The Name GameMature

My name is Imogene, she says quietly, almost serene
Her head up, back straight, regal like a Queen
Imogene as in Imogene Coca? He asks
No stupid, she frowns, as in Imogene Karkass
She stares, daring him to make fun of the name
His name is worse, so he won't play that game
He just smiles and walks to the back of the stage
To an upright piano, with a finish crinkled with age
He tickles the ivories a bit, and finds to his delight
That the tired old instrument still sounds alright
Imogene follows him, and stands behind his bench
As he plays, she sings a song in passable French
Amazed by her talent, he plays a complicated tune
She sings along slowly, as though she has all afternoon
Finally she asks the questions he wishes to avoid
What's your name? Have you decided if I'm employed?
Yes, you have the job, and don't laugh at my name, it's absurd
What is it then?
She asks. He answers Mortimer Sturd
She puts a hand to her mouth, to stifle a laugh
She doesn't want to lose her job by committing a gaffe
In the silence, a man approaches from stage right
He looks like a brawler who lost his last fight
He had once been handsome, in a rough sort of way
But the lines on his face shows that age holds sway
He joins in harmony, the song that Imogene begins to sing
Mortimer grins happily. Perhaps he can pull off this thing

The End

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