A lovely, Dickensian Victorian Lady and Gentleman are taking a sleigh ride through the white and drifted snow to Grandmother's house in a one horse open sleigh. At least, that's what the Gentleman believes is happening. The Lady is not so sure. She's been wondering if they're ever going to get there, or if they're trapped on this sleigh ride forever, and why does it only seem to snow when there's an earthquake? Dashing through the possibly imaginary snow (and is the horse really moving, or is it frozen? and why aren't we cold?) to a possibly imaginary destination, she's got him questioning the nature of their reality until he's nearly out of his mind. Funny, surreal, and eerie. A bit of holiday nightmare.
Published in Machiavelli & Other Plays.