SNL Transcripts: Christopher Walken: 04/08/00: The Angel of Death



 Saturday Night Live Transcripts


  Season 25: Episode 16






99p: Christopher Walken / Christina Aguilera

The Angel of Death

Diane…..Ana Gasteyer
Doctor…..Rachel Dratch
Glen…..Chris Parnell
Angel…..Christopher Walken
Granny Fran…..Cheri Oteri

[Open on establishing shot of Mercy General Hospital. Fade in on hospital room where Diane is in bed coughing as the doctor checks her heartbeat and breathing with a stethoscope and Diane’s husband, Glen, stands by the bed, worried for Diane’s life]

Diane: [breathing heavily] Glen? Glen, where are you? Glen?

Glen: [to Doctor] I-I don’t think she can make it through another night of this, Doctor. Why isn’t she getting better?

Doctor: Mr. Connors, your wife has a rare virus. We’ve done all we can to make her more comfortable. We’re just going to have to wait and see. I’m sorry.

[Doctor leaves the room]

[Diane moans, tossing and turning in bed]

Glen: I’m right here, Diane. Don’t you let go honey.

Diane: [delirious with illness] Granny Fran? Granny Fran, is that you? Granny Fran? Oh, God! God, help me!

[a heavenly chorus sings as a bright light shines on Diane. Diane sits up]

Diane: [cheerfully] It’s so bright! The room!

Glen: [unaware of what Diane is experiencing] Diane, what is it? What’s the matter, sweetheart?

[As Diane gasps and breathes heavily, a black-haired angel dressed in a black trenchcoat with matching slacks, wings, and Converse sneakers appears in front of Diane]

Diane: [horrified at the sight of the angel] Oh, God, NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Glen: [running out of the hospital room] Doctor! Doctor!

[Diane whimpers as the angel approaches her]

Angel: Be not afraid…Diane. [Diane continues whimpering in fear]: I’m an angel…sent from Heaven above to heal you. [Diane still whimpers as the angel extends his hand to her]: Give me your hand.

Diane: [scared] I’m not gonna touch you! You’re the Angel of Death! I didn’t ask for the Angel of Death!

Angel: Nay, my child. I’m not…a servant of Death. I’ve been sent from Heaven above to comfort you.

Diane: [wailing and pointing] Ahh, Lucifer!

Angel: [insulted] That’s so unfair. I mean, that’s—that’s just…mean. You don’t know me at all and you just called me a very hurtful name.

Diane: [crying] I’m not ready to die!

Angel: What did I just say a second ago? I’m a messenger from Heaven above. Death is not my boss.

Diane: [voice cracks with fear] You’re scaring me!

Angel: [extends his hand out again] Take my hand.

Diane: No!

Angel: [insistent] Take it!

Diane: [cringes away from the Angel] I’m not gonna take it!

Angel: [threatening] Diane, you gimme your freakin’ hand right now…or I’ll shove it up your wazoo. [calms down] Sorry, I’m feeling a little defensive here.

Diane: Well, I—Well, I’m sorry, too. I prayed for an angel and I get somebody from a Wes Craven movie.

Angel: I feel labeled. How ‘bout…you skip the judgments based on my appearance and I can let you live another fifty years?

Diane: You know, I was scared, but now I’m pissed. I’m not making a judgment; it’s a fact. You’re creepy.

Angel: Please tell me, Diane…how I can modify my creepiness to meet your needs.

Diane: I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it.

Angel: Is it about my outfit? I feel comfortable in black. It’s slimming…and when I was on Earth, I owned a gallery.

Diane: Yeah, well, it’s off-putting. I mean, black wings?

Angel: I’m funky. I’ve always been funky. You’re lucky I gave up the driving gloves.

Diane: [angered] All right! You know what? You can go straight back to Hell!

Angel: You know what? You know what you’re doing, Diane? It’s the angel equivalent to police profiling.

Diane: All right, you know what? You have to admit; you’re a tad—you’re a tad Luciferish.

Angel: [annoyed] You think Lucifer would stand here and have a debate with you about stereotyping? What are you, high? Lucifer…would have stuck…three fingers up your ass and pulled you into Hell!

[Diane is shocked by the Angel’s morbid description]

Diane: You know, if you are one of God’s soldiers, you got a really foul mouth.

Angel: I can’t win…coming or going. How ‘bout I get on the horn to CBS…maybe get Della Reese down here. Maybe you’d feel comfortable touching a big mama type!

Diane: [bitterly] Why don’t I just add “sarcasm” to your list of angelic qualities?

Angel: I’ll tell you what, Diane. If I was…The Prince of Darkness come to getcha, I certainly wouldn’t look like this! I’d come to you dressed as your old…dear old, I don’t know…Fran…Granny Fran. Only when you got close to her, her breath would smell like a bathing cap full of cat crap…and she’d sneeze out maggots!

Diane: [disgusted] You are officially gross!

Angel: I guarantee you. I’m here to save your life, darling.

[An elderly woman with thick glasses, a blue sweater, a floral skirt, and tan orthopedic shoes appears at the doorway and shuffles towards Diane’s bed]

Granny Fran: [in a calming voice] My favorite granddaughter. I am your gaurdian angel.

[Diane sighs with relief]

Angel: Well, this…is a rather obvious little coincidence.

Granny Fran: Give me your hand, my dear…and you will live a long, long life.

Diane: Oh, Granny Fran!

Angel: Have I been talking out my butt, Diane?

[Granny Fran comes closer to Diane as Diane reaches out to touch her]

Diane: [holds Granny Fran’s outstretched hand] Granny Fran, I’ve been so afraid! [sniffs, shocked] What’s that smell?

[Diane drops dead in her hospital bed as the heart monitor flatlines. The Angel snorts knowingly as Granny Fran cackles evilly, backs out of the room, and disappears in the mist. A low heavenly choir plays briefly as Glen returns to Diane’s hospital room with the doctor to find his wife dead]

Glen: Diane! No! No! No! [buries his face at the foot of Diane’s bed, weeping over her death. Heavenly music begins to play. Walken breaks character and addresses the audience]

Christopher Walken: To all of youse out there…who believe that angels should…look and behave a certain way: Eat my shorts!

[Heavenly chorus singing swells as Walken (who has been in a harness since the first time he was shown in this sketch) “flies” away and hangs above the hospital bed, with only the bottom of his coat, his pants, and his sneakers visible. The studio audience cheers as Walken hangs there before delivering his final line]

Christopher Walken: Who do I have to blow to get a break around here?

[fade to black]

Submitted by: Candy Young

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