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STAGE LEFT
First we must acknowledge the end to be that which remains after there
is no other thing
left. Secondly, there is an odd knock at the door (as if not by hand but
some untrained
body part). Nobody moves. Release the flies. All the doors open at once
and suddenly
grasphockey is not a real sport. We are appeased at this. A stage
manager shouts, If
the overhead lighting fails, everything should continue. Simultaneous
with the doors
closing, most of our eyes. Partially out of fear. There is only a vague,
theatrical idea, but
it serves to demonstrate the trick. Now, while were still of absent
mind, the nurse
enters. Shes dragging a miniature stethoscope. Keep them eyes
closed, she says in a
somewhat offensive and disingenuous drawl. This sounds patronizing, but
we must do
exactly as she says (shes a real nurse). A ticking emanates
from the stucco. Hours pass.
An orator enters the picture from the right. Its all wrong and he
alludes to as much.
Weve already guessed this instinctively. It either smells of urine
or strongly-alcoholic
cider, one cant say. One can say, The overhead lighting fails.
Everything continues as
planned. The boy in the tight skirt looks around nervously, twisting his
sideburns. The
ticking subsides. Finally he turns to the nurse, I didnt sign
up for this. The others
begin to shrug and mumble, trying to remember if perhaps they did sign
up for this. As
for the boy, this does not betray any measure of brilliance on his part.
Unless of course
he was referring to the skirt. In which case the props are disbanded accordingly.
Just as
all seems determined to collapse into riot, the orator appears once again.
This time from
the left. There will be no intermission. The caterers gawk,
the stethoscope drops, the
overhead lighting shines. This aphorism betrays more than we can muster.
The orator
shifts and delivers his charge once more, There will be no intermission.
Stage managers
everywhere leap. A kneeling understudy raises her hands like a sign reading
the
emphatic turn saves us all. The boy applauds wildly, the nurse cries
out, the others
gasp for air. Perhaps cued by some bristling undercurrent, the flies approach
the
audience. No one pauses to consider if this is brave. As the curtain descends
unnoticed,
they blackly spell out: The End.
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