NO SMOKING a play in one act by David W. Eddy Copyright 1995. NO SMOKING is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. All rights are reserved. E-mail: ltdave@onr.com 6711-A Gold Moss Cove Austin, TX 78745 512.444.8632 The Characters GINGER - Twenty-seven. A beautiful woman who knows it all too well. A non smoker. SID - Twenty-four. A self described tough guy. A smoker. AL - About to turn fifty, and not at all happy about it. From the "old school." A cigar smoker. ART - Twenty-something. A commanding figure with a quiet way about him. A smoker. PAULAA - A soon to be disgruntled postal worker. THE MAN IN DARK - So little is known about him, he can't even describe himself. THE SETTING An upscale urban home. Modern, comfortable, border-line luxury. The door from outside is upstage, slightly right stage of center. Next to the front door is a closet door. A short hallway, stage left, shows three doors: the bedroom, the bathroom, and another closet. the kitchen is up left stage. A chef's dream, this kitchen contains everything imaginable. It is surrounded on the downstage side by a bar with two barstools. Downstage of the kitchen is a dining table with two chairs. All of this resides on a raised level. It is only one step up. Center stage lies a sunken living room. It contains a sofa, chair, coffee table, desk and bookcase. All doors in the house look exactly the same. A fake Picasso painting hangs on the wall. The set should be constructed in a manner which allows the rear cyclorama to create a silhouette of everything downstage. THE TIME Scene One: After-after. Scene Two: Before. Scene Three: After. Scene Four: After-After (again). After- After is now. NO SMOKING SCENE ONE (House lights down. Blackness. Silence. A small orange flicker down right - the flame of a cigarette lighter. The flame goes out. Only the small dot of orange light from the cigarette can be seen. Soft blue lights begin to come up slowly on the cyc, not reaching full until the end of the scene. The glow creates a silhouette of the set. The inside of a small house can be seen, as can a body lying on the floor. THE MAN IN DARK stands down right with the cigarette. Neither his identity or that of the body can be discerned. As lights come up, light pierces through bullet holes in the walls near the front door. THE MAN IN DARK addresses the audience.) THE MAN IN DARK (solemnly, almost in monotone) You have no idea how long I've waited or how much I've gone through to have this cigarette. Those of you who don't smoke should give it a try, just to experience moments like this. (He takes a long drag off the cigarette, exhaling slowly, savoring every second. He livens up a bit.) I know what you're thinking. God forbid I smoke in a public place...introducing second hand smoke into your cozy little environment...increasing your chances of a premature death from lung cancer.... (He takes another drag. He begins to work himself into a rage.) THE MAN IN DARK (cont.) Well, I think there are more important diseases you should be worrying about! Alzheimer's, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, Gingivitis! Or God forbid the silent but deadly Arthritis! (He catches himself loosing control and takes another drag. He becomes solemn again.) Sorry, sorry, I've had a really bad day. (pauses) You know, a day in your life is a lot like a cigarette. You get all worked up expecting it, longing for it, imagining what it will be like. Then you start taken' it in, and sure it's great at first. But sometimes it burns your throat. It eats away at your insides. You know you're one step closer to death. No, that's not what you expect when you light it up, but when does life turn out the way you expect it to? (pauses) Who am I to argue with fate? (He takes one last drag off his cigarette.) To be totally honest with you, though, today would have been fine if I could've just had a cigarette. (He drops the cigarette to the floor and puts it out with his foot. Blackout.) SCENE TWO (Full stage light. No one is on stage. The bullet holes are no longer visible. There is a knock at the front door, followed by silence. Another knock. The door to the bathroom flies open. ART peers out. He is in his twenties. He looks like a very serious, important person. He wears all black, except for a slender white tie tucked under his sport coat. His movements are smooth, but animated. ART steps into the living room, struggling to fold a newspaper back up. He tosses the paper on the sofa. He eyes the door. There is another knock. ART quickly surveys the room, then pulls a shiny, silver semi-automatic pistol from his jacket. He moves to the door, positioning himself so he will be behind it when it opens. The door opens slowly. GINGER enters, cautiously looking around. She is an incredibly gorgeous woman in her late twenties. She wears skin tight black jeans and a short jacket covering as skin tight black shirt.) GINGER (cautiously) Hello? (ART steps up behind her, unseen by her, and places the gun near her head. He stops, looks her over, and lowers his gun. He shuts the door. GINGER spins around at the sudden sound. She sees ART and takes a moment to catch her breath.) You scared the shit out of me! (GINGER looks him over as he puts his gun away.) Are you with the... (GINGER motions around the house. ART nods.) GINGER (cont.) Then we're cool. (He just watches her.) I guess we're a little early. (ART extends a hand.) Oh, right. I'm....uh.... (She shake's ART's hand as she pulls a card out of her pocket. She reads the card and winces. She puts the card back in her pocket.) I'm...uh...Ginger. And you are? (ART motions to the fake Picasso on the wall as he walks into the living room.) You're Picasso? (ART gives her a `you should know better' look.) You're a painter? (ART sits in exasperation.) What? (getting frustrated) Why don't you just tell me? Oh! This is stupid! (ART is getting irritated. He begins to draw his gun. GINGER is frustrated but is too curious to give up.) You're an artist? (ART looks to her quickly.) Art! Your name is Art! (ART holsters his gun as he gives her a thumbs up.) GINGER (cont.) Art! (to herself) Damn I'm good. (GINGER sits next to ART on the sofa. She looks at him for a moment, and bites her lower lip. Her demeanor changes. She looks like a predator that has spotted it's prey.) You're awfully quiet. Don't you like me? (ART looks at her.) (blatantly seductive) You would never have guessed, but I have a thing for the strong, silent type. I like a man who's actions speak louder than his words. (GINGER moves closer and puts a hand on ART's thigh. ART looks down at her hand.) Walk softly, and carry a big stick. (ART removes her hand from his thigh.) Am I coming on too strong? (ART stands and walks a few steps away. GINGER comes up behind him.) Oh Art! I'm just a girl who knows what she wants! Is that so wrong? (softly) I know you find me attractive. I know you want me. (melodramatic) Take me Art! Take me now! (GINGER throws herself on ART, who stumbles backwards. The two stagger into the hallway and into the bathroom. The door shuts. A moment passes. The door swings open. The two emerge tangled in toilet paper. GINGER opens the door to the bedroom and pushes ART in. She lunges in after him and slams the door. A moment of silence. A knock at the front door. The door slowly opens as SID enters. He looks inside, determines no one is there. He enters in a very `cool guy' strut. He closes the door. SID is a young tough guy. His black hair is slicked back. He wears a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve, and a black vest. A revolver is tucked in his belt. SID walks around the room, and ends up in the kitchen. He rummages through the refrigerator for a moment before GINGER emerges from the bedroom. She fixes her hair and straightens her jacket. She sees SID, but he does not see her. GINGER sits on the sofa and picks up the paper.) GINGER (casually) You know it's not polite to dig through someone's fridge ithout asking. (SID stands suddenly and looks at her.) SID This your fridge? GINGER No. SID Then back off, bitch. GINGER Feisty, aren't we? SID Hey, you better watch yourself there, bitch! GINGER Or you'll? What? Learn me a lesson? (SID approaches her.) SID Yeah, I'll learn ya real good, bitch. GINGER Do you have to say the word `bitch' at the end of each sentence? SID Yeah. (thinks) Bitch. GINGER (very polite) I'd rather you didn't use that kind of language. SID Who the hell you think you are? I ain't takin' orders from no bitch!, bitch. (GINGER quickly whips a black Colt 45 from the small of her back and sticks it between SID's legs.) GINGER (bitchy) Listen, this bitch doesn't take that shit from anyone. You start behaving yourself ore we're going to have a problem. You understand? (SID begins to physically break down.) I'm going to put this gun away and we're going to get along just fine. But if you call me bitch one more time, you'll have to borrow your nuts from the squirrels. You follow me? SID (almost in tears) Yes ma'am. (GINGER tucks the gun back in the rear of her jeans. SID backs up slowly and returns to the kitchen. He composes himself before he speaks.) SID (cont.) I take it your with the.... (SID motions around the house.) GINGER Yeah, I'm with the... (GINGER motions around the house just like SID.) You can call me Ginger. SID (confused) Ginger? As in? (SID begins digging through the freezer.) GINGER Ginger. As in Gin-ger. (SID turns away and pulls a small notepad from his pocket. He looks at it, then back at GINGER. He turns back to her.) SID (verifying) Ginger? GINGER (talking to a child) Gin-ger. Ginger. SID I'm...uh...Sid. (GINGER returns to the paper. ART comes out from the bedroom. He looks beaten. SID snaps the revolver from his belt and points it at ART. ART draws his gun, but uses it in a shoo-ing motion to wave SID away. SID's eye is caught by a microwave dinner. ART collapses on the couch next to GINGER. He sets his gun down on the couch and produces a pack of cigarettes. He offers one to GINGER.) GINGER I don't smoke. (ART shrugs and pulls one out for himself. GINGER snaps it out of his mouth and breaks it in half. ART gives up and puts the cigarettes away.) SID Man, that bitch has you trained. GINGER (angry) Sid! SID (meek) Sorry. GINGER (patronizing) Oh, that's okay. You're just a big, dumb animal. I know it takes time for you to master complex tasks like this. (strongly) Just don't let it happen again. (Sid reads the cooking dinner's package.) SID Cook on medium for ten minutes, rotating once. Shit! Ten minutes? (to GINGER) How much time we got? (GINGER looks to ART. ART looks at his watch. GINGER shakes her head.) Okay. Medium for ten? Fuck that...high for five! (GINGER and ART look at SID.) It's the same thing, right? Medium for ten, high for five? Like they expect us to wait ten minutes! (They look at him questioningly.) What the hell? Cooking times may vary? Then how the hell do I... (ART gets up and looks out the front window. GINGER watches him.) GINGER That's a good question, Art. SID He didn't ask no question! GINGER He's wondering where the other guy is. SID No, he just looked out the window. you're putting words in his mouth! GINGER You kinda have to. He doesn't say much. After a while you'll get used to it. SID After a while? You already knew this guy? GINGER (defensive) I hardly know him! Well, I do...we just met...we bonded fast. SID Whatever. (returning to his food) Fuck it. High for five. (SID puts the dinner in and starts the microwave. There is a knock at the door. ART retrieves his gun from the sofa and snaps a finger at SID. They take positions on either side of the door, guns drawn. GINGER lies down casually on the couch.) GINGER You boys play nice. (The door opens wide, crushing ART against the wall. AL enters. He is a big man, about fifty. He wears a dark suit and puffs on a large cigar. GINGER sees him and springs to her feet. She slaps the cigar out of his mouth and stamps it out.) There will be no smoking! (AL advances, SID and ART come up behind him unseen.) AL (cranky) You bitch! SID Watch the language, pal, there's a lady present. (GINGER smiles, ART laughs quietly. AL turns and looks them all over. He is not scared.) AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Are you with the.... (AL motions around the house.) SID and GINGER (for the thousandth time) Yeah, we're with the... (SID, GINGER and ART motion around the house, same as before.) AL (quickly, sharp) Alright. Let me say two things. First, don't think that because of my age you can take advantage of me. You screw up, I'll kill you. Second, we're being paid to do a job. Honestly, I think you're all too young for this. So don't try to be my friend, because I don't want to have anything to do with you. We're going to do our job and go our separate ways. Understood? (SID, ART and GINGER exchange looks. AL's pace slows.) Good. Now who's in charge? SID I am. GINGER Go sit down, squirrel boy, you're not in charge. AL Okay, he's not in charge (pauses) None of you know who's in charge? GINGER I thought the boss was coming. SID Yeah, the boss is coming. AL Then where is he? (They all look at each other.) GINGER Maybe we should wait for him. AL (the final word) We'll wait. (They all go into the living room and sit. ART remains standing. AL picks up the newspaper and begins reading.) SID Hey man, I... AL (interrupting) NO TALKING! I don't want to hear about it. SID I was just going to say that I'm Sid, this is Ginger, and this is...uh.... GINGER Art. That's Art. (ART nods.) AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sid, Ginger, Art, I'm...oh, who the hell am I? (AL pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket and looks at it. He looks up at the other. He crumples the paper and throws it on the floor.) I'm Al. GINGER Nice to meet you, Al. AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. SHUT THE HELL UP! This is business, not group therapy. (SID stares at AL, occasionally glancing down at the crumpled paper on the floor. AL notices him.) What are staring at? SID Are you just going to leave that crumpled piece of paper on the floor? AL Yeah. You have a problem with that? SID (tough) I might. AL (tougher) Then why don't you do something about it? SID I think I will (They start to draw their guns.) GINGER Hold on! There's no need to get excited. Sid, put the gun away. SID Come on! This guy has no respect for the home of his host! GINGER You're one to talk! (motioning towards the kitchen) Mr. High For Five! (SID sits back down. There is an awkward moment. Simultaneously, ART, and SID pull out a cigarette, as AL pulls out a cigar.) GINGER (angry) What have I told you? (She takes up the tobacco.) NO SMOKING! AL Somebody please shoot this bitch. (GINGER pulls her gun on AL. All stand. AL pulls his gun on GINGER. SID pulls his gun on AL. ART pulls his gun on SID.) GINGER Don't call me a bitch. AL Give me back my cigar. SID (not too tough) Can we NOT shoot each other? (GINGER lowers her gun. AL, SID and ART follow in that order. All sit except ART. Silence.) What if the boss doesn't show? GINGER He'll show. SID We're running out of time. Al was late as it was. (pauses) The boss wouldn't be this late. AL The kid's got a point. GINGER Then what do you suggest we do? SID Anybody know how to contact him? (They look at each other silently.) Nobody knows how to contact this guy? AL We're not supposed to know. It's part of the plan. GINGER So what now? AL We go on without him. GINGER We can't go on without him! AL Why not? GINGER It'd be like Simon says without Simon... SID It'd be like football without the quarterback... GINGER ...like Star Trek without Captain Kirk... SID ...like police without a sergeant.... (Everyone looks at SID.) What? It's an analogy! (pause) Okay, not a good one, but effective I think. (They all stare.) What?!? AL What would you know about police? SID (changing the subject) What would you know about trash on the floor? AL WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE POLICE? SID (defensive) What do you mean? GINGER He's asking how you can speak intelligently about the inner workings of the police department, dumbass. SID I....well, uh... AL (angry) Are you a cop? DON'T LIE TO ME BOY! (AL and ART surround SID. The microwave buzzes.) SID Oh, there's my food... AL DAMMIT BOY! Don't change the subject. GINGER I believe in you, Sid. (AL and ART turn to her.) SID You do? GINGER Well, I figure and undercover cop has to be smart. We've already established that you're not too bright. SID Thank you. AL Are you sure about him? GINGER I think we can trust him. AL Alright, but if you're wrong... GINGER Yeah, yeah, yeah.... (All sit. ART looks at his watch.) SID Art's right, we need to get to work. (SID rises and goes to the micro- wave.) AL Where were we? SID Shit! The center's still cold! (SID starts the microwave again.) GINGER You said you wanted to go on without the boss. AL Right...so we're all agreed? SID and GINGER NO! AL What's the problem? GINGER Do you know what we're supposed to do? AL I think it's obvious. GINGER (to SID and ART) He thinks it's obvious. SID (with a sigh) Fuckin' old people... (GINGER begins to pace.) AL Fuck you, kid! SID No, fuck YOU, Grandpa! AL Child! SID Litterbug! AL Chef Boy-I-Suck! SID FUCK YOU! AL FUCK YOU! GINGER You think it's OBVIOUS? True, we all know why we're here. We were gathered for a specific reason. THAT"S OBVIOUS! It's not like we're multi-talented, I mean, we're OBVIOUSLY not social workers! What is NOT obvious is where this is supposed to happen, when this is supposed to happen, or what we're supposed to get! (GINGER sits, out of breath. ART offers her a cigarette, she declines. A moment of silence.) AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. SID She's got a point. Show some respect, grandpa. AL Shut up, you fuckin' kid. (SID pulls his gun on Al. Al pulls his gun on SID. GINGER pulls her gun on AL. ART pulls his gun on GINGER.) GINGER Are we going to go through this every time somebody gets pissed off? SID and AL YES! AL You want to shoot me, kid? GO ON! SHOOT ME! I'm practically dead already! What? Ain't got it in you, boy? SID I'll cap your ass right here. GINGER This macho shit has got to go. (GINGER lowers her gun. ART does the same.) AL Go ahead and shoot! Just keep in mind that I'm gonna make a point to bleed all over you and your little tough guy outfit. (SID looks down at his clothes, and lowers his gun. AL lowers his.) That's what I thought. GINGER Al, act your age. AL He started it. SID Did not. AL Fucking kids. (SID pulls his gun on AL. AL pulls his gun on SID. GINGER pulls her gun on AL. ART pulls his gun and fires a round into the air.) GINGER and AL SID Jesus Christ! Fuckin' eh! (Everyone puts their guns away, except ART, who circles the group. There is a moment of silence.) SID Great. Now there's a hole is the ceiling! Doesn't anyone respect.... AL and GINGER Shut up! SID Hey, no need to gang up. AL Alright, where were we? GINGER Arguing. AL Right. (ART tosses a folded paper onto the table.) SID What's that? (SID picks up the paper and reads it silently.) Well I'll be damned. AL Probably. GINGER What is it? SID Instructions from the boss. (GINGER and AL crowd around and get a look.) AL Where did you get this? (ART motions to the kitchen. GINGER, AL, and SID all read the paper together.) GINGER, SID, AL Oooooooo.....Ahhhhhhh........Ohhhh......... (They finish reading.) AL I told you it was obvious. GINGER It is now. SID Not really... AL So now can we go on without the boss? GINGER Yes. AL You should have listened to me... SID (clueless) So, is the boss not coming? AL What? Do I have to feed you the plan intravenously? THE BOSS ISN'T COMING! SID So we're going on without him? (The microwave buzzes. SID goes to the kitchen.) AL (to GINGER) You're right, he's not smart enough to be a cop. (to himself) Jesus, I've smoked cigars smarter than this guy. SID Fuck! First it's too cold, now it's too hot! GINGER You better be nice, Al. We need Sid to pull this off. AL No, we don't. He serves no purpose what-so-ever. SID I'll just let it sit and cool off. (SID walks back into the living room.) GINGER Sure he does. (GINGER gets that predator look again. She goes to SID.) He's the muscle. AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's just try and get this over with before I die. SID So...the boss isn't coming, right? AL Ginger, please let me kill him. (GINGER takes hold of SID defensively. Her hold slowly turns into a caressing massage.) GINGER No, I've got other plans for him. AL Like what? GINGER Wouldn't you like to know? AL Actually, I would. SID So would I. GINGER Be quiet, Sid. AL Yeah, Sid, do you mind? SID Sorry. GINGER I don't think it's any of your business, Al. AL Anything that affects the outcome of this operation is my business. GINGER What happened to `I don't want to have anything to do with you?' AL I'm making an exception. SID Does this have anything to do with the boss not coming? AL and GINGER No! AL All I'm saying is that if you let me kill him now, this will all go a lot smoother. GINGER And I'm saying no. AL The guy will get us all killed! You need to rethink your decision. (GINGER thinks for a moment.) GINGER (decidedly) No. AL Fine then! Have it your way. But if he stays, I go. GINGER Fine with me. (AL looks for someone to stop him, finds none, and heads for the door.) SID Hey! You forgot to pick up your trash! (AL exits quickly into the closet near the front door. They watch him.) How long do you think he'll stay in there? GINGER The longer the better. (AL comes out of the closet.) AL I've changed my mind. I'm staying... GINGER Damn. AL ...on the condition that you keep boy wonder here out of my way. GINGER No, it's okay. You can go. AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. (pauses, a sly smile) Ginger, you know you want me. GINGER (dryly, with sarcasm) Oh yes, Al, I've waited all my life for you. You're everything I've always wanted in a man: old, overweight, temperamental, arrogant, cigar smelling and most likely impotent. AL (very defensive) I AM NOT OLD! SID I'm a little confused here. AL Why does that not surprise me? GINGER Sid, don't pay any attention to him. AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, if your done turning the boy against me, we have work to do, and we need to get started. SID I think Al has a point. AL Of course I have a point. Unlike you, I'm capable of coherent thought. GINGER Can't you two get along for one minute? SID Sorry, ma'am. (SID bows his head in shame. GINGER strokes his hair.) AL EXCUSE ME! If you two can stop fondling each other, WE NEED TO GET STARTED!!!! GINGER Okay, MR. VOICE-OF-REASON, where do we start? AL Well, the cardinal rule for a job of this nature is to not get caught. Therefore, I suggest we find a way of hiding our identity. SID That makes sense. AL Of course it does. GINGER ALRIGHT! Sid and I will check the bedroom. You and Art look out here. (to SID, softly) You never would have guessed, but I have a thing for the stupid, macho type. (GINGER grabs SID and leads him towards the bedroom.) SID I'm still a little confused about the boss. GINGER Don't worry Sid. I'll be the boss. All you have to do is lie back. (GINGER pushes SID into the bedroom and slams the door. ART and AL stand silently for a moment, then pull out their respective tobacco products. GINGER suddenly emerges and takes up the tobacco. She returns to the bedroom and slams the door.) AL She is such a bitch. GINGER (offstage) I heard that! AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come-on Art, lets look in the kitchen. (AL goes to the kitchen and begins opening cabinets. He ducks down behind the bar and emerges with a pot on his head.) How about this? (ART shakes his head.) Right. Not scary enough. (AL descends again. He emerges momentarily with aluminum foil wrapped around his head. ART shakes his head. AL continues popping up with various items: Saran wrap, a pizza box, sponges and duct tape, etc. Each time, ART shakes his head.) AL (cont.) This is hopeless. I hope Ginger finds something. (GINGER comes out from the bedroom.) Did you find anything back there? GINGER Nothing that satisfied me. (AL looks down.) AL AH HAH! (AL holds up four paper bags.) GINGER We're going to wear paper bags? You can't be serious. AL Have you got a better idea? GINGER Actually, I do. (GINGER crosses to the kitchen. She rummages through a drawer and finds a marker. She goes to work on the bags.) There! Finished. (She hands a bag to AL.) AL No, no, no. GINGER Put it on. (AL puts the bag on. A very grumpy face has been drawn on the front, smoking a cigar.) Very becoming, Al. Put yours on Art. (ART takes his bag and puts it on. His is a distorted smiley face without a mouth.) Oh yes. Very nice. (GINGER puts hers on. It is a very exaggerated female face, winking.) SID Holy shit! (SID stands in the doorway to the bedroom.) Somebody needs to recycle more. AL Shut up and put the bag on. SID (motioning towards the sofa) Pick up your trash! AL Put the bag on. SID I'm not wearing one of those. (AL, GINGER and ART all pull their guns on SID. They are all way off the mark.) AL If I have to wear one, you have to wear one. NOW PUT THE DAMN BAG ON YOUR HEAD! (SID takes his bag and puts it on his head. His is a silly looking boy with a dunce cap.) GINGER I think this works nicely. AL Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's do this before I suffocate. (The four turn and walk towards the door.) SID WAIT! (Everyone stops.) I was cooking! (They push SID towards the door, and continue on their way out. All at once, they all trip on the step and fall to the floor. BLACKOUT.) SCENE THREE (PAULA, a postal worker, sits tied and gagged in a chair in the living room. She wears her postal uniform. Her mail bag sits on the floor, but the mail is strewn about the floor in a trail to the door. No one else is on stage. PAULA is struggling to get free. ART comes out from the bathroom. He carries a newspaper. He looks to PAULA, then returns to the paper. He is disturbed. He tears a section out of the paper, folds it up, and puts it in his jacket pocket. PAULA manages to loosen her gag.) PAULA (scared) Why are you doing this? (ART looks to her.) What do you want with me? (ART just stares.) Did I screw up your mail or something? (ART crosses to the back of PAULA's chair. PAULA panics.) I'M SORRY! It happens!!! (ART places his hands on PAULA's shoulders. PAULA begins struggling violently.) IT'S NOT MY FAULT! (shear panic) I do the best I can! LET ME GO! (ART puts a hand over PAULA's mouth. PAULA continues to panic.) HMMMM!! MMMMMM! HMMMMM!!!!!! (PAULA bites ART's hand. Angry, ART pulls his gun on PAULA. He hesitates, and places the gun on PAULA's lap.) OH GOD! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!! (ART puts the gag back over PAULA's mouth. ART looks PAULA over for a moment, then crosses to the kitchen. PAULA strains to see him. ART returns with a long butcher knife. PAULA panics even more.) PAULA (cont.) HMMMMMM!!! MMMMMMM!!! HMMMMM!! (ART stands over PAULA for a moment, enjoying the terror he is causing. ART leans down and picks up some of the mail. He goes to the sofa, sits, and begins opening mail with the knife. He glances at each one, tossing the opened mail over his shoulder. The front door swings open. SID enters. He is out of breath. In one hand he clutches his gun. In the other, his bag. He shuts the door and looks quickly out the window. SID is soaking wet.) SID (out of breath) Jesus Christ! (SID notices PAULA, goes to her, and looks her over.) A hostage? Art, how thoughtful. (ART continues opening mail. SID surveys the room.) Where's the bitch and the bastard? (ART looks at him questioningly.) Ginger? And Al? (ART motions to the bedroom.) SID (cont.) I need to have a word with them. (SID starts for the bedroom. ART stands up and gets in his way. SID plays tough.) Art, you better get outta my way. Me, the bitch, and that bastard Al need to have a conversation. (ART holds up the knife.) Maybe it can wait. (GINGER enters from the bedroom.) GINGER Sid! Nice of you to join us. (looks him over) Why are you soaking wet? SID (furious) YOU BITCH! Where do get off leaving me there? GINGER Now Sid...temper, temper. SID Don't `now Sid' me, bitch. GINGER (warning) Sid... SID YOU LEFT ME THERE! I had to run back on foot! GINGER You poor thing. SID Damn right, bitch! I'm a smoker! I could've had a heart attack! GINGER Wouldn't that be a shame? SID OH! THAT AIN'T THE HALF OF IT! GINGER What? Find a water hose you couldn't handle, tough guy? SID Shit, I handled it. (PAULA has loosened her gag.) PAULA Is that why you're soaking wet? SID Shut your postal punk ass up! PAULA Hey! I've got a name! SID (sincere) Really? What? PAULA Paula. SID Great. Nice to meet you, Paula. Now shut your postal punk ass up, Paula! GINGER Come on, Sid, tell us that got the best of Mr. Macho! SID I said I handled it! PAULA Then tell us what happened, tough guy. SID I thought I told you to shut the fuck up! GINGER Come on, Sid. SID Alright, alright. GINGER (to ART) This ought to be good. (SID takes a moment to collect himself.) SID Okay. See, I'm runnin', right, and I know the cops are chasin' me. So I cut through this park, and I slow down for a minute...you know...to catch my breath, and have a cigarette. That's when I realize that I left my fucking lighter back at the place! GINGER See what smoking does to you? SID Do you want to hear this? Alright then. So I ask this bald guy in a toga or something for a light...'cause he's smokin' some herbal shit. So he gives me his lighter and he starts talkin all this shit about findin' my true self and `becoming one with nature.' Meanwhile, I'm just tryin' to get my fucking cigarette lit, `cause his lighter was childproof. I couldn't get the damn thing to work! I keep tryin' and he keeps talkin'. I didn't understand a word he was sayin', but he kept talkin'. PAULA I don't understand a word you're saying, but you keep talkin'. SID Excuse me, I'm tellin' a story here. Anyway. He's all tryin' to give me these little books on religion and shit..and I'm just concentrating on that damn childproof lighter. Then I hear all this yelling, so I turn around and see the cops catchin' up on me. So I give that lighter one last try, but I can't get it to work, so I take off runnin'. Then that bald guy starts yelling at me. He's screamin' `cause I got his lighter. So he's chasin' me, and throwing all these little books at me, and behind him are the cops. (SID takes out a cigarette.) Anyway, I keep runnin'. I'm knocking people over and shit, you know, `cause I'm thinking `I can't go to jail, I'm fragile.' Then I cut through this lady's back yard and she's watering her garden. She starts yellin' and screamin' and she sprays me with water hose. So I jump the fence, and there's this big fuckin' dog! It starts barkin' and I'm like `oh shit!' (SID pulls out the childproof lighter and tries to light his cigarette. He can't.) SID (cont.) So I keep runnin'. Now I got the cops, a religious freak in a toga, and a big fuckin' dog all chasin' me. (ART pulls out his lighter and hands it to SID. SID tries to light his cigarette, but GINGER snatches it out of his mouth.) GINGER Continue. SID So anyway, I thought I was dead for sure, but then I cut around this corner, and there was this mailman. So I grabbed him and when the dog came around the corner, I threw the mailman at it, and the dog started attacking him! PAULA You bastard! (ART replaces the gag.) SID So then I took off runnin' again, and I made it back here. GINGER So what happened to the cops and the bald guy? SID Oh them? (pauses) They're out front. GINGER (stunned, angry) OUT FRONT!?! SID Yeah. (GINGER looks outside.) GINGER JESUS CHRIST! SID No, I think he was Muslim or something, maybe Methodist. (ART shakes his head.) GINGER (furious) Al was right! You're going to get us all killed! SID No, it's fine. Right before I came in, I told them we had a hostage and we'd kill him if they tried to get in. GINGER How did you know we had a hostage? SID I didn't. I figured they wouldn't know the difference. GINGER Shit! I should have let Al kill you earlier, because you can bet he will now. He was pissed off already, but now.... SID Pissed at me? What'd I do? (remembers) Oh, that...now that really wasn't my fault. (AL enters from the bedroom. He sees SID and goes into a rage.) AL BOY! I'M GONNA KILL YOU! (AL rushes for SID. As he nears ART, ART grabs the gun from AL's belt. In the same motion, he grabs SID's gun. ART places a gun each in SID and AL's chests.) Maybe it can wait. SID (acting tough) That's right, grandpa, you best back down. AL You fucking kid! You've got a lot of nerve coming back here. SID You had a lot of nerve leavin' me there! AL Oh really? After what you pulled, you're lucky I didn't kill you on the spot. SID Oh yeah? Well here I am, take your best shot, old man! AL (very angry) You're asking for it now, boy! SID Then come on with your bad ass self! GINGER HEY! SID! AL! CUT IT OUT! We've got more important things to do right now than arguing amongst ourselves! AL Oh yeah? SID Like what? GINGER Like find a way out of this mess! AL We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for this fuckin' kid! SID Fuck you! You want to talk about a mess? Look! That trash you threw on the floor! It's still there! How many times have asked you to pick that up? I mean, it's not going to throw itself away, grandpa! AL Dammit, boy! Don't start that trash crap again! GINGER FOCUS, PEOPLE! (AL and SID back off and look to GINGER.) AL Why are you soaking wet? GINGER Don't get him started. Now, we have a situation, and we need to figure a way out. (AL takes out a cigar.) AL I say we all just leave and forget this ever happened. SID That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard. AL That's surprising, coming from you. GINGER Actually, Sid's right. We can't leave. (GINGER takes the cigar away from AL.) AL And why not? (GINGER motions towards the window. AL looks out.) JESUS CHRIST! GINGER No, Sid thinks he's a Methodist or something. AL No, not the bald guy, I'm talking about all the fucking police. (They all take a look out the window.) How the hell did they find us? (Everyone's gaze turns to SID.) What the hell did you do now? (PAULA has worked the gag free.) SID Okay, now that's really not my fault. I only brought the first four...the rest are somebody else's. PAULA Oh, I'm sure all the neighbors have hostages too. SID (furious) For the last time! Shut your proper postage punk ass mailman self up! PAULA Mail person! AL WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? (SID crosses down through the living room.) SID Well, you see, I was runnin', right... PAULA Not again! SID ....and I know the cops are chasin' me... GINGER SID! Don't. (AL crosses to SID.) AL You just can't help but screw things up, can you? As if you hadn't done enough already! SID Wait! That? That wasn't my fault! AL Not your fault? Put the bag on, Sid. SID (hesitantly) Why? AL Just put the fucking bag on! (SID still hesitates. AL goes to ART, grabs his gun, returns to SID, and points the gun at him.) PAULA I'd put the bag on if I were you, tough guy. (SID puts his paper bag on. The front has a large burn hole.) AL Now, you're going to tell me that's not your fault? SID It's not! It's Ginger's fault! (GINGER crosses down to them.) GINGER My fault? SID If you would've let me have a cigarette earlier... GINGER Oh, no! You can't blame this on me! It's not my fault you're an addict! (In spite of her, SID pulls out a cigarette. He starts to light it. GINGER punches SID.) SID (in pain) Ow! What'd you do that for? GINGER No smoking! SID You bitch! (GINGER punches him again.) PAULA Hey tough guy, give up before she kicks your ass! SID (to GINGER) I'm not gonna hit you back...but only because you're a woman. (GINGER punches him again.) SID (cont.) Alright, dammit! I won't hit you back because you'll kick my ass! (collects himself) But it's still your fault. AL What kind of idiot tries to smoke a cigarette with a paper bag on his head? SID Who's idea was it to put paper bags on our heads in the first place? (PAULA begins moving her chair towards the couch. AL, GINGER and SID are in front of her, and do not see this.) AL So now it's my fault? SID The truth is harsh, isn't it grandpa? AL Well no one else seemed to have any trouble doing their jobs with a paper bag on their head! (PAULA has reached the couch. She strains to reach ART's knife.) GINGER Actually, I found it a little hard to see what I was doing. AL Ginger, don't help. SID See, it is your fault. AL IT IS NOT MY FAULT! You set your bag on fire! (PAULA has retrieved the knife.) Everything was going fine until somebody yelled `FIRE!' Then all hell broke loose. That is your fault, not mine! SID Face it, you screwed up, grandpa. AL Will you quit calling me grandpa, you fucking kid! SID Then quit calling me a fucking kid. AL Not a chance in hell. SID Then get used to it, grandpa. (PAULA has cut herself free, and stands up, holding ART's gun. She points it at the group.) PAULA YOU PEOPLE ARE FUCKING CRAZY!!!! SID Ah, shit. AL Who let the mailman loose? PAULA MAILPERSON! Shut up! GINGER This day just gets better and better. AL It was you, wasn't it, Sid? SID Me? AL You let her loose just to piss me off! PAULA I said SHUT UP! AL Jesus, Sid! You are the Energizer bunny of fuck ups! SID I didn't do it! AL You're just trying to get me back for throwing that trash on the floor. PAULA AREN'T YOU PEOPLE LISTENING TO ME?!?! I said shut up! I'VE GOT A GUN! GINGER Big deal, we've all got guns. AL If you think that now I'm gonna pick up that piece of paper just because some lunatic postman has me at gun point...YOU'RE WRONG! PAULA HEY! OLD MAN! Shut up or I'll shoot! AL Two things, little girl...first, don't ever call me old. Second...shoot me if you have to, I'M NOT GOING TO PICK UP THE TRASH! GINGER Al! For Christ's sake! Just pick up the piece of paper! AL It's a matter of principal, Ginger. PAULA WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? GINGER Al threw that scrap of paper on the floor. Sid asked him to pick it up, Al refuses. PAULA (retrieving the paper) This paper? (PAULA uncrumples and reads the paper.) Alzheimer's? Who's got Alzheimer's? AL Nobody's got Alzheimer's! PAULA Then what the hell is so important about this piece of paper? SID That's his name! PAULA Damn, you must of had cruel parents! AL It's not my real name, you dumb broad. It's an alias. We've all got em. PAULA (to SID) What's yours, tough guy? SID I ain't got one. AL He's got one. PAULA Tell me or I'll shoot you. AL Just shoot him. (SID hesitates. PAULA closes her eyes and fires the gun. SID is hit and falls to the floor.) SID SHIT!!!! PAULA SEE? I'm not joking! GINGER Obviously. AL Hey kid, nice shot! (to GINGER) I like this gal. PAULA I'll shoot every one of you! AL I've got a better idea. Just keep shooting Sid. (ART, who was standing at the window, has been slowly making his way to PAULA. He comes up behind him and place's SID's gun to her head.) PAULA Oh shit. (AL takes PAULA's gun. GINGER helps SID to his feet.) SID (hysterical) That bitch shot me! (GINGER examines SID's wound.) GINGER Sid, calm down. It's just a scratch. Just a little nick in the ear. (SID touches his ear and looks at the blood on his fingers.) SID Holy shit, I'm bleeding. (SID faints.) GINGER Some tough guy you are. AL (to PAULA) You know, I've been wanting to shoot him all day long. I'm glad somebody got to. (PAULA sits back down in the chair. ART begins to tie her back up.) Art, wait. Sid just got grazed. Why don't we let our mailman here take another shot? PAULA Mailperson. AL My aplogizies, Paula... GINGER Alzheimer's! AL Don't call me that! GINGER Al! Are you trying to make our hostage into a killer? AL Why not? What's wrong with mailpersons having guns? PAULA YOU PEOPLE ARE SICK! (The phone rings. AL answers it. GINGER is oblivious to it.) GINGER I'm starting to get real tired of you. AL It's for Sid.. PAULA You just wait! You're all gonna pay for this! My people will come for me! (ART takes the phone, listens, and hangs it up.) GINGER Your people? PAULA My posse. Mail carriers stick together. GINGER Oh great. As if the police and the Methodist outside weren't enough. (ART has finished with PAULA and goes to check on SID.) Do you think he'll be okay? (ART gives GINGER a thumbs up.) AL I'm telling ya, let the mailperson have another shot. GINGER Why don't you back off? You have done nothing but fight and argue since you got here! AL And this is a problem? GINGER (becoming angry) Yeah, it is. You see, Al, Sid is not the problem. I don't think you really have a problem with him. You're problem is that you're too old to be of any use and you can't accept that! You're just taking it out on Sid because he's young. AL I'm taking it out on Sid because he's a fucking idiot. GINGER You're the fucking idiot, Al. You're way past your prime! AL (upset) Past my prime? I'll show you my prime! (AL grabs GINGER by the arm and starts for the bedroom.) GINGER Oh, don't bother. (GINGER pulls free.) I've already seen your prime, and it's nothing to write home about! AL You bitch! (GINGER pulls her gun on AL. AL pulls his gun on GINGER.) GINGER What do ya think Al? Can you shoot me before I shoot you? Maybe you should give your gun to the mailperson and let her have a shot! (SID is waking up.) SID (half alert) ...shit... (GINGER lowers her gun. AL lowers his. ART helps SID to his feet and gives him his gun back.) SID (cont.) I can't believe that little bitch shot me! AL Get over it, boy. (The phone rings. Everyone stops and stares at the phone. They exchange looks. ART goes to the phone. He picks it up and listens intently. He does not speak.) GINGER Who is it? SID Is it the boss? AL Dammit, Sid! The boss ain't coming! SID Now wait a minute. The boss said in his letter that he would come after the job to tie things up. AL But you screwed it up! SID I'm surprised you remember that, ALZHEIMERS! AL Don't call me that! GINGER But he doesn't know that! Sid's right! The boss should be coming! AL And what the hell happens when he pulls up and sees the entire fucking police force outside? SID Then we've got to find a way to meet with him. (ART's attention has turned from the phone to the conversation. He hangs up the phone and walks over to the group. He takes the folded piece of newspaper out of his pocket and hands it to GINGER.) GINGER (reading) Art, what is this? I don't see...oh my God....OH.....MY.....GOD! SID What? GINGER The boss..... AL Yes... GINGER The boss..... SID Yes.... GINGER He's.... PAULA JUST GET TO THE FUCKING POINT! GINGER The boss is dead. (Silence. Everyone exchanges looks.) AL Let me see that. (AL takes the paper and reads.) `prominent business man...yeah, yeah, yeah....suspected crime boss....yeah, yeah, yeah....found dead in home late Tuesday night....died of.....smoking related impairments?!?' They print any kind of shit in this paper. (GINGER takes the paper back.) GINGER He didn't die of smoking, you moron. He died from related illnesses. SID What does that mean? GINGER You know, like emphysema, lung cancer, heart attack... AL But they don't say he had a heart attack! They say he died from `smoking related impairments!' GINGER Well they can't just take one look at the guy and tell why he died! Jesus Christ, Al, they have to cut him up and shit....that takes a while. SID So I guess the boss isn't coming. (Silence. Everyone stares at the floor for a moment.) GINGER I think I need to be alone for a few minutes. AL Oh, sure, we'll all just pop outside for a cigarette! GINGER Al, I'm serious! We've suffered a loss today, and I need time to deal with my grief. (GINGER heads for the bedroom.) SID (concerned) She's takin' it pretty hard. (SID, AL and ART prepare to smoke. GINGER comes out of the bedroom, takes up the tobacco, grabs PAULA's chair and drags her into the bedroom.) GINGER You never would have guessed, Paula, but I have a thing for hostages in uniform. (She slams the door.) SID Oh, yeah, she's real upset. AL Hell, she probably fucked the boss. Maybe he did die of a heart attack. SID No, I don't think Ginger is one to sleep around. (AL and ART look to SID in shock.) AL Where the hell have you been? Jesus, Sid! What do you think she's doing in there with the mailperson? Buying stamps? SID What are you trying to say, Al? AL She's a whore! SID I'm not following you. AL Sid, where was I when you got back from the job? SID You were in the bedroom with Ginger. AL Do you see the connection here? SID I don't think one thing has anything to do with the other. AL Look boy, I don't know what's going through that head of yours. Do you think she loves you? Is this the start of a beautiful relationship? Will you two live happily ever after? SID Maybe. AL WAKE THE FUCK UP! Ginger is a slut. A whore. A nympho...whatever you want to call it! The point is, she slept with you, she slept with me, and now she's in there fucking our hostage! God only knows who else she's fucked! (ART raises a hand.) AL (cont.) See? There you go! She fucked Art too! SID I think I see what you're saying. AL It's about fucking time. (The phone rings again. ART goes and picks it up. He listens again, but does not speak. GINGER emerges from the bedroom. Her hair is a mess. She carries her jacket, and drags PAULA, still tied in the chair. She seems exhausted. GINGER goes to ART, takes the phone from him, and hangs it up.) GINGER Can I borrow a cigarette? AL Whoa! Time out! You don't smoke. (ART hands her a pack of cigarettes and lighter. GINGER lights her cigarette, gives one to PAULA, lights it, and returns the cigarettes and lighter to ART.) GINGER I only smoke after sex. SID Hold on. You only smoke after sex? Well, as my good friend Al just pointed out, you have fucked at least four different guys today, and this is the only time you've had a cigarette. GINGER Oh, sorry, I only smoke after good sex. (They all give GINGER a confused look. ART begins to look angry.) SID So you're saying I wasn't any good? GINGER Well, good is a relative term. I'm sure some women might think you're good (thinks) but I doubt it. AL Hold on.... SID You bitch. AL (confident) Surely, I was good. GINGER Calling you impotent was putting it mildly, old man. (ART is becoming more angry. He begins pacing.) AL (to SID) She is a bitch. SID That's what I've been tellin' ya all day. She's a bitch! GINGER (angry) STOP CALLING ME A BITCH! Who the hell do you think you are? SID I'm not a slut, if that's what you mean. GINGER NO! No! (trying to restrain herself) Look, I've been very good to all of you all day. I have gone out of my way to make things work. Sid, I protected you from Al when he wanted to kill you! You'd be dead if it weren't for me! Everytime you say something really fucking stupid, which is everytime you say anything, I back you up! When you set yourself on fire...who was the first one to throw water on you? Huh? Big Mr. tough guy! Can't take a hit from a girl! Faint's at the sight of blood! You need a new career choice! PAULA Sorry tough guy, I'm with her on this one. AL Like you didn't think he was an idiot... GINGER And you! Al! I've put up with all your arguing, your fighting, your whining and complaining! Talk about idiots! You're the one who suggested we wear paper bags over our heads! What the hell? What kind of a moron suggests blinding yourself then firing handguns? (losing control) You come in here and push us around, treat us like dirt...call us children! Why? Because you're over the hill! I'm talking WAY over! You're over the hill and cross the country side! AL Stop right there... GINGER The point is...I have been there for each of you all day! So I take a little time out for some fun? Did you complain? Hell no! It was probably the best sex you'll ever have! So stop bitching! I'm sick of it! AL Hey! Show some respect for your elders! GINGER Al, you said you didn't want to have anything to do with us...so why the hell are you always sticking your nose in our business? Why don't you just fucking leave if you hate us so much? (GINGER stops. There is an awkward silence. AL looks around at each of them. He turns to ART, and hands him the gun he took from PAULA. AL looks at everyone again, then quickly turns and walks into the closet.) PAULA Does he realize that's the closet? GINGER Yeah, he's done this before. PAULA I guess some people never learn. AL (offstage) SHIT! (AL comes out of the closet, looks everyone over again, and heads for the front door.) SID (to ART) Are you just going to let him leave? They'll kill him! (ART stops pacing, and looks at SID. ART draws his gun and heads for the door. AL exits. ART catches the door before it closes, and fires three shots quickly outside. ART closes the door and returns to the living room. SID rushes to the window and looks out. He turns back to the group in shock.) What the hell did you do that for? GINGER and PAULA (confused) What? SID HE SHOT AL! GINGER and PAULA (shocked) WHAT? SID Right in the back! (The phone rings. ART goes to the phone and answers it. He does not speak.) GINGER Jesus Christ. SID (looking out the window) That bald Methodist is freaking out! PAULA Hey, tough guy! Any postal workers out there yet? (SID looks back out the window. ART hangs up the phone. A few moments of silence. He glares at SID.) ART (calm, controlled) Sudden...Infant...Death...syndrome. (SID and GINGER turn quickly and look at ART, who approaches them.) That's what your name was supposed to be. SID How did you... PAULA Talk about cruel parents! GINGER I thought you couldn't speak? ART No, I just restrain myself. People who talk all the time sound like idiots. (ART glares at SID again.) I listen. I listened to every word said. The fights, the name calling, the lies. It was all quite interesting, actually. SID How did you... ART Know your name? I know everything. For example, I know that today could have gone a lot smoother. Wouldn't you agree? Gingivitis? (GINGER glares at ART. SID looks at GINGER.) But that's all in the past now. Alzheimer's...excuse me, Al... is dead. You're surprised, Sid, that I killed him? Why? Do you think I'm going to let someone go out there and risk exposing us all? My job is to make sure everything goes according plan. Until now, things haven't worked out in my favor. Mostly because of you, Sid. SID Me? PAULA (sarcastic) Now that's a surprise. ART Yes, Sid, you. And I can't quite figure that out. You see, I knew who you were before this whole thing even got started. The boss told me. But I wasn't prepared for the thought that you might be an undercover cop. SID Now wait a minute.... ART No, Sid, hear me out. See, Al brought up the idea, and it stuck in my head after that. Your long run back here....that story never seemed plausible to me. For some reason I have this image of you, chatting with your police buddies, saying `oh yeah, I know where they're at, follow me!' PAULA I don't think he's smart enough to be a cop. SID That's crazy! ART Is it? Well, there is one other thing. I've answered the phone three times today. Each time it was the police outside. This, I expected. What I didn't expect was that they would ask for you by name. Now, if `Sid' was just a clever nickname you came up with when you got here...how would they know to ask for Sid unless you told them? (SID draws his gun on ART. ART does not draw his.) SID You are a twisted son of a bitch, Art! And you, Ginger, you're just a bitch! Art, I'm going to have to ask you for that gun. I've already been shot once today. (He takes the gun from ART. SID starts to back up, for the door, but stops.) Art, one question. What was your name supposed to be? ART I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. SID (tucking ART's gun in his belt.) Well, we know that ain't going to happen. (SID turns and heads for the door. ART has been loosening his tie, and comes up behind SID. ART throws his tie around SID's neck and strangles him. As SID struggles to get free, the two continue moving towards the door. SID finally dies. ART opens the door and pushes him out. He stands for a moment, watching the police. He leans down and retrieves his gun from SID's belt. ART comes back inside and closes the door as a barrage of gun fire tears holes in the walls around the door. ART replaces PAULA's gag and turns him facing upstage.) ART (slowly, calm) Well, Ginger, it's just you and me. GINGER I suppose you're going to kill me now, too. ART Do you want an honest answer? Or should I lie to you? GINGER Honest. (ART walks up to her. He stands only inches away from her. He tosses his gun on the couch. One hand runs through her hair as the other wraps around her waist.) ART I'll be honest, then. (ART reaches around to the small of her back.) You should have smoked after we had sex. (GINGER looks a him perplexingly. ART pulls GINGER's gun from the small of her back and shoots her in the chest. GINGER falls to the floor, in the same spot as the body in SCENE ONE. ART tosses her gun down, and retrieves his, placing it in it's holster. He looks around for a moment, then begins to walk downstage. Lights begin to slowly fade down as ART nears the position occupied previously by THE MAN IN DARK. STAGE LIGHTS DOWN, blue lights on cyc at full.) SCENE FOUR (Silence. A small orange flicker down right - the flame of a cigarette lighter. The flame goes out. Only the small dot of orange light from the cigarette can be seen. A silhouette of the set. The body of GINGER can be seen on the floor, As can ART standing downstage. He smokes his cigarette. The blue cyc is slowly fading out, and will be black by the end of the scene.) ART (solemnly, almost in monotone) I've waited a long time and gone through a lot to have this cigarette. Those of you who don't smoke should give it a try, just to experience moments like this. (He takes a long drag.) I know what you're thinking...God forbid I smoke in a public place, increasing your chances of a premature death from lung cancer... (Another drag) Well, I think there are more important diseases you should be worrying about! Alzheimer's, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, Gingivitis! (laughing to himself) Or God forbid the silent but deadly Arthritis! (Another drag) ART (cont.) You know, a day in someone's life is a lot like a cigarette. They get all worked up, expecting it, longing for it, wondering what it will be like. Then they light it up, and from the first moment, everything is downhill. From the moment that cigarette is lit, it's working towards burning out. They don't now it, but it's eating away at their insides....filling their lungs with smoke. They just smile, and enjoy it. Then I come along, and stamp it out. `No smoking,' I tell them. (ART drops the cigarette to the floor and stamps it out with his foot. He stands for a moment, then exits offstage. Blackout. PAULA has worked her gag free.) PAULA Hey! What about me? I'VE GOT MAIL TO DELIVER! (The blue lights come up slightly, again creating a silhouette. ART enters, grabs PAULA's chair, and drags her into the bedroom.) (BLACKOUT.) THE END