ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 42
then to check the pocket. Best to pay attention to the play.
"You will not marry my daughter, Bart!" Father stands his ground.
Mother suddenly goes into labor.
"
Then your second child will be delivered in the gutter!" Bart takes the
two by the backs of their necks and leads them out.
The contractions are getting closer. Bart is truly slime.
"Wait!" calls Lisa. My moment at last. All atteniton is turned to us.
In another fit of crazed script changing, she holds my hands tighter and leads
me across stage to Bar-I am in actor's hell.
"I love Freddy," she says.
Please let me go.
"I have always loved him but have not had the strength to admit it. Now
I must suffer for this fear because I must marry you instead of Freddy."
Well said. Now let me go.
"No!" shouts Father.
"There is no choice!" she insists and turns to "The Slime."
"i will marry you, Bart. I will marry you!" She lets go of my hands
and, sobbing dramatically, buries her face in her own.
But it's too late. That is my cue. Time to present either an
incriminating comb or a bunch of poorly improvised lines.
"Wait!" I say. It's a miracle the line came out. All I need now is one
more miracle. Freddy reaches into his left pocket.
The comb isn't there.
The concrete steps below me are getting colder. The children in the
audience who stayed to play in the park have been gone for over an hour
leaving me alone with the sky and the cold steps.
I look into the sky. The moon is still laughing at me.
I didn't realize it had been in the audience. I suppose this means
everyone else in the audience is still laughing at me too.
"Hey, darling," a giggling husband is saying to his wife, "have you seen
my comb? I thought it was in my pocket!" He laughs hysterically.
"Excuse me for a moment, dear," the wife says, mocking me, "I need
to check something outside ...l'm back, dear, and I found your comb!" Such
cruelty.
It didn't take long to cover up for the missing comb. I simply announced
that I had evidence proving Bart had broken into the bank and copied the
Peterson's account number onto his comb, but that I lost the comb. Lisa, in
her quest to better the play, decided that that wouldn't do. She went outside
and miraculously found it in the bushes. What great luck! I could have killed
her.
28