MORALITY PLAY (SIX HOURS IN LENGTH)

In tonight’s show, contrary to our better judgement, we bring you an old-fashioned fable of the unendurable man known only as (raises his arm) … who wakes up one morning sick to his stomach; consequently, he vomits, looks in the mirror, and discovers a face as despicable and repellent as a moldy block of cheese, a smooth yet unshaven face which radiates a frightful bitterness—malignant, demoralized, hysterical—with narrow unappealing lips (pale and unkissable); damn I’m ugly, he says. In the classic American tradition of following one’s own drummer, he sets out on a mission to destroy everything around him, starting with what’s inside his apartment: the smashing of each light bulb and spotty window; the throwing of two wind-up alarm clocks, all 24 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica, wooden folding chairs, the framed family portrait, shoes, tomatoes, a honeydew melon, figs, which really opens up a psychic can of worms; the squashing of the goldfish; he lights the cat on fire, kicks the dog to death, shoots his daughter and son, strangles his wife, and heaves their newborn infant against the wall; clutter, he screams, every person takes up so much room; to calm his nerves he masturbates into a shotglass and downs his semen (not as bad as one would think, he thinks); after he disembowels the family one by one, an elaborate procedure well worth the effort, he breaks into an old lady’s apartment, ties her up, defecates, and spoonfeeds her the stools; my body’s liberation, he says, is your midnight snack; he masturbates a second time into the feces-covered face of the woman; laughter overtakes him and during this time he feels better than he’s ever felt before; he wipes the tip of his genitalia with a surprisingly useful doily; I’m finally doing what I want to do and I’m great at it; he is exhilarated, close to tears, suddenly and wildly in love with life; I’m the only person in the world able to do all this, I’m irreplaceable, I am great, I am who everyone wants to be; he falls asleep and dreams he is on a vacation; he steps onto the terrace of a hotel to observe the ocean; he sees a marlin burst out of the water, fly over the sand, and dive into the hotel pool; the ocean is so exciting, he thinks, so big, so majestic; he shakes his head, I like a fish with a dagger on its face; the marlin jumps out of the pool and pierces a bikini-clad gentleman in the stomach; the unfortunate man and fish fall to the ground; he is happy as he watches blood gush out of the man; he wakes up, masturbates a third time, a record for the day, and sets the entire neighborhood on fire with gasoline and matches; the world is passive, he says as smoke rises all around him, I am the active one, the spring rain of contempt, a swift morose icon, my gift is misguided love, I’m the only person who’s truly supposed to be here.