Monday, March 11, 2013



                                        DEE
                             (singing, very depressed)
                         "Isn't it warm, isn't it rosy..."
     
                                       AKRIL
                             (cheerfully)
                         "Side by side, by side."
                         Ports in a storm--"
     
                                        DEE
                         SHUT UP!
     
     Biff runs in from the kitchen, sweat rolls down his face, leaving 
     brownish streaks on his pale white skin. He searches his briefcase, 
     reacts to finding his implements gone. Now, he catches his image in the 
     mirror by the door. His make up is coming off. Thinking fast, he 
     removes his eyebrows and blonde wig, revealing jet black hair beneath. 
     He is about to shove his wig under the sofa cushion when he spots the 
     blade left there by Fred. Tossing the wig on the floor beside the sofa, 
     he grabs the blade, the Yankee's cap and the fire extinquisher and is 
     headed for the bathroom when he hears Dot and BHRUNDI, a middle-aged 
     man who would stand five feet in heels, coming through the kitchen. He 
     glues himself to the wall until they pass, then slips into the 
     bathroom.
     
                                        DOT
                         I think we gave them the slip.
     
     Bhrundi carries a grocery bag. Dot appears to be holding her hand over 
     a wound in his abdomen.
     
 DOT
                         Heavens, Ferdie. It's no use.
     
     Dot removes her hand. Tomato juice pours out a hole in the grocery bag.
     
                                        DOT
                         Well, you lost your juice, but
                         we still have the vodka.
     
     Dot pulls a bottle of vodka from Bhrundi's bag.
     
                                        DOT
                         I'd rather loose the Bloody
                         than the Mary, any day.
     
                                        DOT
                         You'd better have the first draw.
                         Calm your poor nerves.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Thank you, Dot.
     
     They sit on the sofa. Dot finds the chalice beneath the pillow and 
     pours herself a vodka martini.
     
                                        DOT
                         Who do you think was shooting
                         at you?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         I have many enemies, Dot.
     
                                        DOT
                         I don't see how. You're just sweet 
                         as yams.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         I am sweet as yams, Dot, yes.
     
                                        DOT
                         The way they talk about you in
                         the newspapers! And here you are,
                         just a little spit of a thing.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Yes, Dot. But you see,
                         this is not good for a dictator
                         of an unstable government to be
                         a yam. Yams are not feared.
                         So I hired an American 
                         propaganda agency.
     
   DOT
                         You mean like a publicist?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         A publicist, yes.
     
                                        DOT
                         Then you didn't kill all
                         those peasents?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Propaganda.
     
                                        DOT
                         And you didn't cut off your son's finger?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         My son is five foot nine! I am scared 
                         to death of him.
     
                                        DOT
                         Of course you are. 
                             (she puts down the chalice)
                         So you really don't have a gal, Ferdie?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         No. Gals are too afraid to get
                         near me.
     
                                        DOT
                         Cowards.
     
     Dot kisses Bhrundi. Bhrudi kisses Dot, leaning her back, running his 
     fingers through her hair. Dot's wig falls off onto the floor by the 
     sofa. Bhrundi is too impassioned to notice. Dot, however, realizes, and 
     gropes around on the floor while maintaining their embrace.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         The fire still burns inside you, Dot.
     
                                        DOT
                             (preoccupied)
                         Does it? Oh, good.
     
     She, of course, finds Biff's wig instead of her own and quickly puts it 
     on without Bhrundi noticing.
     
                                        DOT
                         There.
     
     Dot can now afford to release the embrace. Bhrundi looks into her eyes.
     
 BHRUNDI
                         Dot... Dot...
                             (he suddenly looks perplexed)
                         Dot, you look different somehow.
     
                                        DOT
                         That's what love can do to you.
     
     They kiss again. Art enters through the kitchen.
     
                                        ART
                         Mother!
     
     Art tears Bhrundi away from his mother and slugs him. 
     
                                        DOT
                         Art! Why'd you hit Ferdie?
     
                                        ART
                         I thought he was raping you.
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, you're such a pessimist.
                         Now apologize to Mr. Bhrundi.
     
                                        ART
                         What's with your hair?
     
                                        DOT
                         That's not an apology!
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         You are Dot's son, Art?
     
                                        DOT
                         Yes.
     
                                        ART
                         No.
     
                                        DOT
                         No. That's right, he's not. He's...
                         Where's my purse?
     
     Dot's purse is no where to be seen. Sid enters through the front door.
     
                                        SID
                         Did you find Shingles?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Sid?
     
     SID
                         Ferdinand?
     
     They give quick, ceremonial bows to each other.
     
                                        ART
                         You know each other?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         This is my publicist.
     
                                        SID
                         The brain massuer said you had moved.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         The brain massuer?
     
     Fred enters with Meg through the front door.
     
                                       FRED
                         Bhrundi!
     
                                        SID
                         Him.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         That is no brain massuer, that is
                         my super.
     
                                        SID
                         He said he lived in the penthouse.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         I live in the penthouse.
     
                                        SID
                         Oh. Sorry about the rug.
     
                                       FRED
                         Please, Mr. Bhrundi. Have mercy, 
                         don't cut off my fingers.
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, Freddie, that's all prop--
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                             (fiery)
                         Filthy peasent! Keep your fingers! 
                         But don't expect a tip at Christmas.
     
     Bhrundi looks to Sid who nods approvingly. Bhrundi gives Dot a wink. 
     She nods, understanding.
     
          MEG
                         Where's Mr. Shingles?
     
                                        SID
                         I ran into some F.B.I. dimwit.
                         He said they found the real Biff
                         Shingles tied and gagged in his hotel room.
     
                                        ART
                         You mean our guy is the assassin?
     
                                        SID
                         We should have known. His judgement was far
                         too keen to be N.E.A.
     
     We hear the rush of carbon dioxide from a fire extinquisher. Biff 
     enters from the bathroom, whistling "Chattanooga Choo-Choo", wearing 
     the baseball cap and spraying foam from the fire extinquisher. With his 
     make-up removed, his skin is now light brown.
     
                                        SID
                         Who the hell are you?
     
                                       BIFF
                             (Mid-Eastern accent)
                         I am the exterminator.
     
                                        ART
                             (no accent)
                         Wait a second. I know a scam when
                         I see one. Especially a scam
                         I just used.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Very well, L'Atexio dog!
     
     Biff tosses the fire-extinquisher aside and pulls the knife which was 
     slipped down the back of his pants. Several people gasp.
     
                                        SID
                         Holy Shiite!
     
     Biff points at Dot, threateningly.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Give me your sacremental chalice!
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, I lost that fifty years ago.
     
                                       BIFF
                         I mean the cup!
     
     Biff yanks the chalice from her hand.
     
            SID
                         What do you want?
     
                                       BIFF
                         I want his bowels.
     
                                        SID
                         Oh. Then I'll just be going.
     
     Biff cuts Sid off from the door.
     
                                       BIFF
                         I want your bowels, too.
     
                                        DOT
                         What's he want bowels for?
     
                                       BIFF
                         I am taking them back to Pepsmir. 
                         There, I will hang them from the
                         Whining Wall in the Sacred Square on 
                         the Holy Hill.
     
                                        DOT
                         Are you another artist?
     
                                       BIFF
                         Silence, wig-ged hag!
     
     Dot straightens her wig, self-consciously.
     
                                        SID
                         Some professional advice? A second
                         set of bowels just muddles
                         your statement. Less is more!
     
                                       BIFF
                             (to Sid)
                         You, I will kill first!
     
                                        SID
                             (cringing away)
                         No, wait! Force me to watch my 
                         friend die before me. I insist!
     
     Art rushes Biff, who pushes Sid aside and drives Art back with a swipe 
     of his blade.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Stop!
     
     Veronique rushes in, clashing daggers with Biff and driving him away 
     from Art.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         This man is an imposter!
     
         BIFF
                         They know that.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         This man.
     
     Veronique yanks off Art's beard, and tosses it away (on top of the 
     canvas.)
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                             (continued)
                         He is not Akril L'Atexio.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Why would I believe you?
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         I came here on the same sacred misssion.
     
                                        ART
                         Vera?
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         I wanted his bowels.
     
                                        DOT
                         They're really in a rut with this.
     
                                        ART
                         But you're an art dealer.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         No. I am the heiress to a French
                         newspaper fortune.
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, like Patty Duke.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         I became obsessed with the idea
                         of being an art dealer so I could
                         meet L'Atexio.
     
                                       BIFF
                         You are not a Baba Shiite.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         I am. Converted.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Since when?
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Since Easter.
     
                                        ART
                         Wow. You are impulsive.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         And obsessive. As are you, mon cheri.
                             (referring to Art)
                         This man has the heart of an artist.
                         The daring, the wrecklessness...
                         But he is not L'Atexio.
                         Like me, he is a lost child, seeking some 
                         identity that will make 
                         the world love him...
                         I cannot hurt you, Arthur.
                                         
     Veronique tosses her blade to the coffee table. Everyone breathes a 
     sigh of relief until they realize the blade is now up for grabs. Biff 
     gets to it first, and is now a double-bladed menace.
     
                                       FRED
                         Wait, please, she was telling the truth.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Bah!
     
                                        MEG
                         This is my brother, Art Angeley.
                         He's not an artist, he's nothing.
      
                                        ART
                         Look! I can't even paint.
     
     Art takes a tube of paint, a splatters a pattern of pink glops across 
     his canvas, then displays it to Biff. 
     
                                        MEG
                         Art? You did that?
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         My God.
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, it's pretty.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         So much passion.
     
                                        MEG
                         Such intensity.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Such urgency.
     
                                        ART
                         It is... strangely affecting.
                             (Art smiles, looks at Biff)
                         What am I saying?
     
                                       BIFF
                         Get on your hands and knees!
     
                                        ART
                         Wait! This is my mother.
                         Mom, tell him some intimate details
                         about my childhood that only a
                         mother could know.
             
                                        DOT
                         I can't help you, honey. I don't
                         have my purse.
     
                                        ART
                         Tell them about my birth mark.
     
                                        DOT
                         You don't have a birthmark.
     
                                        ART
                         Yes, I do!
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh! He has two moles on his left breast.
     
                                        ART
                         No, that's Meg!
     
     Meg flushes, crosses her arms over her chest.
     
                                        ART
                         I have Woody the Woodpecker...
     
                                        DOT
                         You have Woody the Woodpecker!
     
                                        ART
                             (coaxing her)
                         On...?
     
                                        DOT
                         On... T.V.?
     
                                        ART
                         On my shoulder!
     
                                       BIFF
                         The pathetic thrashings of a
                         dying man!
     
                                        ART
                         No! Mom, listen! Am I an artist?
     
     Dot looks at him for a hint.
     
                                        ART
                         Mom, forget everything I've told you
                         tonight.
     
                                        DOT
                         I have.
                                        ART
                         Just tell him the truth.
     
                                       BIFF
                         The remote control, the paint can,
                         the canvas! He is obviously an artist!
     
     Biff positions himself to disembowel Art.
     
                                        DOT
                         My son? An artist? I should say not.
     
                                        ART
                         Tell 'im, Mom.
     
     Biff raises his knives to strike.
     
                                        DOT
                         He's a chiropractor!
     
     Biff stops.
     
                                       BIFF
                         This man, a doctor? Ha!
     
                                        DOT
                         Show him, Art. Give someone an 
                         adjustment.
     
                                        ART
                         Oh, but--
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Yes, Arthur. It is the only way to prove it.
     
                                        ART
                         But I--
     
                                       BIFF
                         Very well. Mr. Stole?
     
                                        SID
                         Oh, uh. Yes.
     
                                        ART
                         Alright, Sid, take off your jacket and
                         lie down on the coffee table.
     
  BIFF
                         I warn you: One false move and I cut
                         off your friend's hand.
     
     Biff pushes Fred's hand down on the table and holds the knife over it.
     
                                       BIFF
                         The rest of you, face down on the floor!
     
     They comply.
     
                                        ART
                         Is there any place you're feeling 
                         neuro-muscular stiffness?
     
                                        SID
                         Uh, yes. Yes. In my neck. I can't bend
                         my neck back any further than this.
     
     Sid tilts his back slightly, gives Art a wink, then lays down.
     
                                        ART
                         Okay.
     
     Art starts massaging Sid's shoulders. Sid moans gratefully.
     
                                        ART
                         How's that feel?
     
                                        SID
                         Terrific. These are trained hands,
                         I can assure you.
     
                                       BIFF
                         You are giving him a massage.
                         Anyone could do this.
     
     Art grips each side of Sid's head.
     
                                        ART
                         Relax.
     
                                        SID
                         Oh, I am. Completely at ease.
     
                                        ART
                         This shouldn't hurt.
     
     Art suddenly twists Sid's head with a jerk. We hear his bones crackle. 
     Sid cries out, Biff brings the knife down, Fred pulls his hand away 
     just in time.
     
   FRED
                         Art!
     
                                        ART
                         I'm sorry.
                             (turning his attention back to Sid)
                         Now, I surprised you, Sid, but it didn't
                         really hurt, did it?
     
     Sid gives the okay sign, taps his foot on the table as a means to hold 
     in his pain. Biff secures Fred's hand on the table again, not realizing 
     that Fred has replaced his forearm with a marble penis.
     
                                        ART
                         Good. Now, you're going to feel a 
                         little pressure.
     
     Art puts his hands over Sid's upper spine and gives him the kind of 
     jolt you might use to rescusitate a stopped heart. Sid holds in a 
     shriek, though some very strange alternative noises are emmitted.
     
                                        ART
                         How's that? Better?
     
     Sid taps his foot on the table.
     
                                        ART
                         Good.
     
                                        DOT
                         Oh, Art. You're magnificent!
     
                                        ART
                         Now I just need to stretch 
                         out your lateral verticals.
     
     Art takes Sid's foot in the crux of one arm and his head in the crux of 
     an other, and tries to bend Sid backwards until the two ends meet. Sid 
     holds in his scream for as long as he can, then lets out a whopper.
     
                                        SID
                         AHHHH!
     
                                        ART
                         Good, Sid! No pain, no gain!
                         That should do her.
     
                                       BIFF
                         But I was sure you were L'Atexio.
     
                                        ART
                         No, I'm a fully-licensed chiropractic 
                         technician.
     
         Sid slowly tries to get to his feet, but remains in a frozen squatt.
     
                                        ART
                             (to Sid)
                         Alright, Sid. Let's see how that
                         old neck's doing.
                         Go ahead and bend it back.
                             (Sid's head stays erect)
                         Bend it back.
                             (it stays erect)
                         Go ahead, Sid... Tilt that old sucker back.
     
                                        SID
                         I can't! You've crippled me, you dimwit!
     
                                       BIFF
                         Enough! You are a doctor like
                         I am a lounge singer. On your hands and 
                         knees, infidel rodents!
     
                                        SID
                             (re: Bhrundi)
                         Do you know who this is?
                         Ferdinand Bhrundi. He's
                         responsible for the executuion
                         of 200,000 peasents.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Ha! The Emir is responsible for the
                         execution of 400,000 peasents.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         I had my son's thumb cut off for
                         failing geography.
     
                                       BIFF
                         The Emir had his whole family
                         slaughtered for forgetting his birthday.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                             (beat)
                         Who is his publicist?
     
                                        SID
                         Wait! My God, what are we doing?
                         He's in the closet.
     
                                       BIFF
                         Who?
     
                                        SID
                         L'Atexio.
     
        BIFF
                         You think me a fool? A transvestite
                         model with two personalities is
                         in the closet.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         No, it is a madwoman sculptor.
     
                                        DOT
                         No, it's a collection of barbed whips 
                         and hip boots...
                             (the others look at her)
                         Maybe that's someone else's closet.
     
     Biff knocks on the closet door.
     
                                       BIFF
                         This is the Amir of Pepsmir's Master
                         Assassin. Is Akril L'Atexio
                         in there?
     
                                       AKRIL
                             (beat)
                         No.
     
                                        SID
                         He's lying, the coward!
     
                                       BIFF
                         We shall see.
     
     Biff makes the fatal mistake of removing the chisel. Dee and Akril come 
     out as a twisted amalgamation. Dee's hands are quickly on Biff's 
     wrists. Art boldly moves in. Grabbing the only Pillar of Life that is 
     still in tact, he clunks Biff on the head, knocking him out cold.
     
                                        SID
                         Excellent clunk-a-roo!
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Thanks, Bernie.
     
                                        ART
                         And I didn't even break it.
     
     The head of the sculpture slides off and drops to the floor. Dee starts 
     to react violently, but suddenly freezes in a catatonic-like stupro.
     
                                        ART
                         What happened to her?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh. It's a stupor.
     
       ART
                         I thought she was manic-depressive?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, yes. Unless she gets very, very 
                         depressed, then she's catatonic.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         This is the fiendish mind that created
                         "Baba Mohammed From Behind"?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, yes. But you ruined it.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Ruined it?
     
     Akril points to the slashed brown splotch painting.
     
                                        ART
                         The coffee stain?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, yes.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         That is "Baba Mohammed from Behind?"
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oui. That's what Sid called it.
     
     Sid moves to the "dead" painting, grief-stricken.
     
                                        SID
                         My controversy. My mecca of offense.
     
                                        ART
                         So, in a way, Vera, your sacred duty's
                         been fulfilled. The evil has been
                         vanquished, even if it was by accident.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Not by accident. It was the will
                         of Allah. The painting, the deception,
                         it was all part of His divine plan 
                         to bring us together. Are you willing 
                         to be a convert, mon cheri?
     
                                        ART
                         Are you kidding? I'm willing to be anything.
     
     They embrace and kiss. Everyone, save Sid, "aws". Dot applauds.
     
SID
                             (mocking them, indignantly)
                         "Aw"? "AW"?! He's destroyed my 
                         masterpiece!
     
                                        ART
                         I'm sorry, Sid. How about if I give
                         you my painting in it's place?
     
                                        SID
                         Your painting? That's not a painting,
                         it's mindless chaos. Who's going 
                         to buy that?
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                             (re: canvas)
                         It is the most compelling contemporary
                         work I have ever seen. I will
                         pay one million.
     
                                        ART
                         What did you--?
     
                                        SID
                         SHUT UP, YOU GAVE IT TO ME! Armagedden Art! 
                         An Aesthetic Apocolyse of Passion!!
     
                                        DOT
                         How exciting!
     
                                        SID
                         I can see my review now! It'll be
                         a rave. Better yet, a condemnation!
                         We'll be on magazine covers!
                         "L'Atexio triumphs!" He'll be interviewed
                         on every major talk show in the-- 
                         DAH!
     
     A suddenly anguished Sid finds himself face to face with Akril.
     
                                       AKRIL
                         I don't quite understand anything 
                         you're talking about.
     
                                        SID
                         DAH-OHH!
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh. You're mad cause I'm not hiding, but 
                         a one-eyed man in clown pants has my luggage.
     
                                        SID
                         DAH-EE-AHH!
     
     
Sid turns away, sees Art. He looks at Art, then at Akril, does a double take.
     
                                        SID
                             (to Akril)
                         How would you like to be Ed Bread
                         and paint kitchens again?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, yes. Could I start watching 
                         T.V. and have a telephone?
     
                                        SID
                         You got it.
     
     He pushes Akril off to the side.
     
                                        ART
                         But what about Akril L'Atexio?
     
                                        SID
                         You're Akril L'Atexio!
     
                                        ART
                         Me?
     
                                        SID
                         With you as my public figurehead,
                         we can't lose.
     
                                        MEG
                         But that's fraud. 
     
                                        SID
                         C'mon, this is better than anything
                         Ed ever did! 
     
                                        MEG
                         He's a fraud, too. I can't help perpetrate
                         that, I run a gallery.
     
                                        SID
                         Fine. We'll sell exclusively through
                         your gallery.
     
                                        MEG
                         That's not the point. What we'd
                         be selling isn't real art.
     
                                        SID
                         What is art? It's not for us
                         to say. Our job is to produce
                         something, and if they want it
                         on their walls, it's not our fault.
     
                                        ART
                         But Sid, I'm not an artist.
                         I don't even know how I did this.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Think, Arthur. What inspired you?
     
                                        ART
                         I don't know, I was just trying to
                         make you love me....
     
     Art surveys the painting, pointing to various sections of it.
     
                                        ART
                             (continued)
                         Then when Shingles came, I had to prove
                         I was for real... 
                             (to Veronique/of a face print)
                         This is where you and I were
                         about to... you know... then here, 
                         I was mad at Mom, and, just now,
                         I was afraid he was going to 
                         eviscerate me, and... the rest 
                         I have no idea.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         That is art! A need to be
                         loved, to create something worthwhile,
                         to unleash your passion, your anger
                         at your mother, your fear of death,
                         and finally, the hand of fate:
                         your hidden genious.
     
                                        ART
                             (enlightened)
                         Then I really am an artist.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Oui.
     
                                        ART
                         And you are my Muse.
     
     They touch, lovingly. Everyone "Mmms".
     
                                        MEG
                         Eh, I don't know...
     
                                        ART
                         C'mon, Meg, let me be someone.
                         Let me be an artist. I'll 
                         never ask you for another favor...
     
                                        DOT
                         C'mon, Meg, don't be a stick-in-the-mud.
     
                                        SID
                         I won't charge your brother and your
                         boyfriend with breaking and entering.
                
     Fred looks into Meg's eyes, pleadingly.
     
                                        MEG
                             (pause)
                         Alright.
     
                                        ART
                         Thanks, Meg.
     
     Art gives his sister a hug. Everyone reacts, very pleased.
     
                                       FRED
                         Well, Miss Angeley, what would you say
                         to a little late night snack?
     
                                        DOT
                         You're sweet, Fred, but I'm looking for
                         more than a snack. Ferdie here
                         asked me to marry him.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Did I?
      
                                        DOT
                         In the stairwell, when you thought you 
                         were dying.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Ah, yes! You have a good memory.
     
                                        DOT
                         It's selective.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Well, shall we seek out your purse, Dot?
     
                                        DOT
                         To hell with it. Ever since I lost all 
                         those notes, my mind seems clearer.
     
                                        MEG
                         Really, Mom?
     
                                        DOT
                         Let's see. Fred doesn't live upstairs,
                         Ferdie does.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Yes.
     
                                        DOT
                         She's not a dinosaur, she's the 
                         man in the closet's girlfriend.
              
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, yes.
     
                                        DOT
                         The fella with the bowel fixation is
                         actually a Persian assassin, the
                         sort of rat-weasel faced man holding him is
                         Sid, your publicist, and Art's not
                         a chiropractor, he's an artist.
     
                                        ART
                         Right. Wow, Mom.
     
                                        MEG
                         That's terrific.
     
                                        DOT
                         Well, my mother always said, "I have
                         a great memory..."
     
                                        ART
                             (beat)
                         "It's just short."
     
                                        DOT
                         What is?
     
                                        ART
                         Nevermind.
     
     Veronique kisses Art on the back of the neck.
     
                                        ART
                         Well, goodnight, everyone.
     
     Dee moans as Akril gets her to her feet. 
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Is there anything we can do for her?
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Oh, no. She'll be back to her old 
                         self in a day or two.
     
                                        ART
                         Ed, here are the keys to your new apartment. 
                         30-12 41st Street, Queens.
     
                                       AKRIL
                         Hm? Oh, yes. Good, I like Queens.
     
     Akril and Dee exit.
             
                                        ART
                         Fred, do you think you and Meg could
                         drag Shingles to the lobby on your
                         way out, maybe call the F.B.I.
     
     The starry-eyed lovers walk past Art, ignoring him completely.
     
                                        ART
                         I'll do it.
     
     Art grabs Sid to help.
     
                                        ART
                         Thanks, Sid.
     
     Art helps heft Biff up onto Sid's shoulder.
     
                                        ART
                         I owe you.
     
                                        SID
                         Ninety percent of everything you
                         make from now on, you dimwit.
     
     Sid exits with Biff.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Shall I reserve the Q.E. II
                         for our honeymoon?
     
                                        DOT
                         The whole thing? My! I heard you'd
                         embezzled 300 million from your 
                         government, but I thought it
                         was propaganda.
     
                                      BHRUNDI
                         Not everything you read is propaganda.
     
     Dot gives Art a kiss on the cheek, sees herself in a mirror by the 
     door. 
                                        DOT
                         Ugh! They just don't make mirrors 
                         like they used to.
     
     Dot exits with Bhrundi, Art closes the door and turns to Veronique.
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Oh, Arthur. Finally, we are alone.
     
     He moves closer.
     
                          ART
                         Finally...
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Finally...
     
     He embraces her.
     
                                        ART
                         Finally...
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         Finally...
     
                                        ART
                         Finally!
     
                                     VERONIQUE
                         You can paint me.
     
     On Art's reaction, we black out.
     
     
                                    END OF PLAY

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