(4 of 4)
Wait—don't you want to hear about my new play? It's about people trying to survive—literally stay alive—in the contemporary world. Actually, it's grim as hell.
A.M.
Sure, sure. I'll probably choke to death laughing at it. (The MASS vanishes, leaving only a smile.)
SIMON
Don't go! I like plays to have happy endings.
A.M.
Then stick with Old Doc Simon's prescription...
SIMON But you just said—
A.M.
Since when are audiences consistent? Besides, how do I know what I feel till I see what you say?
Even the smile disappears, leaving nothing but a man and a dog. They walk home morosely. The dog goes to sleep, and the man goes to work, producing eleven plays, six films and five musicals in the next two years. They match the G.N.P. dollar for dollar, making the AMORPHOUS MASS, the critics and the IRS delirious. SIMON continues to swing his racket in the dark, waiting either for a bus or an inspiration for a new and purely serious masterpiece. Neither vehicle arrives.
CURTAIN