Female Student, 19
Male Student, 19
Lights up on the FEMALE STUDENT dancing on pointe shoes while simultaneously playing Ravel on the violin and reading Chaucer. She whispers to the audience.
FEMALE STUDENT.
I'm a fraud. This is the only song I know on the violin, I've only just begun pointe and Geoffrey Chaucer puts me to sleep.
The MALE STUDENT enters SL on a unicycle while playing polo and alternatively talking on the phone in fluent Spanish and playing Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" on the harmonica. He rides in circles around the Female Student.
MALE STUDENT.
Can you reconcile T.S. Eliot's preoccupation with, and perhaps aspirations for, sainthood with his supposed anti-Semitism?
He rides off SR.
FEMALE STUDENT.
You lose the magic when I tell you the truth. The illusion snaps off the invisible spiderweb threads holding it up. You think that I'm a remarkable person before you learn I'm only remarkable as long as the talent act lasts.
The Male Student enters from SR.
MALE STUDENT.
Doesn't St. Ignatius Loyola's admission that predestination is compatible with Catholicism make the Reformation and its bloody aftermath seem a bit absurd?
Pause.
I think that the tragedies of history are just God's big joke. Which might be why I'm an atheist.
Pause.
FEMALE STUDENT.
Want to get wasted and make bad decisions that we have to hide from the newspapers years from now when we run for political office?
MALE STUDENT.
Sure.
END.
