Philip Gretch
Eudora Hat
Ogden Lardner
Silas Pennywhistle
Ned Beiderbecke

[The scene is a teacher's lounge. A relaxed Philip Gretch leans against the counter sipping coffee. Eudora Hat enters.]

EUDORA: [hanging jacket on chair] Phil, don't you have class now?

GRETCH: Yes.

EUDORA: [pause] That's what I thought.

GRETCH: So, how's your day been, Eudora?

EUDORA: Well, Steven Fingerpot got his pencil stuck in his ear. Marjorie Muckle wouldn't stop crying about her lost puppy. And Herbie wet himself once again.

GRETCH: Ah, the joys of high school. It's like I never left.

EUDORA: [grunts] I think I'm getting a migraine.

GRETCH: [helpfully retrieves a packet from his pocket] Horse sedative?

EUDORA: No thanks. Not now. [After a pause of contemplation] Gretch, what are you doing with a horse sedative?

GRETCH: [glares at the packet, slightly bewildered] I don't know.

[Eudora gets coffee, stares into cup, looks back and forth between her cup and Gretch's.]

EUDORA: Why do we teachers all drink coffee?

GRETCH: Because we can't afford a heroin habit on a teacher's salary.

EUDORA: [sets coffee aside determinably] I'm through with it then. I don't want to be like all teachers. I want to be unique. I'll find my own unique beverage to drink.

GRETCH: Good luck, but I think you'll find Tibetan goat's milk difficult to stock the vending machine with.

EUDORA: It doesn't have to be goat's milk. How about sarsaparilla?

GRETCH: Go right ahead.

EUDORA: Well, it doesn't matter what it is, as long as people recognise it as MY drink. [Sticks a wad of gum in her mouth] So what's the story with Ned Beiderbecke? Word on the street is you have it in for him.

GRETCH: That leprous scab let the air out of my tires last week.

EUDORA: Why don't you report him? Have him suspended.

GRETCH: Nah. Yesterday I welded his bikechain closed. He was out there til seven in the evening trying to get it open. It was pretty funny actually.

EUDORA: You're as bad as the kids, Phil.

GRETCH: [off-handedly] Yeah, well...

EUDORA: What's that smell?

[Ogden Lardner enters. Heads straight for the coffee machine.]

GRETCH: Hi, Ogden. How's the lumbago?

LARDNER: Phil, don't you have class now?

GRETCH: I'm skipping.

LARDNER: [blinking] Come again.

GRETCH: I'm skipping. Didn't feel like going.

LARDNER: Isn't that rather... dangerous?

GRETCH: Ah, they're grown kids. They can take care of themselves, right?

LARDNER: [dubiously] Uh, yeah. Hey, d'you guys hear about Kelly Finkleman?

GRETCH: You mean the little blonde number who sits in the front row of your drama class?

LARDNER: That's her. What a doll. Those short skirts...

GRETCH: Really make your Shakespeare stand upright, eh?

LARDNER: Mmm... anyway, guess what. She's pregnant.

EUDORA: [with a laugh] Oh my stars!

GRETCH: Well, can't say I'm surprised.

EUDORA: Do you know who the father is?

LARDNER: Larry the janitor says he overheard Craig Crenshaw bragging about it in the cafeteria. I don't believe it though.

GRETCH: Yeah, I'd swear that monosyllabic lizard would be impotent by now—the amount of chemicals he sucks in a day.

EUDORA: That kid has some serious gastrointestinal problems. Whew.

LARDNER: And what's with his hair?

GRETCH: Don't mock. He's a recovering skinhead. It takes time for the swastika to grow out.

EUDORA: [staring deep into her lunchbag] I've had it with red meat. I'm going to become a strict vegetarian. Do you know the amount of cholesterol in red meat? Do you know how much longer you'll live by not eating it?

LARDNER: What good is living longer if you can't eat steak?

EUDORA: As incredible as it seems, there are more important things in life than your stomach.

GRETCH: First it's the coffee, now it's the diet. What's with all the self-modification lately?

EUDORA: Nothing. I just have to find who I am. Everyone goes through it. It just takes some of us longer. I'm just being me.

GRETCH: Well, good luck to you. I wish I were me. Then I'd remember where I parked.

[Silas Pennywhistle enters. He walks stiffly, carrying himself like a diminuative Eric Von Stroheim.]

EUDORA: [resumes chewing gum, blowing the occasional bubble] Uh oh. Look who's climbed down from his high horse.

SILAS: Philip, I just passed the gymnasium. Your students are just sitting on the bleachers stone silent with this completely perplexed look on their faces. It's all rather alarming.

GRETCH: Really? No fights breaking out? No runtlings being hung up by their underwear bands? No complete and utter anarchy?

SILAS: Nothing. Just an eerie silence.

GRETCH: Hmm. Frankly I'm a little disappointed in these kids. What has become of their initiative?

SILAS: This is very irresponsible behaviour on your part, Philip. I strongly recommend returning to your gym class. Those kids need authority. They need leadership.

GRETCH: They need a collective goosing with a pneumatic drill, is what they need.

LARDNER: Heh. I know a few lovelies I'd like to goose.

SILAS: [glaring] Vulgarian.

LARDNER: Superintendent's pet.

SILAS: I am not. [Switches glare to Eudora] Eudora, take out your gum. That's disgusting.

EUDORA: Make me.

[Eudora opens her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue. Silas flinches and heads for the door.]

SILAS: Oh, and incidentally, Philip. You may be interested to know someone glued a large quantity of feathers to your car.

[Silas exits, pleased with himself.]

GRETCH: What! Why, that little...

[Gretch dashes out of the lounge leaving Eudora and Lardner conspicuously alone.]

LARDNER: [after an uncomfortable pause] Uh, I like your hair like that, Eudora.

EUDORA: Oh, thanks.

LARDNER: [hastily] I mean, it looked good before too, but now it looks good also.

EUDORA: Thanks.

LARDNER: Yeah, when you came in last week with it done differently, I thought "oh, that looks really nice." Not to say it didn't before, but I thought it looked especially nice now.

EUDORA: Well, you know. You get tired of one thing after a while. You start looking for a change.

LARDNER: [with nervous energy] Oh, I know exactly what you mean. It's like, I used to have this leather wallet and I really liked it, but after a while it started wearing out, and things started dropping out of it, and for a while I just taped up the hole, but that didn't look very good, so eventually I needed to get a new one. But this time, instead of getting another leather wallet just like it, I went and got... well guess I did get another leather one. But I know what you mean.

EUDORA: Uh, yeah. Something like that.

[Phil storms in, fuming and grimly determined.]

GRETCH: Alright. This is war. Ogden, I'm gonna need six gallons of mayonnaise, some dry ice, a handful of balloons, some kerosene, two packages of swizzle sticks, as much rope as you can muster, and one of those long extending orthopedic arms.

EUDORA: Phil, calm down. You're only going to make matters worse.

GRETCH: Forget it, Eudora. No one tar and feathers my Chevy and gets away with it.

EUDORA: Two wrongs don't make a right.

GRETCH: No, but three lefts do.

EUDORA: Well, I've got to go check my mailbox. Try and contain yourself until I get back.

[Eudora exits.]

LARDNER: [bravado reintact] Hey, I think Eudora has the hots for me. Notice how she never looks directly at me? That is pure lust, my friend.

GRETCH: Don't bother me now, Ogden. I've got my own problems.

LARDNER: [to himself] I wonder if she dyes her eyelashes.

GRETCH: [lamenting] My car, my beautiful car. So many memories. So many speeding tickets. So many opened cases of liquor. [Sighs] Once again God slips me the cosmic handbuzzer.

LARDNER: So, does she ever talk about me?

GRETCH: Who?

LARDNER: Eudora, of course.

GRETCH: [with slight irritation] Yes, all the time.

LARDNER: Really? What does she say?

GRETCH: She says your mock machismo lust is clearly a front concealing your latent homosexual urges.

LARDNER: What? You're joking.

GRETCH: Yeah.

LARDNER: Good. [Pause] Cuz I'm not gay. [Another pause] Yep, I only have sex with girls. Women, that is. Grown... women. [Resumes] So what else has she said about me?

GRETCH: Nothing.

LARDNER: Nothing?

GRETCH: [growing exasperated] Nothing, Ogden. You're a complete nonentity to her. In fact I'd be surprised if she could even recall your name at a moment's notice. God, you're really becoming a pain in the nadir.

LARDNER: Well, you're just jealous cuz she wants me instead of you.

GRETCH: [sagely clamps hand on Lardner's shoulder] Ogden, never pick a penguin up by its beak. [Exits]

LARDNER: [after futile contemplation] What?

[Lardner sits down and sighs. Eudora enters and heads for the icebox. Lardner follows her with his eyes.]

LARDNER: Hi.

[Eudora mutters something in response.]

LARDNER: You have a really pretty name, you know?

EUDORA: [paying little attention] Uh huh.

LARDNER: "Eudora"... is that Russian?

EUDORA: Sure.

LARDNER: What do you think of my name?

EUDORA: Uh, it's a nice name.

LARDNER: Say my name, would you?

EUDORA: Why, have you forgotten it?

LARDNER: I just want to hear you say it.

EUDORA: [Pokes her head out of the icebox] Are you feeling alright? You look kind of peakéd. Maybe you should see the nurse.

LARDNER: She's not half as pretty as you.

EUDORA: [rolling her eyes] Oh, so that's it. You're delusional.

[Eudora returns her attention to the icebox, bending a little to peer deep inside.]

LARDNER: [to himself] C'mon, man. Get ahold of yourself. Women want you to be direct with 'em. Show 'em you always get what you're after. Then they'll respect you.

[Lardner rises and sidles over to her.]

EUDORA: What happened to the mayonnaise?

[Lardner nonchalantly lets his hand fall to her backside. She spins around and belts him. He pratfalls to the floor.]

EUDORA: Creep. [Exits]

LARDNER: [burying face in hands] Ah, what have I done?

[Gretch enters cheerfully, stepping over the wounded Lardner.]

GRETCH: Hey, I just passed Eudora. This time she had plenty to say about you.

LARDNER: Oh no. Run and get her, will you? Tell her it was a mistake. Tell her I was just trying to swat off an insect.

[Silas enters. He is rather startled to see Gretch.]

SILAS: Oh, I didn't realise you were still here. I had thought you had wisely taken up my suggestion to return to class. I heard a loud ruckus coming from the gym and figured you had resumed your duty.

GRETCH: Not I.

SILAS: Honestly, why you would prefer to spend your time in this dingy place. [Sniffs]. Don't you notice a peculiar odour in here?

LARDNER: [sniffs also] I don't smell anything.

[Eudora rushes in breathlessly.]

EUDORA: Oh my Lord! You're not going to believe this. The students are revolting.

GRETCH: Yes, we're all quite aware of that.

EUDORA: No, I mean they're attempting to overthrow the school administration through violent means.

SILAS: Jumping anaconda!

EUDORA: Your gym students have snapped, Phil. They've banded together with Henderson's woodshop class. They've duct-taped Henderson to the floorwaxer and are riding him in circles around the gym.

GRETCH: [to himself] My God, that two-bit carnival swami was right all along!

LARDNER: Why hasn't anyone done anything about it?

EUDORA: I don't know. I'll try and make my way to the principal's office and see what the story is.

[Eudora exits.]

SILAS: [tense] This is all your doing, Philip. You're whimsical truancy is all to blame.

GRETCH: Well, at least they're showing some spirit. I knew if we left them alone long enough they'd stir.

SILAS: This is utterly unbelievable. This sort of thing was never tolerated in my day.

LARDNER: In your day?

SILAS: In the old days, when a student got into mischief, we bent them across the desk and gave them a good smack on the backside. We had discipline then. Now we can't lay a measly finger on them, and they laugh in our faces. Oh, how I long for the days I could bend those arrogant young troublemakers across my lap and warm their little bums with the broadside of my hand.

GRETCH: Silas, you're revealing considerably more than we'd care to know about you.

[Eudora returns.]

EUDORA: Okay, here's the latest update. They've stormed the cafeteria and taken Mrs Greenwich hostage.

LARDNER: Who?

EUDORA: Mrs Greenwich.

[Gretch and Lardner exchange puzzled looks.]

EUDORA: She hands out the rolls in the lunch line.

LARDNER: Oh. Well, those lunchladies all look alike to me.

SILAS: Well, let's not just stand here. Has Principal Figgly been alerted?

EUDORA: Yes, he fled the school grounds the moment he was told.

GRETCH: Well that's just typical.

EUDORA: The principal's office is deserted, except for Miss Lesterbang the secretary. I found her hiding under her desk shaking convulsively. I could barely get a word out of her, she was so scared.

SILAS: [with shaky voice] So, who's in charge now?

EUDORA: I guess we are.

GRETCH: Splendid. Then we're doomed.

EUDORA: No we're not. Which of you is willing to negotiate with these terrorists?

[A pin drops.]

EUDORA: Okay, you cowards. I'll take charge. Ogden, I need you to be my spy.

LARDNER: In your house of love!

EUDORA: Button it, you bonehead. Phil, you're the brains.

GRETCH: Now we are doomed.

LARDNER: Hey, why does he get to be the brains?

EUDORA: Just do what you're told. Go find the ringleader and find out what his demands are.

LARDNER: But, how do I...?

EUDORA: Go!

[Lardner scampers off.]

SILAS: [nervously] What about me?

EUDORA: Why don't you make a trip down to the deli. We'll need nourishment. Bring me a roast beef sandwich... medium rare. And plenty of coffee.

GRETCH: [politely] I'll just take some chips and a pickle.

[Doubtfully, Silas exits.]

EUDORA: Okay, we're going to need a plan.

GRETCH: Shall we just bolt the lounge door and wait 'em out? We can have a secret knock to distinguish friend from foe.

EUDORA: No, we're the adults. We have to take action. Maybe we can enclose them somehow in the cafeteria. With nothing to eat but cafeteria food, we would soon starve them into submission.

GRETCH: Aha, besiege them into surrender. That may just work.

EUDORA: [sniffs] What's that smell?

[An attempt is made to open the locked door from the outside. There comes a knock.]

GRETCH: Who's there?

LARDNER: [muffled] It's me, Ogden.

GRETCH: Give the secret knock.

EUDORA: Phil, we haven't made one.

[Mildly convinced, Gretch unbolts the door and lets in a slightly war-ravaged Lardner. Gretch swiftly bolts the door again.]

GRETCH: Okay, but from now on the secret knock will be two long knocks, five short ones, three medium length ones, another slightly long one, followed by three brisk ones. Got it?

EUDORA: I really think we can just identify each other by our voices. After all, there's only four of us.

GRETCH: Fine, but if we suffer defeat due to infiltration, don't come running to me for help.

EUDORA: So tell us what you found, Ogden.

LARDNER: I've made contact with the ringleader. It's Ned Beiderbecke. He's still pissed about the bike chain incident.

GRETCH: Why that flatulent little weasel.

EUDORA: Phil, we have to stay calm. We must remain rational and not let personal feelings interfere.

LARDNER: He says he wants Phil to come out—unarmed, or they'll deepfry Mrs Greenwich.

GRETCH: Uh-uh. No way. I'm not going out there alone.

LARDNER: And if you still refuse to come out, he's threatened to torch the school. I think he's serious. He even showed me his cigarette lighter. I told him those things weren't allowed in school, but it didn't seem to faze him.

EUDORA: Maybe you'd better do what they want, Phil.

[Gretch clutches the table leg obstinately.]

LARDNER: Well we can't let them burn down the school. We'll be out of our jobs.

GRETCH: I'll have to go back to sweeping out the llama cage at the pet farm. Ugh.

EUDORA: Actually, that's not a very drastic career change.

[Silas can be heard beating frantically on the door.]

SILAS: Let me in! For God's almighty oven, let me in!

GRETCH: Give the secret knock.

[Ignoring him, Eudora yanks open the door and lets in a wild-eyed and blustering Silas.]

SILAS: This institution has become a madhouse! Has order been so forsaken?

GRETCH: Did you bring my chips?

SILAS: I failed to even safely leave the building. Those hoodlums cornered me by the home economics room. They've got all the exits barricaded. We're trapped in here like rodents in a shoebox. We'll never get out!

EUDORA: How awful. What happened to you?

SILAS: Oh, it was ghastly. They bound me to a swivel chair and forcefed me student-made chocolate mousse. It was the most hideous anomaly I have ever tasted. I shall never eat chocolate again. Fortunately the ropes weren't tied very securely. Those hooligans couldn't even fasten a simple square knot correctly. I only managed to escape by warding off those fiends with a metal spatula dipped in hot cooking grease.

GRETCH: [ruing to himself] I was hungry for chips.

EUDORA: Well, we're glad your safe, Silas.

SILAS: Oh how I long for the days of Principal Glake. That man was a true disciplinarian. He wouldn't have allowed for any of this nonsense.

GRETCH: Principal Glake? I remember him. I set fire to his toupee when I was in eighth grade.

SILAS: The man was my mentor. My idol, if you will. A finer man never strode through these corridors. He was a godsend to the educational community. We have suffered a great loss since his passing.

EUDORA: Isn't he the one who used to slip into classrooms disguised as a student.

GRETCH: Well, what he'd do was don a long wig, some sandals, then sit at the back of a classroom and say "daddy-o" sporadically.

SILAS: It was his way of blending in with the student body. Keeping in touch, so to speak.

LARDNER: [excitedly] Maybe that's our way out of here.

EUDORA: Explain.

LARDNER: We could disguise ourselves as students somehow, and slip nonchalantly through the crowd and right out the front doors to safety.

GRETCH: Not likely. For one, that would require bones through our noses and radioactive clothing. Our resources are just too limited at the moment.

LARDNER: What if we sneak out, knock out a few kids on the head, drag them back here, tie them up, and steal their clothes?

GRETCH: Forget it, Ogden. That only works in movies. This is the stage.

LARDNER: Ah yes.

EUDORA: Well at least he's trying to come up with an answer to this mess, unlike the rest of us.

GRETCH: The answer is simple.

EUDORA: What?

GRETCH: In fact, it's beyond simple. It is simplicity itself.

LARDNER: What already?

GRETCH: One of us just sneaks into the Principal's office, flips on the intercom, and announces that school is out.

[There is a brief moment of speculation.]

LARDNER: Well why didn't you say so earlier?

GRETCH: I had to figure out the logistics in my head.

EUDORA: Okay, so who's going to try to make it to the main office?

GRETCH: Not I. Beiderbecke the Insipid will recognise my voice and suspect a trick.

EUDORA: Ogden?

GRETCH: He's no good either. He has the Voice of the Enemy. It's gonna have to be Silas or you. Only you two have the appropriate vocal tones. Silas is just snuffy enough to work, and you've got that secretarial tinge.

SILAS: You're not sending me out into that band of savages! I refuse to go.

LARDNER: Well, it looks like it's up to you, Eudora.

EUDORA: What a courageous bunch of men you are. Fine, I'll go. But I'd better get a plaque or something for this.

[Eudora exits.]

LARDNER: So what do we do while she's gone?

GRETCH: We could play pinochle, but my iguana ate my only deck of cards.

LARDNER: That's okay. I've haven't been able to play cards ever since a certain childhood trauma which I wouldn't care to discuss at this moment.

GRETCH: [sniffing] Ogden, what is that you're wearing?

LARDNER: [looking down at his apparel] What, my tie?

GRETCH: No, your cologne.

LARDNER: Oh, you like it? It's called Isle of Guano.

GRETCH: Ah. Well, it's making my nosehairs cramp.

[Knock knock.]

GRETCH: Who's there?

NED: [disguised voice] Hi, uh. It's Mister Criswalt.

GRETCH: The geography teacher?

NED: Yeah, that's me.

SILAS: Let him in, Philip.

GRETCH: I don't think that's Criswalt.

SILAS: What do you mean? Who else could it be?

GRETCH: Hey Criswalt. What's the capitol of Vermont?

NED: It's, um, well... I don't know. Just let me in.

LARDNER: Aww, come on, Phil. That's a tough one.

GRETCH: Okay, I'll give him another. What's the capitol of Rhode Island?

NED: Oh, wait, I know this one. The capitol of Rhode Island is, um... Rhode Island... City?

GRETCH: See, that's not Criswalt. Scram you imposter.

NED: No, let me in. I'm wounded.

GRETCH: Wounded? How?

NED: I was attacked by a mob of angry home ec students armed with... tweezers. Really sharp ones. I've lost a considerable amount of blood.

SILAS: See, Philip. That's why he can't think straight. He's under a great deal of stress.

NED: I'm growing weak.

LARDNER: I don't know. Maybe it is him, Phil.

NED: Oh, the pain. The wretched pain.

GRETCH: I know that's you, Ned Beiderbecke, you odourous groinstain!

NED: [normal voice] Curse you, Gretch. I'm not finished with you yet, you totalitarian menace! [coughs, undermining his threat]

GRETCH: [ear pressed to the door] I think the bastard has gone.

LARDNER: You were right. It was Ned all along. What do you suppose he wanted?

GRETCH: The Lord only knows. No telling what peril awaits outside the door.

SILAS: [under great emotional strain] Well, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place, you... you irresponsible cad.

GRETCH: Hey, hey. Just thought I'd liven things up a bit. No need to get hostile.

[Lights go down on stage, a single spotlight comes up and Silas steps into it.]

SILAS: [sobbing] All I ever wanted to do was educate children, like my father before me, like his father before him. Where oh where did I go wrong? Father I've failed you. Oh forlorn!

GRETCH: Will you stop that!

[Gretch grabs Silas and yanks him out of the spotlight. Lights go up. Gretch and Lardner glance upwards perplexed by the sudden changes in lighting.]

SILAS: I can't go on! This anguish is unbearable. We shall surely perish.

EUDORA: [over loudspeaker] Attention students. School is dismissed. I repeat, school is dismissed. Have a pleasant afternoon. Thank you.

LARDNER: How relieving. We're saved.

SILAS: Oh no we're not. We'll never make it out alive. It was Philip's idea, wasn't it? I'll bet you're in with them, aren't you? You've never behaved like a proper teacher. You're a plant, aren't you? Admit it. You've come to be the downfall of this establishment. And you, Odgen. You're in it with him. You're his little lackey. Oh yes, you can't pull the wool over me. I've been on to you from the start. You and your little scheme to bring chaos and destruction to our happy little hut of higher learning.

GRETCH: Silas, if you don't calm down we're going to be forced to strap you to the fridge.

SILAS: You all hate me, don't you? You just hate me because I'm so good and sparkly. I'll kill you all! With this... [gropes for something off the table] this pencil sharpener.

[Silas approachs Gretch, menacingly whirling the handle of the pencil sharpener. Lardner steps back in alarm. Gretch snatches up a protractor in defense.]

GRETCH: I don't wanna have to hurt you, Silas. Just put that thing down.

[They begin attacking each other awkwardly with the ill-suited weapons. In the midst of this, Eudora dashes excitedly into the lounge.]

EUDORA: It worked, Phil. It... [surveys their fighting stance] What the hell are you doing?

[Gretch and Silas hide their weapons behind their backs somewhat bashfully.]

EUDORA: You were fighting? I leave you alone for a few minutes and you start fighting?

LARDNER: [muscularly] I tried to stop them.

EUDORA: Well anyway, as soon as the students heard the announcement, they immediately dropped what they were doing and fled the building.

LARDNER: Miraculous!

EUDORA: And tomorrow everything will return to normal. We'll all get a good night's rest and the damage will be repaired. And everything will continue as if nothing had ever happened, because the administration that runs this barnyard is too gutless to do anything but forget it ever took place. But in any case, the school is safe for the time being.

SILAS: [drops the pencil sharpener and mops his brow with a handkerchief] Oh, how relieving. [Hastily] I shall head directly home and take a sedative. Philip, I expect this incident has served as a lesson to you, and I certainly hope you think twice before playing truant a second time. Good day to you all.

[With an arrogant sniff, Silas exits. Gretch wields his protractor threateningly at the disappearing Silas, then realises the futility and tosses his weapon on the table.]

LARDNER: May I escort you to your car, Eudora?

EUDORA: Why?

LARDNER: Well, there may still be some ruffians lurking in the hallways, waiting to ambush us as we leave. You never know. You just can't take that chance.

EUDORA: True, and you'll need someone to fend them off as you run screaming for help. Okay, let's go. But no unnecessary fondling.

[Lardner eagerly licks his lips as he follows Eudora's shapely figure out the door. Eudora and Lardner exit. Gretch gathers up his belongings. He takes a last look around the lounge.]

GRETCH: [with a sigh] My, what a day.

[Gretch tries the lounge door but discovers it won't yield. It is being held shut from the other side.]

GRETCH: Odd.

[Suddenly the door is flung open, and a weasely student stands in the doorframe with as much menace as he can muster.]

NED: So, Gretch. At last we meet.

GRETCH: Out of my way, cruton. I'm going home. We'll continue this tomorrow morning.

NED: Not on your poor misdirected life. Not while I've got you cornered.

GRETCH: Look—my feet hurt, my stomach is empty, and my pet iguana needs feeding. This piece of nonsense can wait until tomorrow.

NED: Oh no. We're going to settle this right now. Just the two of us.

GRETCH: Well I must say I didn't expect you to stick around after your cronies abandoned you.

NED: Hedonists, the lot of them. They have no principles. Screw it. I don't need them.

GRETCH: Is that so? And pray tell, what are these mighty principles which you hold so dear?

NED: What are my principles, you ask? I'm looking out for my generation's well-being. I refuse to let its spirit be crushed by the likes of you ironfisted authoritarians. We will not cave in to your attempts to mold us like mere breakfast waffles.

GRETCH: Yeah, yeah. Frankly, I think you've read far too much sixties propaganda. [Ponders] Hmm, little did I suspect I'd ever tell anyone younger than myself that they've read too much.

NED: Hold your tongue, tyrant. You soul-sucking ogre. You who wants to shackle us to deskchairs and fill our minds with rubbish to stifle our creativity, which threatens your dominion. You who wants to forcefeed us dribble and manipulate us like clockwork so we can do your bidding. So we can become your obedient robots to carry out your every maniacal whim.

GRETCH: [taking a moment to recover] And you actually believe all that misguided idealism?

NED: Of course.

GRETCH: Well, first of all, I'm the gym teacher. I tell you to fling rubber air-filled balls at each other. I think your gripe is somewhat misdirected. Second of all, if you think school is such a waste of your valuable time, then don't come. Christ, I never went to school when I was your age.

NED: Now, that is hardly an option, since laws and parents mandate our attendance—not to mention our future livelihoods.

GRETCH: Uh huh, so you're going to resign yourself to your fate, but annoy everyone around you by sniveling about it? If you just complain about your situation now but lack the audacity to remedy it, you're just going to grow up to do the same thing. You'll be one of those guys who whines about how dismal their job is, but will meanwhile have firmly entrenched themselves in it. So—don't.

NED: You're not fooling me for a second with your pedant tricks. I'm not listening to a word.

GRETCH: [with a sigh] What am I doing? I don't expect you to listen to me. I never listened to anyone at your age. Teachers really need some way of humbling their students. Cuz every former pubescent Sparticus looks back and realises what a self-righteous plungerhead they were. Bullies, actually—just looking for anything within arm's reach to overthrow. You're just bored. As youth it's your duty to give your parents the finger. But since your parents are so damn easygoing, you have to go considerably out of your way to piss them off. In my day it was easy—just forego haircuts and general hygiene. Today—due to the inflation of shock value—you have to practice amputation and third-degree scorching just to get any kind of response out of them. It just seems like a waste that you're going to have to spend all the time I already did learning what I've now figured out—when you could just listen to me and save a lot of needless combat. Well, I suppose that was the way we were designed—and it keeps us from becoming too elegant a species.

[During his monologue, Gretch begins preparing two cups of coffee and surreptitiously empties the horse sedative into one of the cups.]

NED: A revolution is long overdue. You sixties people have failed and joined the enemy. I'm going to take up from where you left off, but I shall avoid the mistakes you made.

GRETCH: One last generation gasp before keeling over, eh? Well, before you decide to storm the Bastille, I suggest you crawl under a lonely bridge somewhere and take a long toot on that flugelhorn of contemplation. I hope you realise what you're up against. It takes a strong spine for what you have in mind. You know what a spine is, right? It's that long bony thing in your back that connects your brain to your ass. Here, have some coffee.

NED: Away from me with that vile brew. Is that how you teachers convert innocent people to your nefarious ways?

GRETCH: C'mon, have a sip. Maybe it'll stunt your growth.

[Ned reluctantly takes the drugged coffee and peers into it suspiciously.]

NED: You probably tainted it with some kind of conformity-inducing chemical.

GRETCH: That's right. One sip of this and your identity will seep down your trouser legs and dampen your socks. Two sips and you'll be joining country clubs and voting Republican. Now drink up. You know you wanna.

[Ned takes a careful sip.]

NED: Too much sugar.

GRETCH: See, now were you a bonafide revolutionist, you would thrive on sugar. You would gulp down those paper sugar packets by the handful.

NED: I'm watching my blood-sugar level.

[Ned takes a longer swallow of coffee.]

GRETCH: The authentic revolutionist must be well-fed. You know the old song: "All we are saying is give piece a cake." Eat well and your feet will follow.

NED: Ridiculous. To my knowledge most of the great revolutionists have been rather lean.

[Ned finishes the coffee and sets the cup down.]

GRETCH: Ah, but who are the great revolutionists? The blazing-eyed souls in your history textbook—which you've probably never opened? Nah, those are the figureheads. The true dissenter shuns publicity, recognising it for what it is—a hindrance. If a revolutionist you truly want to be, you'll need a cover. A secret identity. All successful revolutionists have one. You'll have to move to the west coast and get a job as a Chinaman. Then you'll be free to construct your pipebombs in private without police periscopes in your windows and microphones hidden in your toilet.

[Ned seems slightly affected by the coffee.]

NED: Se... secret identity?

GRETCH: Yeah, sort of like Zorro. See, he wouldn't be able to get away with his Zorro-ness had he not had another identity whom no one suspected. Someone very unheroic. Someone who would be the last to cause trouble. The only difference is you should put your mask on, not take it off.

NED: [groggily] I think I understand. Like a meek bank teller?

GRETCH: Sure. But the best place to hide silverware is in the silverware drawer.

[Ned smiles and nods at the advice, then his expression changes when he realises he has no clue as to what it means.]

GRETCH: If you want to pick something they'll never suspect, become one of them. Become authority. On surface appearance anyhow.

NED: You mean like a policeman?

GRETCH: Exactly.

NED: Or like a judge?

GRETCH: Yes. [Pause] Or like a gym teacher.

[Overwhelmed by the coffee, Ned slumps to the ground. Gretch nonchalantly saunters offstage, returns with an enormous tub of mayonnaise and sets it beside the prostrate figure. He repeats this performance, returning in turn with dry ice, balloons, kerosene, swizzle sticks, rope, and orthopedic arm. Meanwhile the lights dim and the damn thing ends.]