(A
PASSAGE addresses a disinterested audience.)
PASSAGE
I
remember clearly the sound of the radiator hissing and the smell of the
paint---for radiators ought never to be painted, yet so often are---and I
recall the way that the air moved an old mobile hanging over the radiator,
currents causing crinkled papers to shimmy. The mobile was an old school project, faded construction
paper planets tied to a brass coat hanger.
The strings were tangled from years of their radiator dance.
(Looking
at the audience)
Hey, I’m
describing up here!
A HECKLER
Describe
my ass!
PASSAGE
I’d have
to know it to do it.
(Members
of the AUDIENCE hoot.)
PASSAGE
(Continued)
If you
think what I’m doing is easy, come up and do it yourself!
AN AUDIENCE MEMBER
No,
no. You just do what you do.
(The
PASSAGE turns its attention to wild artichokes.)
END
OF “THE DESCRIPTIVE PASSAGE.”
