It’s come to the part where the show must tragically end. The audience are holding their breaths whispering, “Oh dear, oh dear, what an unpredictable conclusion!”
Paranoia is enjoying feast on an end of the stage
Devils are shoving daggers and razorblades from the other end to the center stage. The two main talents are trapped ibetween with no options. Door to the backstage is tastelessly jammed with a rusty pipe, and before them laid hundreds of anticipating strangers.
“Pick up any of the razorblades, fool!” cries a devil to one of the talents while the rest of its kind is trying to make the floor director disappear. So, with a trembling hand the devilishly directed talent picks up a blade and presses it on her left wrist. Fresh, fresh red blood flows to bathe the last act.
“Oh dear, oh dear, what a tragedy! I thought it would be a choking love story.” Says a weeping lady in the front row.
The other talent has no line to say but owns the whole liberty to motions. Alas, he chooses to be petrified like a cursed cat. Who knows what he really feels. A horrifying sound of trumpets and furiously played piano finishes off the poorly performed tale.
And so the show is done. Curtain is down. Stage lights are off and the green EXIT lamp is on to show the way out.
“Thank you for your coming, ladies and gentlemen. Please make sure you have all of your belongings with you before leaving the theater.”
– THE END –