Won Ton On

NOT REALLY HARRY'S VOICE:
ECUAS-NZBE?

THING-FISH:
Whiff it, Boy! Whiff it good, now! MAMMIES, step forward 'n try t'git on down wit dem BROADWAY ZOMBIES! Dis de closin' numbuh, now! MOSES! Git yo' brown ass ovuh heah! Leave de Co-log-nuh alone fo' a minnit. Whyn'tcha go on 'n cornhole ya' some EVIL PRINCE! I B'lieve he done evolved to de point where he kin hannle it now!

See dat? Uh-huh! Look like he severely enjoyin' it awready! Sound like he enjoyin' it, too! Wuh- Oh! I smells trubba! Look like he got de eeyah- noosht! Ain't no two ways about it

The MAMMIES dance tangos with the ZOMBIES, (eventually hurling them offstage), the EVIL PRINCE corn-holes RHONDA (who doesn't even notice as she waves her magic-wand fountain pen around for HARRY to follow), THING-FISH snatches up THE CRAB-GRASS BABY and OB'DEWLLA (one in each hand), shaking them like maracas, while twirl-dancing around the yard, HARRY-AS- A-BOY and the ARTIFICIAL RHONDA re-appear, chasing after the infant, QUENTIN ROBERT DE NAMELAND corn-holes BROWN MOSES. OPAL rides the bull while FRANCESCO gives her an enema. The nativity box rotates erratically, deli- vering DUTCH MIDGETS who offer onions to the audience

THING-FISH:
'Fo y'all departs, I jes' wish to say in conclu- sium, as matters o' dis gravity gen'rally re- quire some type o' philosomical post-scription, dat what y'all have witnessed heah tonight were a TRUE STORY - only de names o' de potatoes have been changed to protect de innocent

GALOOT CO-LOG-NUH! DON'T BUY IT, PEOPLES! Dis have been a public service ernouncemint. Wave good-night to de white folks, 'DEWLLA!

A conga-line is formed. They all exit through the audience, except for FRANCESCO, THING-FISH & SISTER OB'DEWLLA 'X' (the CRAB-GRASS BABY has been returned to HARRY-AS-A-BOY and ARTIFICIAL RHONDA)

RHONDA:
This is SYMBOLISM, HARRY!

HARRY:
...not the stuff that 'Freckles' lets out!

RHONDA:
This is SYMBOLISM! Really deep, intense, thought-provoking Broadway SYMBOLISM. Really Modern, HARRY...

HARRY:
Take your hand off that chain, honey!

RHONDA:
Fuck that briefcases...

HARRY:
...not the briefcase...