“ACT” I

Setting: A street corner, somewhere in a big city that is crowded enough and unrecognizable enough no one is entirely sure which big city it is, but everyone is sure it is big. On the corner itself stand two PAPERBOYS, each furiously jostling the other for position and screaming loudly at the CROWD walking by. No one is paying them any attention whatsoever, and they don’t seem to mind. There is a bank across the street with a “Closed” sign on its door and the lights off. Nothing else on the street is significant.

PAPERBOY #1

Papers here, get your papers here! Papers here! PAPERS HERE, I say!

PAPERBOY #2

Hey, I was here first.

(A PRIEST walks down the sidewalk and pauses at the sight of the paperboys. He has just become a priest and is excited at the opportunity to exercise his newfound holiness. He tucks his hands into his robes and clears his throat, ready to begin his sermon, which he has rehearsed ten times before the mirror earlier.)

PRIEST

Now, my sons, you must embrace the oneness of the Universe, open your arms to the wonder of the All-Knowing One, become a part of—

PAPERBOY #1 (staring blankly at PRIEST)

Sorry, mister, what was that again?

PRIEST

Oh, forget it. (sighs wearily) Which one of you idiots is cheaper?

(A brief shoving match ensues, in which PAPERBOY #2’s head is stepped on and PAPERBOY #1 is victor, with a price of $0.25 per paper)

PRIEST (purchases paper, opens it, frowns)

Hey, the inside of this is blank! This is nothing but a cover page and the obituaries! (pauses) Wait a minute. I think that’s my mother!

PAPERBOY #1 (sarcastic)

Why don’t you open your arms to the wonder of the All-Knowing One, and it won’t be a problem?

PRIEST

Why, I oughta—

(PRIEST and PAPERBOY #1 chase each other offstage, followed moments later by PAPERBOY #2, once he has dusted the footprints off his scalp)

Enter MARK, stage left, accompanied by SUSAN. She is angry and looks as though she would like to systematically remove his extremities and feed them to a pack of starving werewolves. Luckily, there is no pack of starving werewolves nearby, so it seems MARK is safe. Besides, there would be too many witnesses.

They are in the middle of a conversation.

SUSAN

Look, if you knew that this wasn’t going to work from the beginning, you could have at least told me. You know, said something like, “Oh, Susan, I know things may seem great right now, but in about two weeks, I’m going to be suddenly, devastatingly in love with someone else, and you’re going to be dog shi—”

MARK

Now that’s not true.

SUSAN

What on Earth do you mean, “That’s not true”? You were just telling me how true it was!

MARK

Well, two weeks ago I didn’t know I’d be in love, so how could I have told you? (shrugs aimlessly, as though to say “I had nothing to do with any of this, and why is everyone angry with me?”)

SUSAN

That’s beside the point. I thought everything was going so well. What happened?

MARK (dreamily)

Oh, Susie, Heaven happened. One of its angels just fell from the sky and landed at my feet. (pauses) Actually, she landed in the desk across the aisle fifth period, but she tripped over my foot, so it amounts to the same thing.

SUSAN (altogether disgusted and quite angry)

Just like that, you mean? What was she, another Lucifer? Hey, that’s it. Maybe you’re a secret devil-worshipper, and saying you’re in love is really only another way of saying, “Sorry, Susie, but I have to go fall at Satan’s cloven hooves for awhile. It’s not you, it’s me. No, it’s not me either, it’s Satan. That’s right.”

Enter JANET. She has frizzy blond hair that never does what she tells it. She is currently on her way to school with SUSAN and MARK, and she has a backpack under her left arm which refuses to stay shut and persisently spills her homework assignments into the road. Either she does not notice that her past two weeks’ work is fluttering in the breeze like so many seagulls, or she chooses to ignore it. She is, oddly enough, friends with SUSAN.

JANET (cheerfully)

Hey, Suse.

SUSAN (glares at MARK)

Why don’t you tell her what you’ve just got through telling me?

MARK (waves one hand absently in the air)

Oh, well, you see, Janey, Susan and I’ve just split.

JANET (almost screams, in a very dramatic fashion; she is being facetious)

What?! My God, I never thought I’d see the day!

SUSAN

Oh, stuff it.

MARK

Have you ever met anyone by the name of Claire?

JANET

Claire? No, I can’t say that I—oh, wait, do you mean Claire Anderson?

MARK

Ah, the goddess! Yes, I hardly dare to speak her name, but yes, yes, yes, that is she.

SUSAN

I thought she was the devil. Now she’s a goddess?

JANET (ignores SUSAN)

She moved in down the street about a week and a half ago. Why?

MARK (giddy)

Down the street? Oh, hold me, I think my heart’s just stopped!

SUSAN

Idiot.

JANET

Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that Claire Anderson is the reason you broke up with Susan?

MARK

Ah, Susan and I—Susan and I—er, we were never—

SUSAN

Watch what you say, bucko, or I just might—

MARK

Yes.

JANET

Oh, that’s not good. No, that’s not good at all.

MARK

Claire Anderson is a goddess, an absolute goddess. Why, she’s our school Messiah. If she didn’t have those shoes on all the time, I’d be washing her feet.

JANET

Claire Anderson is far from a goddess.

MARK (livid)

How can you say that? Have you got eyes?

JANET

Have you met her?

MARK (thoughtfully)

Well, when you put it like that—

JANET

Then trust me, you don’t want to.

MARK

You mean you know her?

JANET (sarcastic)

No; in fact, I make a point of never getting acquainted with any of my neighbors. For all I know, the Dawsons upstairs are neo-Nazis. I always thought that cat of theirs acted an awful lot like Hitler.

MARK

Oh! Oh, oh, oh, you can introduce us!

JANET

Okay. Sure.

MARK (even giddier, if that’s possible)

Really?

JANET

Yeah. But the first thing I’ll need is one of those ten-foot poles.

MARK

Ten-foot poles?

JANET

Yeah. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere near her otherwise.

SUSAN (shaking her head)

Oh, come on, you idiots, the bell’s just rung.

MARK, SUSAN, and JANET exit stage right, pushing their way through the CROWD. Down the sidewalk across the street run PAPERBOY #1, PAPERBOY #2, and PRIEST, who is now chasing both of the miscreants, sobbing, and vigorously swearing—simultaneously. The bank still sports a “Closed” sign, but just before the curtains shut a very short figure, dressed all in black with a jester’s hat on its head, slips inside and pulls the door to quietly behind itself. Its face is hidden by a brightly colored scarf.

“ACT” II

Setting: A high school chemistry classroom in midday. There are no windows in the room, and though there are about thirty desks, only fifteen are occupied. JANET and SUSAN are sitting beside each other in the centre. MR. BRADSTREET, who has a toupee and a horrible lisp, stands by the blackboard. He is busy writing down some kind of horribly complex equation involving lots of “p”s and “q”s and exponents, which no one will understand until he has repeated it fifteen times and by then no one will care anyway. Needless to say, not a person in the room is paying attention—well, with the exception of DANIEL, who sits in the very front desk and is busily scribbling down every word that MR. BRADSTREET speaks. It is quite possible he even understands some of what he is copying.

SUSAN (whispers across the aisle)

Janet.

(JANET pays no attention whatsoever. She is filing her nails, which are far too sharp as it is.)

SUSAN

Janet.

(JANET drops her nail file on the floor. She bends down to pick it up. SUSAN kicks her.)

JANET (loudly)

Ow! Hey, what was that for?

MR. BRADSTREET (not moving from his position at the board or turning his eyes away from the equation)

Ladies, please be quiet.

DANIEL (with an equally bad lisp, probably caused by his headgear)

Yeah, shut up!

SUSAN

So you’re actually going to introduce Mark to this—this—Claire?

JANET

I guess. I think we’re going over after school. (pauses) Why not?

SUSAN

Well, you said yourself that you wouldn’t go near her with a ten-foot pole.

JANET

I know, but he likes her, and sure, she’s creepy, and sure, she has that really weird obsession with clowns, and sure, she keeps a gun under her pillow, but—

SUSAN (loudly)

A gun??

MR. BRADSTREET

Ladies, there were no firearms in Chemistry class the last time I checked. Now please pay attention, or I’ll be forced to move you.

DANIEL (turns to SCOTT, who sits beside him and has a terrible acne problem, a gold tooth, and tattoos all over his face, and sniggers)

What freaks.

SUSAN

She has a gun? Are you kidding me? You’re kidding, right? I mean, there’s no way—

JANET

Don’t worry too much about that. She told me she only loads it on Wednesdays.

SUSAN

Oh, right. Well, I have an atomic bomb in my locker, but I only shake the nitroglycerin every other Saturday, so that’s all right then, isn’t it?

JANET

Hey, if you still care about him, then—

SUSAN (defensively)

I never said I cared about him. “A goddess.” If anybody’s a freak, it’s Mark.

JANET

Then there’s no problem. (Pause) Besides, it’s not Wednesday.

SUSAN (very, very loudly)

Not Wednesday? What kind of a thing is that to say?

MR. BRADSTREET (finally turns around, dropping his chalk in the process)

All right, ladies, that’s enough. I’m afraid you’re going to have to—

Bell rings. Students get up as one and run out the door. Someone knocks MR. BRADSTREET’s books off his desk. Someone else accidentally brushes up against the chalkboard and erases the period’s work. Within a few seconds, the entire classroom is empty. The misbegotten chalk has been trod on.

MR. BRADSTREET (sighs, glances miserably down at his chalk)

Oh, never mind.

“ACT” III

Setting: Outside the front of JANET’s very trashy apartment complex. In most circles, this particular complex is called the Montana. In this circle, this particular complex is called by various names, most of which include some form of an exclamation of disgust and several exotic forms of swear words, none of which will be mentioned here on the assumption that readers are possessed with a powerful imagination. The hinges on the door are broken, so the intercom still wired into the wall is really rather worthless because anyone who likes to can simply walk in. The DOORMAN comes every morning and collects his paycheck, then leaves for the rest of the day, so guests must struggle with the makeshift revolving door themselves. JANET lives on the fifth floor, next door to a CAT LADY who is currently about fifteen furry creatures over the legal limit and whose litter box alone produces enough toxic chemicals to fuel the biochemical weaponry for the entire galaxy. JANET, who has suffered from anosmia since the age of six, doesn’t notice. Luckily.

JANET, SUSAN, and MARK are finally about to visit the gun-toting CLAIRE.

JANET

I see you finally decided on the proper clothing for visiting with one of God’s Chosen Ones.

MARK (wearing very baggy black pants, a very large black T-shirt, shoes covered in three different shades of duct tape, and cherry-red sunglasses)

You think this is okay? Or is “proper” a bad thing? Am I too stiff?

SUSAN

You want to know what I think?

JANET (at the same time as MARK)

No!

MARK (at the same time as JANET)

Sure.

SUSAN

I think that if you put one more Green Day pin on that hideous cap of yours, the sheer concentration of metal alone would immediately pull you down to the center of the Earth, where you would explode in a blast of white-hot flame and we wouldn’t have to go through with this at all.

MARK (removes his black welder’s cap, which is covered in various band paraphernalia, and examines it critically)

So too many pins, then?

SUSAN

Oh, not at all. In fact, why don’t you add another? We’ll wait.

JANET

Come on, Suse, we discussed this. Just remember what day it is.

MARK

Hey, don’t tell me you’re scared.

SUSAN

Of course not. I’ve just never seen anyone explode in a ball of fire before. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen an angel with a gun before either. This is a day full of firsts, isn’t it?

MARK

A gun?

JANET

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Come on, let’s go before it gets dark.

MARK

Dark?

SUSAN

Don’t worry, you’ll be safe as long as you don’t cross the street. With those pins on and that black clothes, cars won’t see you until their headlights reflect the glare from the silver, and by then they’ll be too blinded to stop. (pauses) On the other hand, why don’t you cross first?

JANET

Come on, Suse.

(Together, the three of them make their way across the street and up the stairs to the front door of yet another apartment complex. This one is a little less scruffy and a whole lot less ugly. There is an actual DOORMAN standing on duty, and the door shuts properly, which is unusual in itself.)

DOORMAN (lowers very ugly shades, speaks in bizarrely British accent)

Good evening.

JANET (politely)

We’re here to see a Claire Anderson, sir.

DOORMAN (with no accent whatsoever; he was caught off guard)

I’m sorry, there are no Claire Andersons in this building.

JANET

Well, that can’t be. She just moved in a week and a half ago. I met her myself.

DOORMAN (thoughtfully)

A week and a half—ah!

JANET (intelligently)

Ah?

DOORMAN (back to the accent again)

I believe you mean Mr. Alistair’s daughter, ma’am, and as far as I know she does not go by the name Anderson. That must be where the confusion lies.

JANET

So… wait. I mean, she told me her name was Claire Anderson. Now you’re saying it’s not?

DOORMAN

The name of Mr. Alistair’s daughter is Rocelyn. Rocelyn Alistair. She moved in on the fourteenth, which is, at last count, precisely eleven days ago, and she does, indeed, live in this building. I believe she attends Robertson High as well.

JANET (to MARK)

That has to be her. (to DOORMAN) Can we see her, sir?

DOORMAN

Certainly. (pushes open glass door, bows deeply to the waist, giving the impression that he would have tipped his cap if he’d had one) Best wishes.

(SUSAN, MARK, and JANET walk by. SUSAN is last in line. As she is about to enter the building, she turns to the DOORMAN.)

SUSAN

By the way. Want some advice?

DOORMAN (again, no accent at first, but recovers halfway through sentence)

I beg your pardon?

SUSAN

Drop the British accent. It doesn’t make you seem classier. In fact, if it does anything, it makes you look like a full-fledged American idiot.

MARK (from inside the building)

Did you say American Idiot? I love that song!

DOORMAN (no accent)

You really think so?

SUSAN

Yes.

DOORMAN (throws sunglasses to the cement)

Well, in that case—I think I’ll try this new vernacular—er, “my bad.” Have a “cool” afternoon. (pause) That is what “you dudes” say, isn’t it?

(SUSAN shakes her head sadly, ignores the DOORMAN, and continues on into the building.)

“ACT” IV

Setting: CLAIRE/ROCELYN’s apartment. Or, rather, its front door. The hallway is one large, thin, filthy cliché, complete with eerie paintings on the walls, ugly carpeting, and a strange wolf-shaped knocker on the door itself, the former of which—the knocker, not the paintings—probably being completely against building regulations and not real silver in the first place. There are strange sounds coming through the floorboards.

JANET

Well, here we are. This is Claire’s—er, I mean “Rocelyn’s”—apartment. (pauses, takes a step backward) Er, after you.

MARK (glances around nervously)

Is it me, or is the freaky woman with the ugly hair in the painting over there staring at me?

SUSAN (disgustedly)

It’s you. For heaven’s sake, haven’t you ever seen Scooby Doo?

JANET

I still don’t understand why Claire—I mean Rocelyn—would lie to me about her name. Why is it such a big deal?

MARK (sighs)

Rocelyn. Why, Rocelyn is the name of a goddess.

SUSAN

I thought Claire was the name of a goddess.

MARK

No, Claire is the name of the goddess’s alter-ego.

SUSAN

You’re insane.

MARK

And isn’t it glorious?

SUSAN

Well, we can’t stand out here all day. (lifts the part of the knocker that knocks, which happens to be the wolf’s lower jaw, and drops it with a very loud crash) This knocker is so ugly it should be illegal.

MARK

Nothing owned by such a goddess could possibly be—

JANET (urgently)

Hey! Quiet! I hear something!

SUSAN

Probably the police, come to see what made this horrendous racket.

JANET

The police? In this neighborhood? You’re kidding, right?

(Footsteps are heard from inside the apartment. It sounds as though someone is walking very slowly with a cane. A dog barks, somewhat angrily. MARK jumps.)

MARK

Aren’t dogs not allowed in apartment buildings?

JANET

They just moved in. Maybe they didn’t know… or something.

SUSAN (cruelly)

You have to get over that ridiculous fear of dogs someday. What better than a nice missing chunk of skin and a couple dozen stitches to do the trick?

MARK

Oops, guess they’re not coming. Why don’t we just come back later? Say, oh, I don’t know, in about five decades?

(The door opens a crack. It is held to the doorframe by a chain and therefore rendered incapable of opening any further than a crack, so the fact that it only opens a crack is not the fault of the door, which is an inanimate object anyway. Someone speaks.)

UNIDENTIFIED CREEPY PERSON

Who’s there?

UNIDENTIFIED CREEPY DOG

Woof.

JANET

Uh, hi. This is, uh, your neighbor Janet Rodriguez. Is, er, Claire home?

UNIDENTIFIED CREEPY PERSON

Oh, Janet! Hi! Come on in! Are these friends of yours?

JANET

Claire? (recovers) Yeah, this is Susan, and Mark.

CLAIRE/ROCELYN/U.C.P. (removes the chain and opens the door the rest of the way, but the lights in the apartment are off, so it is impossible to really see in)

I didn’t see you at school today. Come on in, have a seat. We’ll have a snack. Or something.

VERY LARGE MALAMUTE

Woof! (pant, pant)

MARK (hysterically)

Oh. Oh, my God. Oh, good Lord. Oh, this is it. This is the end. Goodbye, cruel world. Et tu, Brute?

CLAIRE

(pauses) Is he always like this?

SUSAN

Yes. What’s with the hat?

CLAIRE

Oh, this? (removes very large jester’s hat, which is even uglier than the door-knocker, from her head and dumps it on the VERY LARGE MALAMUTE’s instead; VERY LARGE MALAMUTE doesn’t seem to mind; MARK pales severely; PORTRAIT across the hall glares) It’s just something I like to wear after school sometimes. (pauses) So, anybody want cookies?

VERY LARGE MALAMUTE (steps out into hallway)

Woof?

MARK

Sure, I’d love some Claire, cookies! I mean cookies, Claire!

CLAIRE

Well, come in! What’re you all waiting for?

MARK

Er, I’m afraid you have a fat, furry, fanged, ferocious, and now funny-looking roadblock in your doorway. Maybe you could just—

CLAIRE (speaking in German)

Vince! Erhalten sie zurück!

(VERY LARGE MALAMUTE retreats and disappears into CLAIRE’s apartment again. There is a noise like that of a small mouse falling off a high bookshelf onto its head, and then silence.)

CLAIRE

Better now?

MARK

Much, thanks.

CLAIRE

So you’re a Green Day fan too, I see.

MARK

A fellow music connoisseur? Oh, Lady Luck is with me today!

SUSAN (to JANET)

Oh, please. Wait till he’s looking down the business end of a rifle, and he’ll be singing a different tune.

JANET (to SUSAN)

Actually, I think it’s a handgun she’s got, not a rifle.

SUSAN (loudly)

That’s beside the point!

CLAIRE (coughs politely)

Handgun? Why would I need a handgun when I have Vince?

SUSAN

Oh, no, I don’t think you have a handgun at all. You’re right, you wouldn’t even need one, what with that high-powered dog of yours. Why, I bet he can aim perfectly accurately at a range of three hundred feet, and possibly even pierce bone.

MARK

Bone?

CLAIRE

Vince has never bitten anyone. Are you coming in or not?

JANET

Sure, why not? Thanks, Claire.

(JANET, SUSAN, and MARK follow CLAIRE into her apartment. CLAIRE reaches for a light switch on the left and flicks it. The family room, the room in which they are all standing, seems normal enough. A few tasteful paintings hang on the wall. A clock hangs behind the door, and just as CLAIRE comes in, it sounds; a miniature malamute springs out from its center and chimes the hour. It isnow four o’ clock.)

CLAIRE

They’re in the kitchen; chocolate chip. My mother and I baked them just the other day. If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll go fetch them.

MARK (smiling giddily)

Sure.

(CLAIRE leaves through a smaller door in the far corner of the room. SUSAN turns to MARK. JANET busies herself examining the malamute clock.)

SUSAN

What do you think you’re doing?

MARK

What on Earth do you mean?

SUSAN

She’s insane!

MARK

How can you say such a thing? (removes welder’s cap from his head and waves it through the air in a distraught fashion) She is anything but insane. She is a vision of loveliness, everything sweet, good, and kind in the world, and you, you, you—why, you’re the Devil!

SUSAN

What?

MARK

In comparison, of course.

SUSAN

I mean, just look at her. Her family lives in an apartment building that looks like it came straight out of a Ghostbusters movie; she walks around wearing a jester’s hat for kicks; she has the biggest, most vicious dog I’ve ever seen, which just happens to speak German; and she’s weird!

MARK

First, this apartment did not come out of a Ghostbusters movie. It’s really very tasteful—which certainly isn’t anything you’d know about. Second, everyone is eccentric at times. Third, Vince does not speak German, Vince does not even speak English. And fourth, she is not weird.

JANET (annoyed)

And we’ve been here for (makes a show of checking her watch), oh, about fifteen minutes now.

MARK

And your point is?

SUSAN

You’re so dense.

CLAIRE (walking back into the room carrying a plate piled high with chocolate chip cookies; VINCE at her side, still sporting the jester’s hat)

Here you go.

MARK (takes the topmost cookie and bites into it)

These are superb.

SUSAN

You said the same thing last week when your little sister gave you Purina.

JANET (ignoring SUSAN, taking a cookie of her own)

Thanks. (pauses) So, Claire, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you and your family move from?

CLAIRE

Vince, my parents, and I are from the countryside. We moved down here so my father would have more resources available for his work.

MARK

What does he do?

CLAIRE

Ah—well—I’m afraid I can’t really tell you about that. You see, he doesn’t want anyone knowing about what he’s doing until, well, until he’s done.

SUSAN

So Mr. Alistair is just a bit too busy?

CLAIRE (pales)

What was that?

SUSAN

I said Mr. Alistair. He is your father, isn’t he?

CLAIRE

I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.

VINCE (quite threateningly)

Woof.

MARK (as non-threateningly aspossible)

Agh!

CLAIRE

Am I mistaken, or are you afraid of Vince?

MARK

Of course I’m not afraid of Vince! In fact, I love dogs. Adore them, really. I have five of my own at home.

SARAH

Five, eh?

MARK

Six. (reaches gingerly out to Vince) Here, puppy, puppy, puppy. Here, puppy—

VINCE (recoils and snarls)

Woof!

CLAIRE

He doesn’t like being called “puppy.” (To Vince) Vince, entspannen sie sich.

VINCE (sits meekly)

Woof.

JANET (checks watch again)

Well, I’m sorry, Claire, but I think I’d better be going. It’s four-thirty, and I have a lot of homework to finish. But it was really nice talking to you.

VINCE

Woof!

JANET

And you, too.

CLAIRE

Yeah, I have homework of my own I ought to be getting to. (stands up, reaches a hand out to MARK) It was lovely meeting you. (turns to SARAH) See you all at school tomorrow?

MARK

Sounds wonderful.

JANET

All right, let’s hit the books. Er… (clears throat) Auf Wiedersehen, Vince.

MARK (shocked)

Janey, where did you ever learn to speak German so well?

JANET

Diary of Anne Frank.

SARAH (to CLAIRE)

Don’t ask.

“ACT” V

Setting: JANET’s living room. It is much nicer than CLAIRE’s; it is also much more cluttered. The television set is in one corner, but the screen is buried in what seems to be piles and piles of ancient Good Housekeeping magazines, rendering the poor decrepit piece of equipment unrecognizable. Against the left wall lies a couch with cushions so flat its occupants may as well be sitting on the floor, for all the support they receive; MARK sits perched on the right armrest, scribbling away in a small notebook, minus the welder’s cap, the ugly sunglasses, and the terrible shoes. SUSAN sits beside him on the couch cushion itself. JANET sits beside SUSAN. All three of them are attempting to watch TV, though MARK and SUSAN find it difficult to concentrate thanks to the CAT LADY’s stench.

MARK (not looking up from his notebook)

Janey, how do you stand that woman?

JANET

Can’t smell her, remember?

MARK

Right. There are times when I’m jealous of you, you know.

SARAH (who has a clothespin on her nose, accompanied by a large green gas mask)

Same here.

TELEVISION

“…Good evening, citizens of Everytown, I’m Clint Westwood and this is Channel 47’s Evening News. On tonight’s broadcast we’ll be answering the fascinating question of ‘What, exactly, is in your sausage?’, in addition to ‘What, exactly, is the meaning of life?’ and ‘Will I ever get around to eating that green meatloaf?’ (pauses) And, coming up in five minutes, the story of this afternoon’s bank robbery.”

SARAH

Bank robbery?

JANET (simultaneously)

Bank robbery?

MARK

What am I, deaf?

TELEVISION

“Ah, who can wait five minutes? This is Clint Westwood again, here to discuss what is now the hottest topic in town; the motives of a clown.”

SARAH

Clown?

JANET (simultaneously)

Clown?

MARK

Oh, give it a rest already.

TELEVISION

“At approximately six-thirty this morning, right before first period at the nearby Robertson High, the Forty-second Street Bank was robbed by a clown. Police say that the jester-bedecked figure walked away with a sum of over thirty thousand dollars tucked into its floppy shoes, without leaving a single trace of its presence. Security cameras show no footage of the perpetrator; it seems that their view was obscured by a large, pointed clown’s hat. Updates will be given as they arrive. (pause) And with that, back to you, Althea Thunderwind, with the weather.”

SARAH

Oh. Oh, my God.

JANET

What?

SARAH (incredulous)

Did you hear that?

MARK

No, but I’m sure the two of you will have no problem repeating it for me.

SARAH

Someone robbed the bank. Wearing a jester’s hat.

MARK

Uh-huh, and I’m sure this discussion will reach its point eventually.

JANET

Oh. Oh, my God.

MARK

Did I just experience major déjà vu, or have we had this conversation already?

JANET

Mark. It was Claire! Claire robbed the bank!

MARK

And Vince is a college professor in his spare time.

JANET

Look, it all fits. She’s new to the neighborhood; she lied about her name, she evaded the subject of her father, she loves wearing that stupid jester’s hat, she has a gun, she—

MARK (shocked)

What did you say?

JANET

Uh, she loves wearing that stupid jester’s hat—

MARK

No, after that.

JANET

She has a gun?

MARK

She has a gun?

SUSAN

Haven’t we already established this?

MARK

It can’t have been her.

SUSAN

Oh? And why not?

MARK

I refuse to believe she’d do such a thing.

SUSAN

Really.

MARK

She’s far too sweet!

JANET

Sweet?

MARK

I don’t care if she has a gun. I don’t care about that vicious man-eating monster of hers she likes to call a dog. I don’t care if you or the rest of the world think she’s strange. I don’t think she did it.

SUSAN

How can you be sure of that? You have to admit the circumstances all point to her.

MARK

Because she’s—

SUSAN

A goddess, I know.

MARK

Well, actually, I was going to say an angel, but that works too.