Act Three Scene Two

 I cried today

I've not cried in a long long long time.



I could go off the deep end,
I can kill all my best friends.



I've been on edge, you know, for a while. You can probably tell. The show's been floundering, I've been losing my lines...

I can follow those stylish trends.
God knows I can make amends. 
And then this

I just

thank you, Schrodinger. Thank you.


But I've got an angry heart filled with cancer and puppy hearts.
If this is how you folks make art, its fucking depressing.


And then the Messenger had the courage to share himself Right at this time. Like he was waiting to strike which even I know is stupid.


And its sad to know that we are not alone and its sad to know there's no honest way out. 


So here, I'll try. I have to at least try.

The world's been like a carnival but not a good carnival like the kind you find in a mall parking lot filled with deathtraps and broken men and ears of corn from the regan era used to make dollar popcorn with the grease from the engines

I remember a young Maurice, not quite so young on stage. He was always the most alive on that stage. It was in high school sometime. Yes, the play was the Hotel Paradiso a comedy of errors from France.

The young Maurice played Mousieur Boniface the man attempting to conduct an extramarital affair with the wife of his best friend and neighbor, Marcelle, played by Rachael. His friend, Henri, is a building inspector sent to check out a hotel for the night. Henri was played by brian. However, all three end up at the same hotel. Boniface and Marcelle attempt to build an ever bigger web of lies in order to keep Henri fooled and Boniface's wife unknowing.

We were born for our roles.

Except the young Maurice should have been Henri.



I'm rambling forgive me.

But the young Maurice glided and sang across the stage and brian was meant to be there they were perfect foils the two of them the best possible counterparts. Maurice owed everything to Brian and Brian owed his success all to Maurice.



But Rachael could only love one, and both had loved her since they were little boys.

I remember the day a younger, much younger Maurice and a similarly aged Brian stared at each other across their tent as they both confessed their love. Brian and Maurice, smiled, touched each others hands, shook

and then they kissed once

it still burns my lips to this day when I'm off guard.