White Glove

[The morning sun is streaming into his eyes. He leaves the cave and sits down on the edge of a cliff, a huge bird circling above him.]

[Simon, looking out over the plains where Community City stands:]

A world has changed

Though the names are all the same

Once, thought I knew them all

And oh, what a shame

The world has changed

People I remember are just ripples on the pool

No sound from the square

Only time is dwelling there

So easy the lesson was and oh, how I tried

Time rolls by

People become shadows at the bottom of the sea

The harder they come, the harder they fall

I stand by the crossroad,

Counting the seconds going by

The higher they fly the louder they cry

Chased by the fox, I stand by the docks

The clock ticks and tocks

[The Murderer, presenting a hammer.]

This, old fool, is the way to waste a tool:

Hold it in steady hands, bang on the wall

Hard, that's all

People, passing strangers

Are like dust on desert sand

[Simon, not listening:]

The harder they come the harder they fall

I stand by the counter

Checking my bags for drugs and tags

The higher they fly the louder they cry

I stand by the door, just as before, oh what a bore

[Simon sits for a long time, brooding on dark thoughts. But then a ray of sun warms his face and a cry of the eagle above him caresses the air. An almost triumphant sense of relief and joy fills him and with light steps he walks away from the cliff and on to the high plateau. He passes a house, surrounded by a garden labyrinth. Fog falls and he looses his way. As the mist clears, he is standing beside a park bench next to a chopped down tree. Simon sits down, lulled almost to sleep by the peace and quiet of this place, where time seems to have no importance. Then a movement catches his eye.]

[Simon:]

A white glove lies at the fallen tree

The Scarecrow stops and smiles

He picks it up and tries it on for size

Inside the labyrinth he hides and wanders for a while

The bullet hits him right between the eyes

[The Murderer gracefully rises from his hiding place in the hedge. The apparition hovers in slow motion towards the victim. Swarms of butterflies flutter in circles around him.]

[Simon:]

The last grain in the hourglass falls gently to the floor

The murderer carefully picks his nose and sighs

With one hand covered and one hand cold

He bows and says goodbye

In his trade never hurts to be nice

[The enchantment breaks. Simon cries out and reveals himself to the Murderer, who flees. The chase leads up the hills. Running through a mountain village, the Murderer eludes Simon, who stops, panting for breath in the midst of a religious ceremony. As the dervishes dance, Simon discovers The Murderer in the crowd and the chase goes on, down a tunnel into a hall, lit by red light from a huge pyre in the center. The corpse of the Scarecrow is placed on the fire and they both halt.]

[Simon throws himself on his opponent and they wrestle. Suddenly, as Simon feels his strength fade swarms of butterflies come to his aid. The murderer is lifted in the air and Simon follows the fluttering figures towards the light. But as he emerge into the daylight the Murderer is unveiled by the butterflies - and Simon stares into his own face. Nauseated he flees, now hunted by the Murderer, reaching out with his gloved hand. As Simon is caught by the shoulder, he is spun round and he prepares himself to die. But instead his opponent embraces him, letting his mind flow into Simon's, sharing his entire being. Simon finally understands. His journey is over. All is completed. Only one thing remains. Happily, they walk together, back to Community City and the Cathedral Court.]

[The judge, while waving a hammer in front of Simon:]

Suffer now, you pretty individual

And say you've got the whole world in your hands

Indulge yourself with boredom and depression

And call yourself the master of the land

[The prosecutor, putting on ballet shoes:]

You should have listened

To your mother's warning call

You should have stayed

Inside your daddy's glowing balls

[The murderer:]

So here I am, your honour, here I am your grace

Ready for my sentence

[Simon, not noticing he is wearing the white glove:]

I spit into ...

[The Scarecrow, banging the judge's club hard against the table:]

Your cynic world has turned itself upon you

No wonder that you never learned to love

Pathetic little creature without pity

Your time is up so hand me back my glove

[The hedge hog jury:]

World is turning round and round

Creation spinning faster

Beggars walk the streets

While you try to find your master

Locked inside your mind

Is the drama you invented

Turning you to dust and dreams,

Dying and demented, decadent, depraved

And bereft of all your pride

You hide your head in sand, unable to decide

Which way the wind will blow

If you think about tomorrow

Dreams will chase away the sun

Silent spring of sorrow

[The prosecutor, dancing on the table:]

You should have listened

To your mother's warning call

[The hedge hog jury:]

Aaaaaaaooooh!

[The prosecutor:]

You should have stayed

Inside your daddy's glowing balls

[The hedge hog jury:]

Ooooooooaaaaah!

[The judge, drooling:]

So there you are, amigo, at the last step of your race

And as becomes a desperado you spit into my face

So there you are, you heathen

Blasphemy and hate is nothing to believe in

The hours getting

[Simon, finding himself back in the bathroom, removing the razor blade he holds pressed against his throat:]

Here, naked I stand

The remnants of what once was called a man

When God points out the door

Will I walk across the floor?

Should I go? Continue the show?