HOMAGE TO NOEL COWARD
July 19, 2009
The Golden Hummingbird
(Three pensive people in evening dress stand on a terrace. Through the doors behind them the low hum of a party and the fanciful musings of a piano can barely be discerned.)
Lars: The night stretches out before us.
Priscilla (sighing): Like a surgical glove without fingers.
Alvin: Truth is laike that sometimes.
Lars: Fictional, you mean?
Alvin: Lambent, Lars old chum, lambent.
Priscilla (sighing): Why tonight of all nights? Alvin, Lars, why don’t we just fling ourselves away? Madly! Wildly!
Lars: We mustn’t.
Alvin: It wouldn’t be right.
Priscilla (sighing): I suppose. At least THEY’RE happy.
Lars: Of course. They’ve got the bird.
Alvin (wistful): The golden hummingbird.
Priscilla (sighing): Darn.
Curtain
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