Bert    Leave my dope out o’ this.

Raymond    That’s what I’m saying. I’m saying I’ll leave your dope out of this. You’ve no proof, you’ve nothing to suggest –

Offstage, raised voices coming from the corridor.

Raymond    You’ve no proof I’ve ever set foot in Wichita, you, you and this mythical Muzzy – this mythical Bearded Lady, I mean, a Bearded Lady for heaven’s sake!

Raymond is distracted by noises coming from outside.

Bert (quietly to himself)     They ain’t mythical, they’re unmythical, they’re shittin n’ pissin unmythical witnesses and they got proof you stuck your dick in his little asshole –

Bert spots something on the floor; he follows a trail to Charles’s drawer. Raymond watches him.

Raymond    What on earth are you doing now? You really are in a terrible mess, Kowalski!

Bert    Look, look here. Shit looks like blood or something.

Raymond (following the trail)      Blood?

Bert    Sure looks like blood or shit or something.

Raymond    Make your mind up for heaven’s sake.

Bert    OK, blood, it’s fucken – looks like blood.

Raymond    It could be, ah, you know . . .

Bert    No, I don’t know –

Raymond    Women’s problems. You know, down below. She could be menstru—

Bert    She don’t strike me the kind o’ broad that’d just bleed all over some hotel.

There are more noises outside in the corridor. Raised voices, doors slamming.

Raymond    What – what’s all that noise?

Bert    Noise? What noise?

Raymond    Out – in the corridor, the noise out in the corridor.

Bert    How’d I know? You think I’m psychic, uh?

Raymond     Listen!

Bert    You think I can see through walls or something? I’m no psychic.

Raymond    I know what it means, Kowalski. I know what psychic means and it doesn’t mean you can see through walls.

Bert    I ain’t saying I can. I ain’t no psychic: like I give a shit about the noise out there and seeing through some fucken piece o’ shit wall.

Raymond    No, sick, not psychic: sick. You’re sick, Kowalski.

Bert (walking away)     There’s only one sicko in here and it ain’t me.

Bert, the bottle in his hand, moves to the door and looks out. He goes out and closes the door behind him. He flies back in through the door, falling on his backside, managing to keep the bottle upright.

Voice (off): You just stay in there, shorty!

Bert gets up and bangs on the door. It’s locked.

Bert    COCKSUCKER! You lousy fucken . . . (Turns to Raymond.) They’ve locked us in!

Raymond    What? You’re insane, they can’t . . .

He moves across to the door and tries it. It is locked. He bangs on it.

Please open this door. This door should not be locked from the outside. There are fire regulations posted on the wall of every corridor that clearly state this.

Bert springs forward in panic and starts pounding the door.