ROSCOE’S VOICE: (Calling from off right.) Sally! Oh, Sally! You didn’t go back to sleep, did you, because I’ve got something for you! Big gooey surprise!

(SALLY rolls over, facing audience.)

SALLY: What could that be?

ROSCOE’S VOICE: Jelly do-nuts!

SALLY: (Sitting up in bed.) Jelly do-nuts?

ROSCOE’S VOICE: Deep-fried!

SALLY: What flavor?

ROSCOE’S VOICE: Raspberry. Mango.

SALLY: Mango? In a do-nut?

ROSCOE’S VOICE: “California Exotic,” they call it. Golden! Oozing!

SALLY: They must inject it or something. How do they get mango in there?

(ROSCOE enters from down right, heading toward table, a coffee cup in each hand and a white bakery bag containing do-nuts dangling between his teeth. He crosses slowly to table, careful not to spill coffee; sets cups down and then bag of do-nuts. Sally watches closely from bed.)

You would’ve made a great husband. Maybe.

ROSCOE: Ooops! Forgot the half-and-half.

(ROSCOE turns and darts back off right. SALLY leaps out of bed, goes to table, and peeks into bag, sniffing do-nuts, then crumples it back up again. She sits in stage left chair again, picks up coffee and slurps it. ROSCOE reenters from down right with half-and-half, plates, and napkins, talking as he enters.)

I myself am a huge fan of the jelly do-nut. Going way back to my junkie days. Avenue D, Fourteenth Street, Dunkin’ Donuts, cops, transvestite fistfights, hookers, and faggots—the strung out and hopeless.

SALLY: What a list.

(ROSCOE sits at table, puts do-nuts on plates, distributes napkins, etc., while SALLY slurps coffee and listens.)

ROSCOE: Everyone had an appetite for the juicy jelly do-nut. It was a religion.

SALLY: It gave them hope.

ROSCOE: It did.

SALLY: They began to believe in themselves.

ROSCOE: Renewed faith.

(Pause.)

SALLY: You were a junkie?

ROSCOE: Weren’t we all?

SALLY: Well—it’s hard to picture.

ROSCOE: Sixties—you know.

SALLY: I wasn’t born until ’82.

ROSCOE: Poor you.

SALLY: Why? What’d I miss?

ROSCOE: All the assassinations. (About do-nuts.) I think I’ll cut these in half. They’re huge.

SALLY: Busy, busy, busy.

(ROSCOE gets up and exits—again stage right. SALLY immediately picks up a do-nut, smells it, then licks a gob of the filling off it. When ROSCOE reenters with a butter knife she quickly puts do-nut back on plate. ROSCOE sits and starts cutting do-nuts in half.)

Don’t you think I should be taping this? Seems like an opportunity.

ROSCOE: (Cutting do-nuts.) What?

SALLY: All this—activity. This—spontaneous life. For the documentary.

ROSCOE: I hate documentaries.

SALLY: No, I mean—the film—what we’ve been working on—whatever you want to call it.

ROSCOE: Pretending to be real life.

SALLY: There’s no pretending.

ROSCOE: Suit yourself.