BECKY: Nothing, Hoss. Nothin. Meera got his head took off. Right now, it’s on display in Anaheim. Little glass case. I hear they’re even scalpin tickets for it.

HOSS: Vanished. Took my secret with him. Easy to vanish.

BECKY: Yeah. Hard part is staying right here.

(BECKY exits. HOSS alone. He begins to move around the space and talk to an imaginary Gypsy rival. He picks up some of the “weapons” from opening and tests them out.)

HOSS: (to himself and Gypsy image) Choogin. Choogin, now. Secret’s a secret. Unknown to me. Unknown to you. I’m your mystery. Figure me. Same. Figure me. Run me down to your experience. Chase this. An inch. Inch’ll leave you fatal. Just an inch. Same. Mis-shift’ll leave you murdered. Ha! Not that one, Shuga Man. Not that lunge. Shake this! (He stops short, freezes. Pause, he listens, nothing.) Vanished. No voice. No word. Gone. Just—gone. The Game. Keepers. Rock and Roll. Gone. All gone.

(DOC enters with dope. BECKY behind.)

DOC: You need a load, Hoss?

HOSS: (in a daze) Meera had his head took off. You hear that, Doc? His whole head.

DOC: Yeah. Well, might not a been too far from his natural state.

HOSS: Sometimes a snake’ll go on living a little while like that. Broke in half. Two halves. Both still twitchin. I remember seeing my Daddy break a snake in half like that. Both ends twitchin.

BECKY: Hoss, you need something. You need to loosen down. A little prep-time. That Gypsy’s bookin our way. You gotta wrap up & git fit, here.

HOSS: Need something. That’s always been the case.

BECKY: Let Doc gaff you a little skin pop. Just to take the edge off.

(HOSS rolls his sleeve up and DOC sets about shooting him up as HOSS continues to ramble.)

HOSS: Broke clean in half. You’re a doctor. How long can something live like that? Broke clean in half.

DOC: (preparing syringe) Depends. Snake’s a different critter. Seen chickens run around half a day with no head. Just spitting blood out their necks and runnin in blind circles.

HOSS: Half a day.

BECKY: Meera never knew what hit him.

DOC: Turkeys. Ducks.

HOSS: Poultry must be tough.

DOC: Or stupid. One.

HOSS: How ’bout Gypsies?

(DOC finds spot on HOSS’s neck and matter-of-factly injects him there.)

DOC: Never met one. Least not in this era.

HOSS: They had ’em in the Open Days?