An announcer. A poet. The poet nods to the announcer, and he begins.
The announcer and the poet.
ANNOUNCER(sadly): The ugly boy was unable to love, alas!
The poet alone.
POET: "Sinking into the brick
for his daily destruction..."
ANNOUNCER: ladies and gentlemen, the innocent victim... IS LOVING IT! (triumphantly)
(to the public, laughing) I mean the smell of the enemy blowing behind him.
POET: "he suddenly fell into a bigger trap.
No antidotes, no solutions,
Not even a breath of wind to distract..."
A boy, sitting in the last row, raised his left hand.
GUY: and then? How did it end?
ANNOUNCER(looking to the poet) : Can he?
POET: Oh yes, of course he can. I will end my poem.
(he took the sheet and continued his reading)
"She was the red - dressed killer
And he wanted to die.
AND HE DID. "