Stuff Not To Watch When You're Single, No. 5; WASP, a play by Steven Martin

Steve Martin, eh? That funny old man! But no, in fact - a good friend of mine has been pointing me in the direction of his writing, and some of it is brilliance. I've picked out one particular scene which touched me. Very hard, in the heart, using a fucking sharp stick. As my ex once scrawled on her wall after we broke up; ain't nothing like regret, to make you feel alive. It took a year before I understood.

MOM: So how did you get to be omniscient?

FEMALE VOICE: I went to class.

MOM: They have a class? What do you study?

FEMALE VOICE: Every teeny-weeny little thing. We memorize it. Every little rock, every blade of grass. Everything about people, about men, about cats, every type of gravy, every possibility, every potentiality, ducks. It's one class where et cetera really means "et cetera."

MOM: That must be hard.

FEMALE VOICE: It is one son of a bitch. You know what one of the questions on the final was?

MOM: What?

FEMALE VOICE: Name everything.

MOM: Wow.

FEMALE VOICE: When I read that question, my mind went blank. Which is a terrible thing when you're asked to name everything.

MOM: What happened?

FEMALE VOICE: Oh, you know, you get through it; I got an eighty-four. Eighty and above is omniscient. Well, I better be going . . . prom night pimple in Cleveland . . .

MOM: (stops her, concerned): So you know everything.

FEMALE VOICE: Somewhat.

MOM: So . . . what would it be like if I left him?

FEMALE VOICE: You won't believe this, but that was one of the questions on the final. Let's see . . . you will live in a small cottage. It will be surrounded by a white fence. In the backyard will be many colored flowers. Inside will be small lace doilies like your mother's. You will stand outside on the green lawn, your face up toward the sun; your hands will be outstretched, palms open; and you will speak these words: "What have I done, what have I done, what have I done."

(Slow blackout.)