The Lonely Widow

STEVE: (to audience) My honey-baked sweets and gristle, I regret to inform you that our previously scheduled guest failed to fill out several wholly unnecessary forms of admittedly little importance. As a result, they’ve been dipped in a vat of spit and shot in a very unflattering light. But because I’m making all of this up as I go, we now return to “The Lonely Widow,” already in progress.


WOMAN sits in a chair. Alone. So very and utterly alone.

WOMAN: (heavy, heart-breaking sigh) My children are all dead, too.

An uncomfortable silence. Then…


A. FICTIONAL CHARACTER interviews Steve, but very much would rather be doing anything else.

A.F. CHARACTER: (to audience) I’m A. Fictional Character, and welcome back to “Something Resembling an Interview.” What we all suffered through just now was “The Lonely Widow,” the latest bit of tripe crapped out by our guest tonight, a blithering idiot. (to Steve) May I call you a blithering idiot?

STEVE: I’d rather you didn’t.

A.F. CHARACTER: Right. Well. You stupid, stupid man, what compelled you to slap us all in the collective face with this monstrosity of whatever it is you think you’re doing?

STEVE: Brain damage, mostly.

A.F. CHARACTER: How awful.

STEVE: You’re telling me! Imagine all the other flaccid, festering bits of flaccid, festering bits that I haven’t defecated in a public sense.

A.F. CHARACTER: Have you written much else?

STEVE: No, no. But imagine if I had.

A.F. CHARACTER: I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.

STEVE: I don’t blame you in the slightest.

A.F. CHARACTER: You mentioned earlier that you were making all of this up as you go. Do you often care so little for your chosen craft?

STEVE: (considers this) Yes.

A.F. CHARACTER: That must make your job very difficult.

STEVE: A bit.


STEVE: Well. It’s certainly a lot easier when you just make things up.