Dawn Debris

I doubted his story immediately. How could someone steal an idea from someone who looked like he'd never even had one. But that's exactly what he claimed had happened.

"I was on my way to FedCorTron. I had an interview all set up with the Old Exec himself, you know, the man who started it all...

...I was in my car, driving, and suddenly it was gone. My idea was gone! "

"You mean you forgot"

"No! No! Not forgotten! Stolen! Somebody stole my idea!"

He had heard of me through my reputation. I was on a talk show once .

(KID FINDS HERO IN DEBRIS

Chatanooga,Tenn.

Three-year old Sammy Delinqua thought he had lost his precious teddy bear forever when fourteen-year old babysitter Sheena Ramone accidentally left it by the garbage cans, where it was subsequently hauled away by the ever competent Sunset Scavengers. His parents, twenty-six year old factory worker Jamie Delinqua and his wife, twenty-three year old Marsha, a becoming blonde with shapely breasts, attempted to console the child with replacement bears, but the boy's behavior became increasingly aberrant and reckless. Unable to tolerate the squalling brat any further, the desperate parents turned to a self-styled private investigator, twenty-nine year old Dawn Debris, a nondescript brunette with scarcely any chest to speak of, who nevertheless has a reputation for recovering lost or stolen articles of dubious or negligible value. Through methods unknown to anyone, including herself, no doubt, Debris was able to locate the missing bear, or at least a facsimile thereof, convincing enough to placate the annoying child. Debris accepted no payment or reward for this effort, except for an invitation to a talk show, which certainly served to enhance her small but amazingly loyal fan base)

"You're the finder of things. Get my idea back!"

Needless to say, I was intrigued. I had found many things before, but never something so insubstantial, so intangible, so obviously nonexistent!

There was the case of the accidentally discarded teddy bear.

And the lost necktie.

Not to mention the case of the missing fibula .

(Why wait any longer? get your copy of "Fissure Monroe" today! brought to you by Pigeon Weather Productions. not available in bookstores or newsstands anywhere)

This was entirely different.

"I'll take the case! ...

But first I need to know what it was"
"I don't know anymore!"

"Oh, then maybe you can me where you were, exactly, when you first noticed it was missing."

"I was on I-95 near Baltimore, just south of the Harbor Tunnel. I was driving down from Philadelphia. I only stopped once, at the Maryland House, for an all-you-can-eat breakfast at the Bob's Big Boy there."

"Then that's where I'll begin."

The all-you-can-eat breakfast was tasty, and a bargain to boot. The curious thing was that the waiter had to bring drinks. Evidently it wasn't an all-you-can-drink kind of thing.

Morris had told me that the waiter and the cashier were the only people he'd had contact with that day.

I showed a picture around , but no one remembered him. Why should they?

So I gave up and went home. This was a stupid case anyway. A stolen idea. Who'd ever heard of such a thing?

Well, my friend Jack had, and he wasn't laughing. " Maybe they extracted it", he said.

"Like with a needle to the skull? "

"No. With gene therapy. Where have you been?"

I told him he had better explain what he meant. I had been in Philadelphia.

"The science isn't perfect, but they have come a long way. They've identified thousands of genes responsible for this and that, and it's become quite specific. Everyday another gene is isolated and explained.

"Sure, like for disabilities and diseases."

"Not just that, but also the opposite. Genes for health and abilities as well."

"So what's that got to do with anything?"

"They can put them in you and they can take them out.

"Yeah, but you're talking labs and hospitals, not roadside restaurants."

"Come on, Dawn, you've been around. You know how it goes."

I was going to have to look into the matter further. If what Jack said was true, there must be an insidious black market dealing in desirable and undesirable qualities.

(A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain qualities are more desirable than others. Here are the results of our poll.

beauty 96.2
grace 93.6
style 89.4
charm 89.2
brains 84.9
talent 78.6
patience 66.8
compassion 66.6
duplicity 7.9
hypocrisy 3.2

the margin of error is +- 0.0006
(we're that good!))

Reputed mafia kingpins would be involved. The potential for profit was enormous!

Imagine wanting blue eyes. Tinted lenses are one thing, but actually having blue eyes would be better. Could you actually get injected with the genes for blue eyes?

"Exactly! And not only that, the new gene would be enhanced to override the old one. But you're thinking small potatoes."

Suddenly I understood!

There would be secret laboratories, organized crime, federal laws to be ignored, rich people knowing who to know, hush-hush deals, fancy dress parties, fashion statements in the making!

'My god, this is terrible!'

"Welcome to the future."

It wouldn't stop with blue eyes. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

They would find the gene that produces wrinkles, and extract it.

The gene for curly hair.

The gene for perfect teeth.

But I was being superficial. If all of this were true, you could make yourself whatever you wanted to be, inside and out.

We could all realize our lifelong fantasies! The madness must be stopped!

(A Dissenting Opinion

by Ferdinand Jerome, "so-called expert".

I disagree with the foregoing statement, that 'the madness must be stopped'.
Why, indeed, should it be?
What could possibly be wrong with everyone realizing their lifelong fantasies?
I, for one, have long dreamt of losing this bit of paunch I have around the belly.
I've tried everything, from diets to liposuction to rubbing vaginal cream on my anterior.
Why not a little DNA insertion, if that would do the trick?

I feel it would be terribly selfish of Miss Debris to deprive me of this opportunity.
If you agree, dial 1-900-YES-MA'AM.
If you disagree, dial 1-900-NO-SIREE.
Local toll charges apply )

And I, Dawn Debris, finder of things, would be the one to stop it.

But not right then. I felt like singing.

'Fly me to the moon' I sang, and accompanied myself on the electronic keyboard.

The piano sound wasn't very convincing, but I didn't feel like trying to program the damn thing.

- I should be recording this. -

- Wait a minute, I don't sing, and I don't know how to play the piano. I'm Dawn Debris. What the hell is going on? -

I realized that I'd been altered. I'd been poisoned with talent!

My mind went back to the Bob's Big Boy in Baltimore.

- It must have been the juice! -

If that was true, then a vast conspiracy was unfolding around me.

(What's all this crap about conspiracies?

by Frankie Johnson

And what the hell is happening to the people of this country that they insist on seeing a conspiracy in every little thing that happens? It's gotten to the point that even if one of these theories turned out to be true, I wouldn't believe it anyway. This is what it all boils down to: UFO's killed the Kennedy's because Marilyn slept with Castro even though he was a homosexual who was blackmailing Khrushchev, who, by the way, was an extraterrestrial agent from a renegade planet which had been secretly bombed by the CIA operating out of a secret nuclear waste dump in Waco, Texas. So there. )

They'd gotten to Morris, stolen his idea, then followed him to me. Then they followed me and drugged my drink with genes.

Must've been a hell of an idea he had.

but nobody messes with Dawn Debris! -

I was intent on revenge, but then I decided to try my hand at watercolors.

Soon I had a lovely landscape, with trees,grass,rocks etc...

It was like the coast of California , only different.

- I oughta get myself an agent!-

All I ever wanted to do since childhood was to fight crime and protect the weak and innocent. Well, I couldn't do that, but at least I could find missing things and serve the public that way.

But none of that seemed important anymore.

-Let them find their own damn things! -

I was busy exploring my inner nature.

Okay, maybe it wasn't my own inner nature.

Okay, so it had been insinuated into me through a glass of juice.

Anyway, I was discovering things about myself I never knew before, because they'd never been in me before.

I was going to museums and actually appreciating the art!

I was listening to modern jazz, and enjoying it!

I watched the evening news with interest!

(NOW MORE THAN EVER

NEWS YOU CAN USE

FROM THE TEAM YOU CAN TRUST

WE'RE THERE WHEN YOU NEED US MOST

WHICH IS NOW MORE THAN EVER

stay tuned for more news from THE news leader ... )

My friends were worried about me.

I was boring them with talk about the transitory nature of experience.

My girlfriend, Ruby, was especially upset.

(Ruby Replies

I wasn't that upset, really. I was getting kind of bored with the old Dawn, and this was something new. Imagine actually having a new conversation with your lover after eleven years of cohabitation! Imagine all of a sudden not knowing exactly what she'll say under any given condition. Imagine a different reaction to the same old stimulus. Imagine having sex with someone else and it's not cheating because it's still her, sort of. So I wasn't especially upset. But since Dawn likes to think she's the tough one, I let her think I was. )

"What happened to the Dawn Debris I know and love?"

My cousin Larry had even less patience than usual.

(Larry Says

As usual, Dawn is exaggerating. I have a lot of patience, at least more than she does. Remember that time the waiter took twenty minutes to bring the water? Who was screaming and yelling, huh? Who got us thrown out of the restaurant? And the time we got stuck in traffic on the beltway? Who threw the tire iron at the beamer? Not me. )

"You need help!"

Of course it was Jack who took action.

"I'm taking you to a specialist!"

Larry and Ruby had to hold me down all the way to the hospital.

The specialist declared it was impossible for someone to be turned into an effete bohemian dilettante through genetic transfusion.

(PERSISTENCE OF DISORDER IN CRYOMATIC PATIENTS

Journal of American Cryomatosis, June 2016

In clinical trials occurring over a period of eleven years, it was determined that cryomatosis tends to persist in those patients in whom the disease lasts longer than in others. )

"Stop wasting my time!"

Every doctor they dragged me to said the same thing.

(PERSISTENCE OF DISORDER IN CRYOMATIC PATIENTS

Journal of American Cryomatosis, June 2016

In clinical trials occurring over a period of eleven years, it was determined that cryomatosis tends to persist in those patients in whom the disease lasts longer than in others. )

Finally Jack had enough.

"No more so-called experts! Now let's get down to business!"

They took me to the secret laboratory of Dr. Hideo Tarantula.

He scraped samples from various parts of my body.

While I waited, strapped down in a dentist's chair, he studied my scraps under a microscope.

(My husband is a dentist.
That's why I would never trust my teeth
to anyone but FedCorTron
Makers of an assortment of fine products. )

Occasionally he shook his head and grunted like a pig.

Ruby held my hand and tried to keep from crying.

(Ruby Replies

Actually, I was trying to pry her off me. There was an issue of Highlights in the waiting room that I wanted to read, but she wouldn't let go. )

As for myself, I was pondering the rites of consecration, and their relation to tribal dance forms.

Finally the doctor reach a conclusion.

"I'm afraid the news is bad!"

Ruby couldn't contain herself any longer.

"What is it ,doctor? What the hell is going on?"

(Ruby Replies

I wasn't really paying attention, to tell you the truth. That's why I asked what the hell was going on. )

"I'm afraid her genetic code is being overwritten at an alarming rate. It seems that not only traits, but an entire personality has been insinuated into her system."

"But who is it?"

"There's no way to know."

"What about the real Dawn? How can we get her back?"

"I'm not sure it's possible."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Well, the best hope is Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapy"

(COUNTER_ADAPTIVE REPLACEMENT THERAPY

Journal of American Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapy, September 2028

A survey of American Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapists reveal that a significant majority favor the use of Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapy. )

"In other words, we locate someone similar to the old Dawn, and overwrite the overwritten genes with those. But you must tell me what she was like before."

My friends proceeded to describe the me that no longer was.

Apparently, I was rude, crude, ignorant and ill-mannered.

All I cared about was finding lost things and pocketing the fee.

I had no use for culture of any kind.

I preferred anything superficial to anything of substance.

I was a bloodhound, a single-minded private eye with a taste for the street and a nose for the criminal underground.

The doctor was pleased.

"I have just the thing. I just happen to have here the personality blueprint of one Inspector Slaymaker, formerly of the Newark police, now in a coma in Secaucus."

My friends rejoiced, and before I could escape they were pouring more O.J. down my throat.

The next few days were a blur.

I lay on the couch, exhausted, as Slaymaker's traits did battle with those of the snob, which were still kicking my own around.

One minute I hankered for a violin to pluck.

The next I craved a shotgun to blow away my TV set.

I would draw a sketch, then set it on fire with my lighter.

I tried to listen to the opera on the radio, but then I'd fiddle with the dial, trying to find the police scanner frequency.

I sipped wine. I swallowed six-packs. I threw up frequently.

I couldn't eat, because I didn't like anything I wanted, or want anything I liked.

Dr. Tarantula took notes at a furious pace, while Jack and Larry played poker in the corner.

(The Notes of Dr. Hideo Tarantula

What are these people doing in my lab? I told them to get out of here it seems like days ago they're driving me nuts i mean how much poker can you play how many hoagies can you munch just what the hell do i have to do to get these morons out of my house? i gave her the damn shot so why don't they leave? like i really care how all of this turns out. i take mastercard, what else do i need? )

Gradually I realized what I had to do to get out of there.

I managed to inhale some hoagies, and belch.

I asked Jack for a shortwave, so I could nap to the soothing sounds of emergency dispatches.

(911 Transcript 5784398723872

Dispatcher: what?
Caller: Hello? Hello?
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: Is anybody there? Can you hear me?
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: Somebody please answer, it's an emergency.
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: Hello?
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: I've been shot!
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: I'm bleeding to death. Is anybody there?
Dispatcher: what?
Caller: aaaah ....
Dispatcher: what?
Dispatcher2: what was that?
Dispatcher: wrong number, I guess.
Dispatcher2: what? )

I kept my mouth shut.

By morning, I had convinced them I was better.

Slaymaker made me buy a trench coat and a fat cigar.

On the street, I was aware of every nuance...

... a 501 in progress ...

... a 411 going bad ...

... a 666 heading south on Main.

I felt my veins turn to ice as I thought of all the slime I'd put away over the years.

I reached for my piece, but all I found was a ticket to the Grovzny Ballet.

- Wait a minute. I can't go like this. I'll have to go home and change. -

The bus ride took forever

Finally home, I headed straight for the bathroom.

But then I saw myself in the mirror.

"Who the hell is that?"

I didn't recognize myself at all!

Of course, I knew who I was. I was Dawn Debris, inspector of things, formerly from Secaucus, now in a coma, listening to angels singing 'Fly Me To The Moon'.

And I could remember my life, or sort of.

For example, my 6th birthday, though of course at the time I was 34, and hadn't even been born yet.

The time I brought down Sonny the Snake. I must have been 2.

The first time I had sex.

Well, the three times I first had sex.

(SEX CLAIMS EXPOSED

Chatanooga,Tenn.

A series of recent revelations have revealed that seventeen-year old Anna Kingsley of Milltown, a redhead with still under-developed but promising boobs, recently had sex for the first time. So-called experts familiar with such claims have claimed that such claims are not altogether unheard of. One of these over-exposed pundits, thirty-six year old Ferdinand Jerome, pointed out the case of Swami Lotu Boptu, the holy hermaphrodite who was said to have deflowered himself in a fit of remarkable dexterity. Another, forty-three year old Miss Joanna Johnsberry, a fairly obese strawberry blonde with an incalculable bosom, referred to the situation involving one Mary X, a woman of varying descriptions but with historical breasts, who was impregnated through the ear by the breath of an eternal spirit. )

I knew I couldn't go on like this.

It was a situation that called for breakfast.

A Bob's Big Boy all-you-can-eat breakfast at the Maryland House off the turnpike.

Every instinct in my body, and I had a lot of them, told me I was on the right track.

When I arrived, everything seemed normal. I was instantly on guard.

The waiter came over. "Nothing to drink, thanks"

He seemed more than annoyed. "Are you sure?"

I ate 14 of those little sausages. They were excellent.

Afterwards I hung around out back, smoking a stogie.

There was no unusual activity. I became suspicious.

(UNUSUAL ACTIVITIES

A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain activities are more unusual than others. Here are the results of our poll.

nude bowling 96.2
water walking 93.6
disco yoga 89.4
hair whacking 89.2
tree sniffing 84.9
latex polishing 78.6
fruit squishing 66.8
avalanche gazing 66.6
group potty training 7.9
ankle twitching 3.2

the margin of error is +- 0.0006
(we're that good!) )

Hours passed. Nothing happened.

Finally a truck pulled up, and the driver began unloading cartons.

I peered out of the bushes to get a closer look.

The cartons displayed the initials: F.C.T., and on the truck was the slogan, "Everybody Loves Our Juice".

(FedCorTron! Isn't it nice to know that FedCorTron is always there? )

I decided to follow it back to its point of origin.

Just then, I was grabbed from either side and hauled out of the bushes by two big men.

"You keep quiet!", the uglier one said, as they threw me into the back of the truck.

I made a thorough inspection of the cargo.

Same old boxes, containing nothing but cartons of juice.

I was feeling a little thirsty.

- don't do it, Dawn. You've had enough already! -

Eventually we arrived at FedCorTron headquarters.

(My mother always said
"There's no time like the present."
That's why I would never waste my time
with anything less than a FedCorTron product.)

- of course, F.C.T., FedCorTron! duh! –

(Minor Back Pain?
Persistent Throat Irritation?
Soreness In Those "Sensitive" Areas?
Need Life Insurance?
Any Problem Whatsoever?
FedCorTron is always there for you.)

I was forced to wait in a rather nice office while the goons kept watch over me.

A good looking young man in a suit came in and took a seat behind the desk.

"You must be public relations."

"At your service."

We stared at each other like lizards eyeing the same sunny slab.

"Well, Miss Debris, it seems you enjoy our breakfast!"

"I know what you're up to, and it won't work."

"Probably not, but I doubt you really know."

"You're infecting innocent people with desirable qualities!"

(A recent survey of our non-readers revealed that certain qualities are more desirable than others. Here are the results of our poll.

fat feet 96.2
gray eyes 93.6
split ends 89.4
a lisp 89.2
drool 84.9
bad breath 78.6
cackling 66.8
apathy 66.6
beauty 7.9
grace 3.2

the margin of error is +- 0.0006
(we're that good!)
tells you something about our non-readers, doesn't it? )

"Now, why would we want to do that?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

"All we want, Miss Debris, is for everyone to love our juice. Really."

"You mean it's all about marketing?"

(WEBSTER'S BRAVE NEW WORLD DICTIONARY

Cryomatosis: Genetic disposition to laugh hysterically at other people's misfortunes.

Gruntoma: Irrational fear of Klingon mating rituals.

Dimentia: Belief that reruns are proof of the General Unified Theory.

Pompukus: Involuntary protein spill at the mention of the word 'morality'.

Borascia: Allergic reaction to slow motion instant replays.

Marketing: Plague affecting late twentieth century civilization that led to the near-eradication of independent thought.

Unabombast: Achieving notoriety by means of anonymous threats and posturing.

Flare Devils: Mythical creatures who visit the scene of an accident.)

I don't know why I was surprised.

The Young Exec seemed to be deciding just how much to tell me.

"I admit we've made some mistakes. We were blundering about, really. Hare-brained schemes...

(Hare Brained Schemes

1. Mutually Assured Destruction. 2. Racial Purity 3. Saving the World With Orange Juice )

But then we came across a peculiar notion in the secretions of one of our test subjects."

I realized it must have been Morris!

"Yes, most interesting. We were trying to create the ideal consumer.

(The Ideal Consumer. Has nothing, wants everything. give 'em a lot of money. )

Dumb idea, really."

(A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain ideas are dumber than others. Here are the results of our poll.

Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself 96.2
It's All In The Cards 93.6
Big Boys Don't Cry 89.4
What Goes Around, Comes Around 89.2
Virtue Is It's Own Reward 84.9
God Helps Those Who Help Themselves 78.6
Things Go Better With Coke 66.8
Forgive And Forget 66.6
Every Dog Has His Day 7.9
Mind Your P's And Q's 3.2

the margin of error is +- 0.0006
(we're that good!) )

"It's been tried before.'

"You might say it is the only thing that's ever been tried; propaganda, advertising, all of that. Change the consumer. Make him what you want him to be. Make him want to be what you want him to be. Make everybody want to be that person. Old hat, really. Makes you wonder where the creativity's gone. But everybody else is doing it ...you know the argument ....

... But it is not so easy nowadays, not with all this new genetic technology. Not when you can literally turn them into what you want them to be. Too much competition, if you see what I mean. The Pepsi people want you to be one thing, the Coke people something else. Where's it all going to end? ....

... I mean, you can't give someone a new genetic code after every meal! It would cause too much instability'

"Tell me about it."

"That's where this idea comes into play. Very simple, really. What we want to do is fortify your genes, make them immune to further tampering, and along the way we slip in our little desire. A small price to pay. Well worth it, I would say."

"So you plan to save the world with orange juice!'

"Why not? It is good for you anyway. And we can feel good about our product. They tell me that is important here at FedCorTron.”

(It's true!
We do feel good about our products.
We're FedCorTron, and it shows.)

"Not to mention the profits.'

"Of course. So what do you say? Can I offer you some juice?"

"You have got to be kidding. I'm not touching any more of that stuff!"

"But I insist. Boys?"

The goons grabbed me and held me down, while the Young Exec poured it on my face.

The goons let me go, and the bigger one offered my his hanky to clean up with.

The Young Exec looked a little sheepish.

"I am sorry, but this is for your own good. Really. You're free to go now. Junior will take you back to your car"

Junior turned out to be a good guy, for a goon. We became friends.

And I became myself again in a couple of days.

No more opera. No more cigars. No more Fly Me To The Moon.

The only thing I regret is that I can't play the piano anymore.

As for my client, he was very happy to get his idea back.

I pocketed a hefty fee.

I didn't bother to tell him that the idea was worthless now that FCT had gotten it for free.

(FCT stands for FedCorTron.
FedCorTron stands for Quality.
Look for us wherever anything is sold.
Anywhere)

I also did not inform him that he could've gotten it back for the price of a glass of juice.

Hey, I've got to make a living somehow.

After all, I have a new O.J. habit to support.

the end

Dawn Debris - The Play

2007-05-06T23:56:00.001-07:00

Act One Scene One

DAWN DEBRIS is alone on a dark stage, under a spotlight.

DAWN

On a quiet September evening, I amused myself by playing 'Fly Me To The Moon'.

A PIANO begins playing a slow blues song (fly me to the moon)

The moon was full and red on the horizon.

Suddenly, I stopped and stood up.

The piano STOPS PLAYING

Something is terribly wrong!

I rushed out the door and onto the teeming city sidewalk, where I stood, confused and battered by pedestrians.

A crowd of people rushes across the stage, knocking Dawn to the ground. She stands up and declares

I don't know how to play the piano! What's happening to me?

The Piano resumes playing

It all began when Morris Bevelhead showed up at my office at 9 in the morning, on August the 23rd.

Act One SCENE TWO

The scene shifts. Dawn Debris is seated at her desk in her office, playing with a stuffed bunny. There is a KNOCK ON THE DOOR. MORRIS BEVELHEAD bursts into the office

MORRIS

Dawn Debris? The Private Investigator? I need your help!

DAWN

Yes. That's me. At your service.

MORRIS

You've got to help me. Something terrible has happened!

DAWN

Never fear. I am here.

(to the audience)

I just like saying that.

Dawn stands up and walks to the front of the stage, speaking directly to the audience.

DAWN

I doubted his story immediately. How could someone steal an idea from someone who looked like he'd never even had one. But that's exactly what he claimed had happened.

Dawn rushes back to her desk and resumes her original position.

MORRIS

I was on my way to FedCorTron. I had an interview all set up with the Old Executive himself, you know, the man who started it all

(beat)

I was in my car, driving, and suddenly it was gone. My idea was gone!

DAWN

You mean you forgot?

MORRIS

No! No! Not forgotten! Stolen! Somebody stole my idea!

Once again, Dawn stands and walks to the front of the stage, where she again addresses the audience.

DAWN

He had heard of me through my reputation. I was on a talk show once .

A JOURNALIST takes over speaking with a Howard Cosell accent, from a corner of the stage, under a spotlight.

JOURNALIST

KID FINDS HERO IN DEBRIS

Dateline: Chatanooga, Tennessee

Three-year old Sammy Delinqua thought he had lost his precious teddy bear forever when fourteen-year old babysitter, Sheena Ramone, accidentally left it by the garbage cans, where it was subsequently hauled away by the ever competent Sunset Scavengers.

His parents, twenty-six year old factory worker Jamie Delinqua and his wife, twenty-three year old Marsha, a becoming blonde, attempted to console the child with replacement bears, but the boy's behavior became increasingly aberrant and reckless.

Unable to tolerate the squalling brat any further, the desperate parents turned to a self-styled private investigator, twenty-nine year old Dawn Debris, a nondescript brunette, who nevertheless has a reputation for recovering lost or stolen articles of dubious or negligible value.

Through methods unknown to anyone, including herself, no doubt, Debris was able to locate the missing bear, or at least a facsimile thereof, convincing enough to placate the annoying child.

Debris accepted no payment or reward for this effort, except for an invitation to a talk show, which certainly served to enhance her small but amazingly loyal fan base.

Dawn and Morris are back in the office, seated across from each other with the desk in between.

MORRIS

You're the finder of things. Get my idea back!

Again, Dawn gets up and runs to the front of the stage, where she announces.

DAWN

Needless to say, I was intrigued. I had found many things before, but never something so insubstantial, so intangible, so obviously nonexistent!

There was the case of the accidentally discarded teddy bear.

A teddy bear is flung onto the stage from one side

And the lost necktie.

A necktie is flung from the other side of the stage

Not to mention the case of the missing fibula.

LOUD THUMP as a leg bone is tossed onto the stage.

This was entirely different.

Dawn rushes back to the desk opposite Morris

DAWN

I'll take the case!

(beat)

But first I need to know exactly what this stolen idea was.

MORRIS

But I don't know anymore!

DAWN

Oh, right. I forgot. In that case, maybe you can me where you were, exactly, when you first noticed it was missing.

MORRIS

I was on the freeway near Palo Alto, just south of Page Mill Road. I was driving down from Daly City. I had stopped only once, at theBob's Big Boy in San Bruno, for the all-you-can-eat breakfast. I really love those all-you-can-eat deals.

DAWN

Then that is where I'll begin.

ACT TWO SCENE ONE

Dawn is eating breakfast at the Bob's Big Boy

DAWN

This all-you-can-eat breakfast IS tasty, and a bargain to boot. The curious thing is that the waiter has to bring your drinks. Evidently it isn't an all-you-can-drink kind of thing.

Morris had told me that the waiter and the cashier were the only people he'd had contact with that day.

Waiter!

The WAITER comes over and Dawn shows her a photograph

DAWN

Do you remember this man?

WAITER

Um, no?

DAWN

Oh. OK.

Dawn gets up and walks across the stage to a CASHIER who is sitting and reading a romance novel.

DAWN

Excuse me.

CASHIER

Huh?

DAWN

Do you remember this man? He was here recently.

CASHIER

Um. no?

DAWN

Oh. OK.

Dawn walks to the front of the stage and faces the audience.

DAWN

I showed a picture around, but no one remembered him. Why should they?

So I gave up and went home. This was a stupid case anyway. A stolen idea. Who'd ever heard of such a thing?

ACT TWO SCENE TWO

In Dawn's apartment, her friends JACK, RUBY and COUSIN LARRY are all gathered around the kitchen table

JACK

That's not so stupid. Maybe they extracted it. Took it right out.

DAWN

Like with a needle to the skull?

JACK

No. With gene therapy. Where have you been?

DAWN

I have been in La Honda. You'd better explain what you mean. They're a little out of touch out there.

JACK

The science isn't perfect, but they have come a long way. They've identified thousands of genes responsible for this and that, and it's becoming quite specific. Everyday another gene is isolated and explained.

COUSIN LARRY

Sure, like for disabilities and diseases.

JACK

Not just that, but also the opposite. Genes for health and abilities as well.

RUBY

So what's that got to do with anything?

JACK

Well, if they can put them in you, they can take them out too.

DAWN

Yeah, but you're talking labs and hospitals, not fast food restaurants.

JACK

Come on, Dawn, you've been around. You know how it goes.

DAWN

I guess I'm going to have to look into the matter further. If what you say is true, then maybe there's an insidious underground black market dealing in desirable and undesirable qualities.

With a commotion and a rustle of papers, the POLLSTER dashes from the left to the front and center of the stage

POLLSTER

Ahem. Excuse me. A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain qualities are more desirable than others. Here are the results of our poll.

beauty 96.2, grace 93.6, style 89.4, charm 89.2, brains 84.9, talent 78.6, patience 66.8, compassion 66.6, duplicity 7.9, hypocrisy 3.2

the margin of error is plus or minus 0.0006 percent. We're that good!

The Pollster, dropping some pages on the way, exits, stage left.

Dawn gets up and stalks the stage like a big cat.

DAWN

Reputed mafia kingpins might be involved. The potential for profit is enormous!

Imagine wanting blue eyes. Tinted lenses are one thing, but actually having blue eyes would be better. Could you actually get injected with the genes for blue eyes?

JACK

Exactly! And not only that, the new gene would be enhanced to override the old one. But you're thinking small potatoes.

DAWN

Suddenly I understand!

There might be secret laboratories, organized crime, federal laws to be ignored, rich people knowing who to know, hush-hush deals, fancy dress parties, fashion statements in the making!

Dawn returns to the table with her friends

My god, this is terrible!

JACK

Welcome to the future.

RUBY

They wouldn't stop with blue eyes. That is just the tip of the iceberg.

LARRY

They'll find the gene that produces wrinkles, and take it out.

JACK

The gene for curly hair.

RUBY

The gene for perfect teeth.

DAWN

But we're being superficial. If all of this were true, you could make yourself whatever you wanted to be, inside and out.

We could all realize our lifelong fantasies! The madness must be stopped!

FERDINAND JEROME, professional pundit, strolls in from the right side of the stage, carrying a clipboard containing his speech, which he reads haltingly

JEROME

Might I present a dissenting opinion? I am Ferdinand Jerome, self-renowned expert and internationally broadcast pundit.

I strongly disagree with the foregoing statement, that 'the madness must be stopped'. Why, indeed, should it be? What could possibly be wrong with everyone realizing their lifelong fantasies?

I, for one, have long dreamed of losing this bit of paunch I have around the belly. I've tried everything, from diets to liposuction to rubbing various creams on my anterior. Why not a little DNA insertion, if that would do the trick?

I feel it would be terribly selfish of Miss Debris to deprive me of this opportunity. If you agree, dial 1-900-YES-MA'AM. If you disagree, dial 1-900-NO-SIREE. Local toll charges apply.

Jerome strolls off the stage. Dawn, glaring after him, returns to her central spot. She is now alone on the stage.

DAWN

I, Dawn Debris, finder of things, will be the one to stop it.

But not right now. Suddenly I feel like singing.

Dawn begins to sing 'Fly me to the moon', accompanied by a PIANO playing the same song as the opening scene of the play. She stops.

DAWN

Damn I sound good. I should be recording this!

(beat)

Wait a minute, I don't sing, I'm Dawn Debris, private eye. And where the heck is that piano? What is going on?

I realized that I'd been altered. I'd been poisoned with talent!

My mind went back to the Bob's Big Boy in San Bruno.

It must have been the juice!

If that was true, then a vast conspiracy was unfolding around me.

Old curmudgeon FRANKIE JOHNSON hobbles onto the stage, walking with a cane

FRANKIE JOHNSON

What's all this nonsense I hear about conspiracies?

And what is happening to the people of this country that they insist on seeing a conspiracy in every little thing that happens? It's gotten to the point that even if one of these theories turned out to be true, I wouldn't believe it anyway.

This is what it all boils down to: UFO's killed the Kennedys because Marilyn was secretly married to Castro even though he was blackmailing Khrushchev, who, by the way, was an extraterrestrial agent from a renegade planet which had been secretly bombed by the CIA operating out of a secret nuclear waste dump in Waco, Texas. So there. Darn fools.

Frankie hobbles off the stage. Dawn takes over again

DAWN

They'd gotten to Morris, stolen his idea, then followed him to me. Then they followed me and drugged my drink with genes.

Must've been a hell of an idea he had.

But nobody messes with Dawn Debris!

I was intent on revenge, but then I decided to try my hand at watercolors.

Dawn walks over to an easel, picks up a brush and begins to paint. After a few moments, she turns to show the audience her work

Soon I had a lovely landscape, with trees, grass, rocks etc...

It's like the coast of California , only different.

I oughta get myself an agent!

All I ever wanted to do since childhood was to fight crime and protect the weak and innocent. Well, I couldn't do that, but at least I could find missing things and serve the public that way.

But none of that seemed important anymore.

Let them find their own things! I'm too busy exploring my inner nature.

Dawn begins a modern dance around the stage one time, then stops again at the front.

Okay, maybe it isn't my own, real inner nature.

Okay, so I got it poured into me through a glass of juice.

Anyway, I was discovering things about myself I never knew before, because they'd never been in me before.

Dawn begins a tour around the stage, and the spotlight and audio show different scenes to illustrate the following few items.

I was going to museums and actually appreciating the art!

I was listening to modern jazz, and enjoying it!

I even watched the evening news with interest!

The TV BROADCAST LADY steps in from the corner and shouts

TV BROADCAST LADY

NOW MORE THAN EVER NEWS YOU CAN USE FROM THE TEAM YOU CAN TRUST WE'RE THERE WHEN YOU NEED US MOST WHICH IS NOW MORE THAN EVER

stay tuned for more news from THE news leader ...

TV Broadcast Lady steps back off the stage.

ACT TWO SCENE THREE

We are again in Dawn's apartment, with Jack, Cousin Larry and Ruby.

DAWN

My friends were worried about me.

I was boring them with talk about the transitory nature of experience.

My friend, Ruby, was especially upset.

Ruby takes center stage and sole spotlight.

RUBY

I wasn't that upset, really. I was getting kind of bored with the old Dawn, and this was something new. Imagine actually having a new conversation with your best friend after eleven years of being roommates!

Imagine all of a sudden not knowing exactly what she'll say under any given condition. Imagine a different reaction to the same old conversation.

So I wasn't especially upset. But since Dawn likes to think she's the tough one, I let her think I was worried.

All the friends are again in light.

RUBY

(in forced tones)

Oh me oh my. What happened to the Dawn Debris I know and love?

DAWN

My cousin Larry had even less patience than usual.

Cousin Larry takes the spot.

LARRY

As usual, Dawn is exaggerating. I have a lot of patience, at least more than she does. Remember that time the waiter took twenty minutes to bring the water? Who was screaming and yelling, huh? Who got us thrown out of the restaurant? And the time we got stuck in traffic on the east bound skyway? Who threw the tire iron at the beamer? Not me.But you know, Dawn. She likes to think she's always right.

Again all the friends are in the light.

LARRY

(in forced tones)

Oh Dawn. Wait no longer. You need help right away.

JACK

I'm taking you to a specialist!

DAWN

Larry and Ruby had to hold me down all the way to the hospital.

Larry and Ruby grab Dawn and drag her off the stage. Intermission is permissible here :}

ACT THREE SCENE ONE

In a medical office, SPECIALIST # 1 lectures Dawn, Jack, Ruby and Larry

SPECIALIST

I'm telling you it is completely impossible for someone to be turned into a snobby bohemian dilettante through genetic transfusion and I quote from the Journal of American Cryomatosis:

In clinical trials occurring over a period of eleven years, it has been determined that cryomatosis tends to persist in those patients in whom the disease lasts longer than in others.

Stop wasting my time!

Dawn, Jack, Larry and Ruby leave and re-enter the same office, with Dawn saying

DAWN

Every doctor they drag me to says the same thing.

SPECIALIST

In clinical trials occurring over a period of eleven years, it was determined that cryomatosis tends to persist in those patients in whom the disease lasts longer than in others. )

They leave the office again. This time the Specialist also does. The friends re-enter the stage.

JACK

No more so-called experts! Now let's get down to business!

I'm taking you to the secret laboratory of Dr. Hideo Tarantula.

ACT THREE SCENE TWO

In a laboratory, the friends are seated around a table. Dawn is lying on her back on the table. DOCTOR HIDEO TARANTULA is skulking around, occasionally poking at Dawn, who has her head turned to face the audience.

DAWN

He scraped samples from various parts of my body.

While I waited, strapped onto a table, he studied my scraps under a microscope.

Tarantula walks over to a desk and leans over a microscope. Suddenly, the TV BROADCAST LADY reappears on stage, and announces

My husband is a dentist. That's why I would never trust my teeth to anyone but FedCorTron Makers of an assortment of fine products.

TV Broadcast Lady backs off the stage. Dawn, straining to growl at her, turns her head again towards the audience.

DAWN

Occasionally he shook his head and grunted like a pig.

Ruby held my hand and tried to keep from crying.

Ruby walks around the table to the front of the stage, in the spot. Dawn grabs her arm.

RUBY

Actually, I was trying to get her to let go of my arm. There was an issue of Highlights in the waiting room that I wanted to read, but she wouldn't let go.

Ruby pulls her arm away and walks back to her seat behind the table.

DAWN

As for myself, I was pondering the rites of consecration, and their relation to tribal dance forms.

Finally the doctor reach a conclusion.

The doctor gets up from his microscope and walks over to the group.

HIDEO TARANTULA

I'm afraid the news is bad!

DAWN

Ruby couldn't contain herself any longer.

RUBY

What is it, doctor? What is going on?

Ruby turns to the audience.

RUBY

Actually, I wasn't really paying attention, to tell you the truth. That's why I asked what is going on?

HIDEO TARANTULA

I'm afraid her genetic code is being overwritten at an alarming rate. It seems that not only traits, but an entire personality has been insinuated into her system.

JACK

But who is it? Who is this personality who has infected our friend?

HIDEO TARANTULA

There's no way to know.

LARRY

What about the real Dawn? How can we get her back?

HIDEO TARANTULA

I'm not sure it's possible.

RUBY

Isn't there anything you can do?

HIDEO TARANTULA

Well, the best hope is Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapy

JACK

I think I read a survey of American Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapists which revealed that a significant majority favor the use of Counter-Adaptive Replacement Therapy.

LARRY

But what is it?

HIDEO TARANTULA

Quite simple, really. We merely locate someone similar to the old Dawn, and overwrite the overwritten genes with the genes from that person. But you must tell me what she was like before.

DAWN

My friends can tell you what I was like.

RUBY

Well, she was rude, crude, ignorant and ill-mannered.

LARRY

All she cared about was finding lost things and pocketing the fee.

JACK

She had no use for culture of any kind.

RUBY

She preferred anything superficial to anything with substance.

LARRY

She was a bloodhound, a single-minded private eye with a taste for the street and a nose for the criminal underground.

HIDEO TARANTULA

Excellent. Excellent. I have just the thing. I just happen to have here the personality blueprint of one Inspector Slaymaker, formerly of the Newark police, now in a coma in Secaucus.

Ruby, Jack and Larry jump up and down excitedly cheering, while Dr Tarantula rushes off and returns quickly with a glass of juice, which they force Dawn to drink.

ACT THREE SCENE THREE

Dawn is laying on a couch in Tarantula's lab, her head still facing the audience. Sound effects and props abound in this scene.

DAWN

The next few days were a blur.

I lay on the couch, exhausted, as Slaymaker's traits did battle with those of the snob, which were still kicking my own around.

One minute I hankered for a violin to pluck.

The next I craved a shotgun to blow away my TV set.

I would draw a sketch, then set it on fire with my lighter.

I tried to listen to the opera on the radio, but then I'd fiddle with the dial, trying to find the police scanner frequency.

I sipped wine. I swallowed six-packs. I threw up frequently.

I couldn't eat, because I didn't like anything I wanted, or want anything I liked.

Dr. Tarantula took notes at a furious pace, while Jack and Larry played poker in the corner.

Lighting shows Dr Tarantula scribbling notes while Jack and Larry play poker in the corner. Tarantula reads from his notebook.

HIDEO TARANTULA

What are these people doing in my lab? I told them to get out of here it seems like days ago. They're driving me nuts. I mean, how much poker can you play? How many hoagies can you munch? Just what do I have to do to get these people out of my house? I gave her the shot so why don't they leave? Like I really care how all of this turns out. I take Mastercard, what else do I need?

DAWN

Gradually I realized what I had to do to get out of there.

I managed to inhale some hoagies, and belch.

I asked Jack for a shortwave, so I could nap to the soothing sounds of emergency 911 dispatches.

On opposite sides of the stage, the DISPATCHER and the CALLER engage in frantic conversation

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

Hello?

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

Is anybody there? Can you hear me?

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

Somebody please answer. It's an emergency!

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

Hello?

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

I've been shot.

DISPATCHER

What?

CALLER

Aaaaah.

DISPATCHER

What?

A second DISPATCHER appears next to the first

DISPATCHER 2

What was that?

DISPATCHER

Wrong number, I guess.

DISPATCHER

What?

The Dispatchers and caller disappear from the stage

DAWN

I kept my mouth shut.

By morning, I had convinced them I was better and they let me out.

ACT THREE SCENE FOUR

Dawn is dressed in private eye outfit, a trench coat and a far cigar. She is patrolling the street. There are various passersby

DAWN

(in her best hard-boiled cop voice)

Slaymaker took me shopping.

On the street I was aware of every nuance.

A 501 in progress

Girl in Levi's blue jeans walks across the stage

DAWN

A 411 gone bad

Man yelling into his cellphone walks by

DAWN

A 666 heading south on Main

Character in a Satan outfit parades across the stage.

DAWN

I felt my veins turn to ice as I thought of all the slime I'd put away over the years.

I reached for my piece, but all I found was a ticket to the Chechen Ballet.

(voice changes from hard-boiled to snob)

Wait a minute. I can't go to the ballet like this. I'll have to go home and change.

But first I had to wait for the bus.

ACT FOUR SCENE ONE

In Dawn's apartment.

DAWN

Finally home, I headed straight for the bathroom.

But then I saw myself in the mirror.

Who is that?

I didn't recognize myself at all!

Of course, I knew who I was. I was Dawn Debris, inspector of things, formerly from Secaucus, now in a coma, listening to angels singing 'Fly Me To The Moon'.

And I could remember my life, or sort of.

For example, my 6th birthday, though of course at the time I was 34, and hadn't even been born yet.

The time I brought down Sonny the Snake. I must have been 2.

The first time I had pizza.

Well, the three times I first had pizza.

I knew I couldn't go on like this.

It was a situation that called for breakfast.

A Bob's Big Boy all-you-can-eat breakfast off the freeway in San Bruno.

ACT FOUR SCENE TWO

Outside the Bob's Big Boy restaurant, Dawn is barely concealed behind some bushes.

DAWN

Every instinct in my body, and I had a lot of them, told me I was on the right track.

When I arrived, everything seemed normal. I was instantly on guard.

The waiter came over. Nothing to drink, thanks, I said.

He seemed more than annoyed. Are you sure?

I ate 14 of those little sausages. They were excellent.

Afterwards I hung around out back, smoking a stogie.

There was no unusual activity. I became suspicious.

In a flurry of rustling papers, the POLLSTER reappears, nearly colliding with Dawn in her 'hiding spot' before taking center stage

POLLSTER

Ahem. About those unusual Activities.

A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain activities are more unusual than others. Here are the results of our poll.

water walking 93.6, disco yoga 89.4, hair whacking 89.2, tree sniffing 84.9, latex polishing 78.6, fruit squishing 66.8, avalanche gazing 66.6, group potty training 7.9, ankle twitching 3.2

the margin of error is plus or minus 0.0006 percent. We really are that good!

The pollster rushes off once again in a flurry of dropped papers.

DAWN

Hours passed. Nothing happened.

Finally a truck pulled up, and the driver began unloading cartons.

Two men appear near Dawn, carrying some boxes and setting them down.

I peered out of the bushes to get a closer look.

The cartons displayed the initials: F.C.T., and on the truck was the slogan, Everybody Loves Our Juice.

From the other side of the stage, the TV Broadcast Lady breifly appears, only long enough to announce:

FedCorTron! Isn't it nice to know that FedCorTron is always there?

DAWN

I decided to follow it back to its point of origin.

Just then, I was grabbed from either side and hauled out of the bushes by two big men.

Indeed, the men unloading the boxes grab Dawn and drag her to the truck.

THUG # 1

You keep quiet

Dawn is thrown into the truck, where she is surrounded by cartons of orange juice

DAWN

I made a thorough inspection of the cargo.

Same old boxes, containing nothing but cartons of juice.

I was feeling a little thirsty.

But I told myself - don't do it, Dawn. You've had enough already!

Sounds of doors slamming and truck driving away as the lights go down.

ACT FOUR SCENE THREE

Dawn is in an office, guarded by the two thugs

DAWN

Eventually we arrived at FedCorTron headquarters.

From another part of the stage, the TV Broadcast Lady is spotted.

TV BROADCAST LADY

My mother always said There's no time like the present. That's why I would never waste my time with anything less than a FedCorTron product.

DAWN

Of course, F.C.T., FedCorTron! duh!

TV BROADCAST LADY

Minor Back Pain? Persistent Throat Irritation? Soreness In Those Sensitive Areas? Need Life Insurance? Any Problem Whatsoever? FedCorTron is always there for you.

TV Broadcast Lady backs off the stage.

DAWN

I was forced to wait in a rather nice office while the goons kept watch over me.

A good looking young PR MAN in a suit comes in and takes a seat behind the desk.

DAWN

You must be public relations.

PR MAN

At your service.

DAWN

We stared at each other like lizards eyeing the same sunny slab.

PR MAN

Well, Miss Debris, it seems you enjoy our breakfast!

DAWN

I know what you're up to, and it won't work.

PR MAN

Probably not, but I doubt you really know.

DAWN

You're infecting innocent people with desirable qualities!

At this, the POLLSTER scurries onto the stage.

POLLSTER

Ahem. Desirable qualities? Yes. We've done that.

A recent survey of our non-readers revealed that certain qualities are more desirable than others. Here are the results of our poll.

fat feet 96.2, gray eyes 93.6, split ends 89.4, a lisp 89.2, drooling 84.9, bad breath 78.6, cackling 66.8, apathy 66.6, beauty 7.9, grace 3.2

the margin of error is plus or minus 0.0006 percent. I told you we were good!Tells you something about our non-readers, doesn't it?

Pollsters rushes off the stage.

PR MAN

Now, why would we want to do a thing like that? Give people good qualities? For free?

DAWN

I haven't figured that part out yet.

PR MAN

All we want, Miss Debris, is for everyone to love our juice. Really.

DAWN

You mean it's all about marketing?

PR MAN

I admit we've made some mistakes. We were blundering about, really. Hare-brained schemes...

But then we came across a peculiar notion in the secretions of one of our test subjects.

DAWN

You mean Morris Bevelhead?

PR MAN

Yes, most interesting. We were trying to create the ideal consumer. You know. Has nothing, wants everything.

Dumb idea, really.

Pollster starts to run onto the stage.

PR MAN

You again? Weren't you just in the middle of my scene a minute ago?

POLLSTER

Just doing my job, sir

PR MAN

Oh well, get on with it, then.

POLLSTER

Ahem. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Dumb ideas, you were saying?

A recent survey of our readers revealed that certain ideas are dumber than others. Here are the results of our poll.

It's All In The Cards 93.6, Big Boys Don't Cry 89.4, What Goes Around, Comes Around 89.2, Virtue Is It's Own Reward 84.9, Things Go Better With Coke 66.8, Forgive And Forget 66.6, Every Dog Has His Day 7.9, Mind Your P's And Q's 3.2

the margin of error is plus or minus 0.0006 percent

PR MAN

You can go now. Thanks

POLLSTER

We're

PR MAN

Yes, yes, we know. You're good. Now go.

POLLSTER

Uh, yes, sir

Pollster scrambles off the stage

PR MAN

It's been tried before, you know.

You might say it is the only thing that's ever been tried; propaganda, advertising, all of that. Change the consumer. Make him what you want him to be. Make him want to be what you want him to be. Make everybody want to be that person. Old hat, really. Makes you wonder where the creativity's gone. But everybody else is doing it ...you know the argument ....

But it is not so easy nowadays, not with all this new genetic technology. Not when you can literally turn them into what you want them to be. Too much competition, if you see what I mean. The Pepsi people want you to be The New Generation. The Coke people want you to be Old School. Where's it all going to end? Take a sip of this and bam, DNA material going in. Take a sip of that and bam. More DNA material!

I mean, you can't give someone a new genetic code after every meal! It would cause too much instability.

DAWN

Tell me about it.

PR MAN

That's where this idea comes into play. Very simple, really. What we want to do is fortify your genes, make them immune to further tampering, and along the way we slip in our little desire. A small price to pay. Well worth it, I would say.

DAWN

So you plan to save the world with orange juice!

PR MAN

Why not? It is good for you anyway. And we can feel good about our product. They tell me that is important here at FedCorTron.

TV Broadcast Lady strolls in and stands beside PR MAN

TV BROADCAST LADY

It's true! We do feel good about our products. We're FedCorTron, and it shows.

PR MAN

Not to mention the profits.

DAWN

Of course.

PR MAN

So what do you say? Can I offer you some juice?

DAWN

You have got to be kidding. I'm not touching any more of that stuff!

PR MAN

But I insist. Boys?

The goons grab DAWN and hold her down, while the PR MAN pours it on her face. The goons let her go, and the bigger one offered her his hanky to clean up with. The PR MAN looks a little sheepish.

PR MAN

I am sorry, but it's for your own good. Really. You're free to go now. Junior will take you back to your car.

EPILOGUE

Dawn is alone on stage in the spot

DAWN

Junior turned out to be a good guy, for a goon. We became friends.

And I became myself again in a couple of days.

No more opera. No more cigars. No more Fly Me To The Moon.

The only thing I regret is that I can't play the piano anymore.

As for my client, he was very happy to get his idea back.

I pocketed a hefty fee.

I didn't bother to tell him that the idea was worthless now that FCT had gotten it for free.

TV Broadcast Lady pops up again

TV BROADCAST LADY

FCT stands for FedCorTron. FedCorTron stands for Quality. Look for us wherever anything is sold. Anywhere.

TV Broadcast Lady disappears.

DAWN

I also did not inform him that he could've gotten it back for the price of a glass of juice.

But hey, I've got to make a living somehow.