NeverlandA Rock And Roll Fantasy

A Joint Project of The Stuart Ostrow Foundation
and The John F. Kennedy Center For The Performing Arts
Workshop premiere at the Kennedy Center, 1977

SYNOPSIS OF SCENES

  1. Prologue: The Historian’s Speech
  2. Phase I: The Formation of the Pack
  3. Phase II: The Expedition
  4. Phase III: The Abduction
  5. Phase IV: The Initiation
  6. Phase V: The Declaration of Devotion
  7. Phase VI: The Hunt
  8. Phase VII: The Manipulation
  9. Phase VIII: Intermission
  10. Phase IX: Title Unknown
  11. Phase X: Baal’s Delerium and Visions of Neverland
  12. Phase XI: The Annihilation
  13. Phase XII: Baal and Wendy Are Old: The Regeneration

Musical Numbers

Act I

  1. The Formation of the Pack (All Revved Up With No Place To Go)Baal, Lost Boys, Tink
  2. City NightWendy Max, Baal, Emily, Tink
  3. Midnight Seranade (Come With Me…)Baal, Tink
  4. Bat Out Of HellBaal, Tink, Wendy
  5. Heaven Can WaitWendy
  6. The HuntCompany
  7. The Assassins’ Song (Who Needs The Young?)Max, Emily
  8. GodsCompany

Act II

  1. Dance In My PantsCompany
  2. The Maladiction (Hushaby)Emily
  3. Kingdom ComeTink, Lost Boys, Wendy
  4. The AnnihilationWendy, Lost Boys, Tink, Obsidianites

Book, Music and Lyrics by Jim Steinman
Directed by Barry Keating

Cast (in order of appearance)

Dance Assistants: Con Errico, J. Geils, Mark Hammond,
Brian Lee Peterson, Hilary Wright

Orchestra Luna: Rick Kinscherf: keyboards and vocals
Bob Brandon: keyboards
Chet Cahill: bass guitar
Steve Perry: lead guitar
Karla deVito: vocal
Liz Gallagher: vocal
Peter Barrett: vocal
Ace Holleran: drums

Place: The Coast of Southern California, The Metropolis of Obsidian
Time: The Long and Distant Future

Prologue: The Historian’s Speech

Historian: Ladies and gentlemen I… — I… — I… — I am an historian.
Ketchup or blood? Yes… No… Yes. Ketchup or blood, and which is which?

Yes. No. Yes. Ketchup or blood! Does it matter? They both disgust me. Ketchup or blood, does it matter? Ketchup or blood, I asked you a question. Ketchup or blood, ketchup or blood, ketchup or blood? Does it matter?

We pour one on our meats to make our meals more colorful, we pour the other on our flesh to make our deaths more colorful, to make our banquets more colorful, to make our wars more colorful, to make our table tops shine brighter with red, to make our battlefields and burial grounds run richer with red. Let the movies be seasoned with ketchup, let the stockyards be seasoned with blood, and let us all take it wherever we get it.

Yes… No. Yes… We pour one on our meats to make our meals more colorful. We pour the other on our flesh to make our wars more colorful, to make our slaughter more colorful for the movies, and yes, we do have colorful movies, yes.

Do you like the movies? I find them immeasurably more entertaining than the theater, don’t you? You do? Then get out!

Ketchup or blood? We enjoy them both. Ketchup or blood? We love our movies. Ketchup or blood? We love our lives. Ketchup or blood? We love our games. Ketchup or blood? We love our wars. Ketchup or blood? We love our dreams. Ketchup or blood? We love our nightmares. Ketchup or blood? We love our bodies. Ketchup or blood? We love our meat! Well, don’t we? Don’t we love our meat, now, don’t we? I asked you a question, don’t we love our meat, now? Yes! No! Yes, we love our meat. Altogether: we love our meat. Altogether now: yes, we love our meat. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes, we love our meat!

So why do we smother it in ketchup? Why do we drown it in blood? Yes, no, yes…

It’s all the same, no matter how you slice it. The last supper will be exactly the same as the last day of judgment. Nothing but ruin and emaciated, starving people nibbling on one another… with ketchup, and with blood.

I am an historian. I have to keep reminding myself; something that hideous, you try to forget. Our deal is long. So little to do and so much… time… to do it in. Centuries. Endless centuries.

I think… I’m going… to puke. I make myself sick, don’t you? Then get out! Now, then. Well, forget what I said. It’s irrelevant. It has nothing to do with tonight’s subject. Nothing to do with it at all. Forget it.

Shut up! Don’t anybody move! I know just what you’re thinking. Forget it! Ladies and gentlemen, I am an historian. I am also your narrator for tonight. Don’t anybody move. Don’t anybody so much as look around, or wince, or twitch, or blink, or laugh, or convulse, or cry. Stare straight ahead, stiff and stony as a corpse. Now that shouldn’t be too difficult. Most of you look like rigor mortis was a way of life.

Oh, you bore me! You bore me. You bore me! Who do you think you are, anyway? Well, you’re not! Perhaps you are, so much the worse for you.

Only the slightest breathing, only the slightest.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen, how… how must I appear to you? I can guess your answer. You see one very slimy, very greasy, perhaps even… dare I say it?… repulsive man. Don’t let it bother you, it’s only my business manner, my own little brand of distilled insanity. Without my madness, I’d lose my mind. Whatever’s left of it, anyway.

It is not easy being caretaker to the largest, the most inevitable, the most relentless, the most rancid, and the most inescapable cemetery in the scope of the human imagination. It is not easy being an historian.

There is a major lesson to be learned, here! And I have no idea what it is. No, I have only the facts. Oh yes, here it is, wait, hold on… "Vaseline is no cure for cancer." I can’t argue with that. I offer no more comforting lubrication, only the facts.

There through my admittedly putrid business manner, I am what you see. No more, no less. You can ignore me for now. Do you think I care? Sooner or later you will all, ALL be victim to… the historian!

My heart is foaming, my brain is soaking wet. My stomach is queasy, my eyes are shaking; my tongue, my thighs are hallucinating. I… I’m in the middle of a fit. We’re all in the middle of a fit. Oh, it’s starting again! Won’t you join me?

So! Moving right along here, what have we learned? That I am an historian, my products make you sick, and yet you remain. My faithful, foolish customers. Why can’t you learn, idiot? Or… or perhaps my products don’t make you sick. Perhaps it’s too late for that now, maybe you’re immune. A terrifying thought.

But why go to the historian if he has lost his power to shock? Am I no longer rated X? Have even little children ceased to be afraid of my finest atrocities? My most brutal visions? Oh god, is there no sucker? Oh!… Shit.

It’s at times like these that I, I remember the words of the great Indian mystic, Kuturu, who looked at me with infinite sadness, saying [a phrase in another language], which means… well, the same thing in English.

I don’t think you’re taking this all serious, it’s… [has another fit] Are you quite finished?

I was not always as you now see me. Hard to believe, but, once I… once, I was so innocent. Nothing on me mind. Once, I was in love with a lady. How nice it would be to feel clean again.

I can see you smirking. How amusing this all is, the little man is making a fool of himself! At least, that’s what the young ones think. The old ones, they understand my power better, they’re closer to me now, but… the young ones, the babies, sometimes they never really do understand until the time comes. And the time has come!

Tonight, you will see it. The ludicrous parade of young boys. Sorry. The ludicrous display of young girls stuck to their cruel mouths in exhausted breathing, ecstatic moaning, and voluptuous…

I… am going to cough. Again and again. It’s expected of me. I always do what’s expected of me. That’s why I’ve lived so long. I think. Alright, already, alright!

I am an historian! I hope you knew that. But I have vomited up your poisons for centuries, and still you feed me your vile foods. Still, you continue to live in your own shit! And still, I continue to deliberate your doorstep. Must we continue to torture one another? [gets carried away and falls into an audience member’s lap] We can’t go on meeting like this, it just won’t work.

I could go on, but I won’t. Tonight is a festive occasion and I, well I… let myself get carried away. Forgive me. It won’t happen again.

I am an historian. I don’t ask for pity. I don’t ask for compassion. I don’t ask for condolences. I don’t ask for hope, I don’t ask for promises, and I don’t ask for feelings, I ask only that you keep your distance as I have tried to keep mine, though we have both failed too many times to count.

I am an historian. I ask only to be left alone. After all these years, I think I deserve that. I think I deserve that, don’t you?

Just get out! Just leave me alone! Leave my vein in peace. Give us all some mercy! Die faster, die more cleanly, die more smoothly, forget the ketchup, forget the blood! Die in black and white and fuck the colors! But please… oh, please, give history the rest it deserves. Give us all some mercy! Take your destruction somewhere else, give history the rest it deserves! Take your confessions somewhere else!

I’m sorry. There is nowhere else. I’m really very sorry, but I’ll… I’ll do my best. But lakes dry up. Lakes dry up…

I… I suppose I seem to be crying. Well, don’t let it fool you, shitholes! Oh, I’ll admit it, there is nowhere else. But I’ll do my best. I’ll do what’s expected of me.

Can’t you see how much I hate you?

Phase I: The Formation of the Pack

Historian: Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, tonight’s history…

Let us begin with our location.

We are on the coast of southern California, on the jagged rocks overlooking the purple ocean. We are on the jagged rim of the searing edge of the west, in the farthest dream of essential America, and we are in the long and distant future. Nearby is a huge black and blue and silver city, a monster that breeds on its own inescapable pollution and corruption, and wears it’s decay like a shrill, mincing smile. The great Metropolis of Obsidian. Built upon the ashes and the ruins of the Great Earthquake, like an ancient, medieval fortress it stands, beaming its blinding light out over the desolate surrounding country side.

As our story begins, a young man miraculously escapes from the clutches of the city and the Asylum for the Chemically Insane. He is 18 years old. His name is Baal, and he is our main character for tonight. Baal. B-A-A-L. Get it right! He becomes the leader of a pack, a pack of lost boys, wild children; ruthless, restless, reckless, nomadic, wandering, get the picture? Always searching for new adventure. They come here. One by one, each of them all alone from far and wide, they come here to the rocks of the coast, in the shadows of Obsidian.

Ladies and gentlemen, a song for your pleasure.

Phase I: The Formation of the Pack!

Song: The Formation of the Pack (All Revved Up With No Place To GO)

Baal: Let the revels begin
While the night is still young
Let the revels begin
Call our children together

Let the revels begin
While the night is still young
Let the revels begin
And call our children together

Let the revels begin
While the night is still young
Let the revels begin
Call The Pack together

Let the revels begin
While the night is still young
Let the revels begin
Call The Pack together, and…

I was nothing but a lonely boy
Looking for something new
And you were nothing but a lonely girl
But you were something
Something like a dream come true

I was a varsity tackle
And a hell of a block
And when I played my guitar
I made the canyons rock
But every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
All revved up with no place to go
D’ya know what it’s like?
All revved up with no place to go

In the middle of a steaming night
I’m tossing in my sleep
And in the middle of a red-eyed dream
I see you coming
Coming on to give it to me

I was out on the prowl
Down by the edge of the track
And like a son of a jackal
I’m the leader of the pack
But every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
All revved up with no place to go
D’ya know what it’s like?
All revved up with no place to go

Ooh, I’m like a hunter in the dark of the forest
I’ll be stalking you and tracking you down
Cruising up and down the main track all night long
We could be standing at the top of the world
Instead of sinking further down in the mud

You and me ‘round about midnight
You and me ‘round about midnight
Someone’s got to draw first, draw first
Someone’s got to draw first blood
Someone’s got to draw first blood
Ooh, I got to draw first blood
Ooh, I got to draw first… blood

In the middle of a steaming night
I’m tossing in my sleep
And in the middle of a perfect dream
I see you coming
Coming on to give it to me

I was out on the prowl
Down by the edge of the track
And like a son of a jackal
I’m the leader of the pack
But every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
All revved up with no place to go
D’ya know what it’s like?
All revved up with no place to

instrumental

I was nothing but a lonely All-American boy
Looking out for something to do
You were nothing but a lonely All-American girl
But you were something like a dream come true

I was out on the prowl
Down by the edge of the track
And like a son of a jackal
I’m the leader of the pack
But every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
All revved up with no place to go!
All revved up with no place to go!
All revved up with no place to go!
All revved up with no place to go!
All revved up with no place to go!

Historian: After a while, rumors spread! It is said that strange, orgiastic, and brutal rights are performed on these rocks and in the sulfurous caves beneath. The rulers of Obsidian are terrified that Baal and his track pack might leave their primitive home and come wandering into the city limits, thus destroying the peaceful balance of urban life.

And just between you and me, their worries are not entirely without justification. I mean, really, I ask you (but I must not take sides!)… Civilization is tense! Action is taken! Baal’s youth, freedom, and extravagant use of leisure time is a threat. The city sends out Max and Emily! Two special agents, assassins of the young, and masters of impersonation. (Charming couple, I’ve known them for years.) Their job is simple: tame the wild beasts and bring them back alive for proper public punishment!

Max: Emily, look! Look about you. We are in the clouds! Each year, the towers of the city seem to reach higher and higher, further and further away from the filthy earth. And someday, all this will be totally enclosed, sealed tight within a huge, antiseptic bubble. Nothing will get in and nothing will get out. Everything will be controlled. The ultimate hygiene will be triumphant. There will be no need for nature! The era of the new man, free from nature! Totally free.

Nature is the ladder we have climbed up on. Now we kick her away. Eventually, we will have total command from the beginning of life to the end.

Even as I speak, the test tubes are starting to bleed. The test tubes are starting to bleed! First blood, only the beginning! The experiments are far from over. The laboratories are everywhere. Find chemical blood to fill all the vessels! Leave nothing to nature!

And in the end, you will die, but even then you will not become filth. In a few moments, you are a little heap of ash, clean white powder, and there will be no wind to blow that powder about. Each grain will remain exactly in its place where you died until the end of the universe!

I see chrome! I see chrome everywhere! I dream of chrome. And still the towers grow. Obsidian rides even higher! Split the stars! Slice up the rim of heaven! Rip up the night! Shine in the moonlight! Ah! Just like a blade! Just like a blade!

Historian: But meanwhile, back on the rocks, there is intrigue afoot. The rebels continue. There is a plan.

Baal:Tonight, I want her.
Tink:We don’t need her.
Baal:I need someone.
Tink:Why does it have to be her?
Baal:Something new. I used to watch her by the light of the window in the asylum. I’ve always wanted her. And now I can have her

Phase II: The Expedition

Historian: Ladies and gentlemen, come with me now, stay by my side, as we follow Baal and Tink, his fiery henchman and most trusted lieutenant, through the gates. A treacherous journey, to be sure, as we pass through and enter into Obsidian.

Phase II: The Expedition.

And now, in her room, on top of the north high tower, we can see Wendy, here, right next to the Asylum for the Chemically Insane. While up above, we will observe her loving parents, Max and Emily, and beneath them all, the city comes to life.

Song: City Night

Emily: City night
Where all the butcher’s blocks are looking for a bite
City night
And all the stars are spent while bullets steal their lights
City night
And all the sanctuaries vanishing from sight

City night
And all the children in their cages sleeping tight
City night
And all the inmates making love by the TV light
City night
And all the shadows roam the streets looking for fights

Max: So give yourself to the rising wind
The gradual execution will now begin
When there’s nothing to loose
Then there’s nothing left to win

Emily: Who knows where this city ends
And the house of detention begins?
Who knows where this city ends
And the house of detention begins?

All: City night
And all our children in their cages sleeping tight
City night
And all the inmates making love by the TV light
City night
And all the shadows roam the streets looking for fights

So give yourself to the rising wing
The gradual execution will now begin
When there’s nothing to loose
Then there’s nothing left to win

Emily: Who knows where my body ends
And where their bodies begin?
Who knows where my body ends
And where their bodies begin?

Baal: The sky is shaking so that I can hardly stand
I’m just a kid; don’t make me feel like a man
And in the moonlight I can see your trembling hands
I’m just a kid; don’t make me feel like a man

Emily:Wendy! Are you still awake? Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself?
Wendy:The sea is watching the sky and the sky is watching the sea. Nothing will ever happen.
Emily:Really, I don’t know where you pick up these ideas. You haven’t slept for days. What do you see out there?
Wendy:Nothing.
Emily:Won’t you at least take something? Just to help you sleep. Surely, you’ll do that. For us?
Wendy:Why do you make me sleep so much?
Emily:There we are!
Wendy:What if I don’t want any?
Emily:Only medicine. We got it ’specially for you. It’s a new one, to make you feel better.
Wendy:I don’t want it!
Emily:Why… I’m shocked. Surely you don’t think we… We’re only trying to make it easier for you.
Wendy:There have been so many medicines, so many drugs.
Emily:We’re making great progress in that area.
Wendy:Mother, why don’t I ever dream anymore?
Emily:Don’t be ridiculous! You just don’t remember your dreams.
Wendy:Please don’t lie to me. It’s something you’ve been giving me. I never dream anymore.
Emily:Even if you dream, it’s of no value. It can only lead to trouble.
Wendy:It’s been so long. The sea is watching the sky, the sky is watching the sea, nothing will ever happen.
Emily:Poor child. She makes things so difficult… There, just what the doctor ordered. Wendy, dear! I have something for you. You will at least turn around? Here, have a piece of fruit.
Wendy:I’m not hungry.
Emily:You’ve got to eat something! You need the nourishment! You’re getting so… thin! For our sake… Put our minds at ease, and we won’t bother you any more tonight… Go ahead, it won’t bite. There, that’s better. That’s a good girl. Well, I guess we’ll see you in the morning, then. Your father and I may be out very late tonight. We’re working on a case, you know.

Emily:At last, a long, long sleep. ‘Till we’re all together again.
Max:We might be gone for quite some time. Are you sure it’s safe leaving her here all alone?
Emily:Quite safe. Until we return, there is almost nothing that can awaken her… For your own good. You were in the deep end again, with no one to guide you. It’s so dangerous there, in the deep end. You get wild ideas, keep bad company. You’re much too far.
Max:Too far down.
Emily:In the deep end.
Max:We had to bring you back.
Emily:Someday you’ll understand. We’re only trying to protect you. Someday you’ll know what it’s like.
Max:She looks so lovely.
Emily:There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. After all—
Max:She never looked lovelier.
Emily:—she’s all we have. Goodnight, my darling.

Phase III: The Abduction

Historian: The coast is clear.

Phase III: The Abduction.

Song: Midnight Seranade (Come in the Night…)

Baal: Our love is a secret
Our love is a word
Something unspoken
But perfectly heard

Our love is a whisper
Our love is a breeze
Something always silent
Like the song of the leaves on the trees

Our love is a secret
Our love is a breeze
Something better left unspoken
Like the song of the leaves on the lonely trees

Come with me, and we know love
We’ll show you and we will teach you
Take my hand and learn from us
We’ll touch you and we will reach you

Come with me, and we know love
We’ll show you and we will teach you
Take my hand and learn from us
We’ll touch you and we will reach you

And you’ll know love forever
You’ll know love forever more
Forever more…

Baal & The Pack: Voyager now
Surveyor of ruins
Beautiful mutants
Voluptuous acrobats
Psychotic magicians
Mescaline cowboys
Renegade angels
Amphetamine prophets
Satanic lords
Celestial scavengers
Anarchist bike boys
Glittering gods and ravaging saviors
Unholy acrobats
Queens of the night
Rock and roll Aryans
Alchemical freaks

Voyager now!
Surveyor of ruins
Off to a million midnights
Black and black voyager
Off to a million tomorrows
Black and black
Seek and find the unchanged children
Send them back
Send them back

Baal:Let me take you away from all this.
Wendy:The sea is watching the sky, the sky is watching the sea. Nothing will ever happen. Nothing will ever happen.
Baal:You shouldn’t be so negative. Something will happen. I’m sure of it.

Our love is an ancient secret
Our love is a gentle breeze
Some things better left unspoken
Like the song of the leaves on the dying trees

Our love is an ancient secret
Our love is a gentle breeze
Some things better left unspoken
Like the song of the leaves on the dying trees

Baal:You’d like our home. Neverland. Listen… Wendy, listen!
Wendy:Please?
Baal:And Neverland feels… like this!

Song: Bat Out of Hell

Baal: The sirens are screaming and the fires are howling
Way down in the valley tonight
There’s a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye
And a blade burning oh so bright
There’s evil in the air and there’s thunder in the sky
And a killer’s on the bloodshot streets
And down in the tunnel where the deadly are rising
Oh, I swear I saw a young boy
Down in the gutter — he was starting to foam in the heat

Baby, you’re the only thing in this whole world
That’s pure and good and right
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There’s always gonna be some light
But I gotta get out, I gotta break it out now
Before the final crack of dawn
So we gotta make the most of our one night together
When it’s over, you know, we’ll both be so alone

Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
When the night is over, like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone, gone, gone
Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
When the day is done and the sun goes down
And moonlight’s shining through
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll come crawling on back to you

Wendy: Don’t leave me!

Baal: I’m gonna hit the highway like a battering ram
On a silver black phantom bike
When the metal is hot and the engine is hungry
And we’re all about to see the light
Nothing ever grows in this rotting old hole
Everything is stunted and lost
And nothing really rocks and nothing really rolls
And nothing’s ever worth the cost
And I know that I’m damned if I never get out
And maybe I’m damned if I do
But with every other beat I got left in my heart…
You know I’d rather be damned with you
If I gotta be damned you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night with you

Baal & Wendy: If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night with you!

Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
When the night is over
Like a bat out of hell, I’ll be gone, gone, gone
Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
When the day is done and the sun goes down
And moonlight’s shining through…

Baal: Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll come crawling on back to you
Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven
I’ll come crawling on back to you

[rapid-fire dialogue]

Baal:All the stories we could tell
Tink:All the young boys—
Baal:And all the young girls
Tink:Lured and enticed
Baal:Out of their rooms
Tink:Out of their homes
Baal:Beyond the asylum
Tink:Into the darkness
Baal:Into the reverie
Tink:Down to the deep end
Baal:Down to the deep end
Tink:Year after year
Baal:Lured and enticed
Tink:Lost boys
Baal:Lost girls
Tink:Year after year
Baal:Sooner or later—
Tink:—they’ll never grow up
Both:Sooner or later, they’ll never grow up
Wendy:Never grow up…

Baal:Destiny!

Baal: Well, I can see myself tearing up the road
Baal & Wendy: Faster than any other boy has ever gone
And my skin is raw but my soul is ripe
No one’s gonna stop me now — I gotta make my escape

Baal: But I can’t stop thinking of you
And I never see the sudden curve until it’s way too late
I never see the sudden curve till it’s way too late

Then I’m dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart — still beating
Breaking out of my body and flying away
Like a bat out of hell

Baal & Wendy: Then I’m dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike
Baal: And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart — still beating, still beating
Breaking out of my body and flying away
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell

Baal & Wendy: Like a bat out of hell

Baal:Now!

Emily:No! She’s gone! They’ve taken her! She’s gone!

Phase IV: The Initiation

Historian: And now, she must play a few games, pass a few tests with the other children.

Phase IV: The Initiation

[The pack repeats everything Wendy says.]

Wendy: I don’t want to be in this light alone
I don’t want to be in this light alone
I don’t want to be in this light alone…
What makes it so cold?
Why don’t they touch me?
I don’t want to be in this light alone
I don’t want to be in this light alone!

Baal:It’s all right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nice and still. I’ll guide you. See? Nothing. Still. We’re all here. We’re all watching. We’re all listening, all talking, all singing, all dancing. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all, anymore.
Wendy:Let me in.
Baal:Your eyes are empty. Empty space. There’s not much there.
Wendy:Let me in.
Baal:What makes you any different?
Wendy:What makes it so cold?
Baal:Why don’t they touch you?
Wendy:What makes them any different?
Baal:What makes you so cold?
Wendy:Nothing. Nothing at all anymore.
Baal:And what can you… offer us?
Wendy:Offer you? But I thought you said—
Baal:I know what I did. I know I did, I know. You misunderstood.
Wendy:No!
Baal:It’s a common mistake, it happens all the time around here. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Wendy:You offered me!
Baal:You don’t have to shout! I believe you. Not that I wouldn’t. Now what can you… offer us? Besides what we already have.
Wendy:Well, I… I… if I only understood what you already have.
Baal:Not very much. What are you offering?
Wendy:Well, maybe I could—
Baal:Oh, we’ve got that.
Wendy:Well, well then what if I—
Baal:Oh, we could use some of that, but not right now.
Wendy:Well, then maybe I have—
Baal:Oh, we used to have a whole lot of that, but we got tired of it.
Now, on the other hand, maybe you’d like to offer us a little—
Wendy:Oh, I wouldn’t do that, it’s not proper.
Baal:Well, then, how about some of your—
Wendy:Oh, that’s mine all right, but there’s so little left that I couldn’t spare it.
Baal:Well, then we wouldn’t mind a tiny taste of—
Wendy:Oh, I’ve got plenty of that, but you wouldn’t like it. Make you sick… Let me in. Look… My skin is white. Incredibly white. There are no scars on my body, you’ll have to make some.
Baal:How’d you get here?
Wendy:What?
Baal:How’d you get here?!?
Wendy:I did!
Baal:We all did! What makes you any different?
Wendy:Stop it!
Baal:What makes me so cold?
Wendy:I don’t know.
Baal:I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. Ask me for something.
Wendy:What do I need?
Baal:A hiding place?
Wendy:Oh, I do need a hiding place!
Baal:I’m sorry. There are no more hiding places. All the hiding places are hiding. Tell me about yourself.
Wendy:Well, what do you want to know?
Baal:Well, are you… anal, rectal, vaginal, oral, genital, bestial, hetero, homo, bi-, tri-, quatre-, cinq, six, sick, lonely, desperate, monolingual, bilingual, cunnilingual, passionate, poetic, barbarian, Cesarean, mammalian, cornucopian, horn of plenty, plenty horny??
Wendy:All right! Stop! What do you want me to say!
Baal:All of them!
Wendy:Yes, I am all of them! I am everything you want!
Baal:Aren’t you exhausted? Would you like to hear about a dream I had?
Wendy:I don’t know.
Baal:What do you know about mirrors?
Wendy:Nothing.
Baal:What makes you any different?
Wendy:Nothing.
Baal:Ah, c’mon, let me tell you about it. We’ve got all the time in the world.
Wendy:All right.

Baal:Good. That’s right.

I dreamt about them once. I dreamt about them a lot, over and over again, and now I can’t stop. Mirrors. An army of mirrors out of control. An army of mirrors out of control! Reflecting people to death. Reflecting people to death! To blindness, then death.

The mirrors kept getting larger, they kept growing, the kept swelling, they kept spreading out and I can’t seem to stop them. They’re still growing, and I can’t seem to stop them. I have to keep filling them up, I have to keep feeding them, and they are still getting larger … and larger. The mirrors have become vast and beautiful and very, very hungry. Hungrier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. Too hungry.

I no longer have any control over what they show me or what they see. I no longer have any control over the mirrors. They decide what they would like to reflect. They won’t obey me anymore!

They create a reflection, and then … then I have to go out and find the real thing that matches it. Yet almost always when I put the real thing in front of the mirrors, it is not nearly as beautiful as the reflection that came first.

I go out looking again, until finally I find another real thing, a thing that does match what’s inside the mirror, a thing that truly is worthy of the beautiful reflection that came first. But I almost never find it. The mirrors get even hungrier. Pretty soon, they’ll be ready to devour me. They’re going to tear me apart, they’re going to swallow me up, piece by piece, bit by bit, shiver by shiver, tremble by tremble, sliver and sliver, and splinter by splinter.

But you can help me. Please? They want you. Please? They’ve given me your image. Before I ever saw you, they gave me your image. Please?

I’d like to make you one of my reflections and feed you to the mirrors. Please? They only need one more to fill them up, and if it were you, I feel that they would be satisfied, as I would be. Please?

You have such a beautiful reflection. Don’t waste it.

Wendy:I bet you say that to all the girls.
Baal: Yeah.
Wendy:What did you have us do?
Baal:I just started.
Wendy:Yeah.
Baal:Your skin is white.
Wendy:Incredibly white.
Baal:There are no scars on your body.
Wendy:You’ll have to make some.
Baal:Yeah.

Baal:On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Wendy:Would he offer me his mouth?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Would he offer me his teeth?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Would he offer me his jaws?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Will he offer me his hunger?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Again, will he offer me his hunger?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:And will he starve without me?
Baal:Yes!
Wendy:And does he love me?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:I bet you say that to all the boys.

Baal:There. Listen. Now, catch up. Make it even. Make it exactly even with mine! Catch up! Speed! Don’t worry, it’ll be alright, I’m sure of it.
Wendy:Couldn’t we just try—
Baal:You promised!

Baal:I’m sorry.
Wendy:I forgive you.
Baal:First blood. Did it hurt very much?
Wendy:It’s not what I thought.
Baal:Please.
Wendy:Why did you do this?
Baal:Please.
Wendy:What was the point of it all?
Baal:I don’t know. I’ve forgotten. I remember reasons for a lot of the other stuff, but not this one. I’m sure it had a point, though. Probably a very good point.
Wendy:You can’t really tell me, can you?
Baal:No. Why should I? You didn’t have to do it. It was your idea. You were the one who wanted to do it in the first place! It was your idea. Listen.
Wendy:What is it?
Baal:Your body. So much louder than before. So much louder. Like mine. Exactly like mine now, racing like mine, together! Flying! Listen. They rhyme. You can hear our bodies rhyme!
Wendy:Maybe that was the point.
Baal:Maybe. … Oh, shit. Breathing’s no fun anymore.

Phase V: The Declaration of Devotion

Historian: Lades and gentlemen, has it come to this? Nature takes its course. There’s no doubt about it, they were doubly blessed, for they were barely 17 and they were barely dressed. They’re young and in love, and the whole world is springtime.

Phase V: The Declaration of Devotion. She is one of the pack.

Song: Heaven Can Wait

Wendy: Heaven can wait
And a band of angels wrapped up in my heart
Will take me through the lonely night
Through the cold of the day
And I know, I know
Heaven can wait
And all the gods come down here just to sing for me
And the melody’s gonna’ make be fly
Without pain, without fear

Give me all of your dreams
And let me go alone and away
Give me all of your prayers to sing
And I’ll turn the night into the skylight of day
I got a taste of paradise
I’m never gonna’ let it slip away
I got a taste of paradise
It’s all I really need to make me stay
Just like a child again

Heaven can wait
And all I got is time until the end of time
I won’t look back
I won’t look back
Let the altar shine

Historian:And now… the vows of love and union. I do hope it’s more than just mere infatuation.

Wendy:On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Baal:Will she offer me her mouth?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:Will she offer me her teeth?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:Will she offer me her jaws?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:Will she offer me her hunger?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:And will she starve without me?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:And does she love me?
Wendy:Yes.
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Will he offer me his hunger?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:And will he starve without me?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:And does he love me?
Baal:Yes.
Wendy:Yes.

Historian:On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses, ’till death do you part?
Baal & Wendy:Yes.
Wendy:We’ve only just begun.
Historian:[laughs]

Wendy: And I know that I’ve been released
But I don’t know to where
Nobody’s gonna tell me now
And I don’t really care
No, no, no
I got a taste of paradise
That’s all I really need to make me stay
I got a taste of paradise
If I had it any sooner you know
You know I never would have run away from my home

Heaven can wait
Oh, heaven can wait
I won’t look back
I won’t look back
Let the altar shine
Let the altar shine

Tink:Get rid of her now! It’s gone too far, she means too much to you! We don’t need her anymore! We never needed her! We’re finished with her! Get rid of her!
Baal:Shut him up!
Tink:I’ll find her parents! I’ll bring them here!
Baal:No!
Tink:They’ll take her back!
Wendy:Well, what are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? Go ahead, hunt him!

The Pack: Hunt him!

Phase VI: The Hunt

Historian: Phase VI: The Hunt! As if you couldn’t guess, into the black forest!

Song: The Hunt

instrumental

Baal:I was there on the freeway, looking in the dead cars for food. I didn’t find any. There were some bones, but no food. I want to sleep in the hulk of a big, black car.
Wendy:A limousine?
Baal:It’s just a black hulk. Nothing left but the dead metal. A carcass, an old corroded carcass.
Tink:There’s always bones down on the freeway. There’s always bones in the dead cars, but there’s never any food.
Wendy:A hearse. Maybe a hearse. A hearse is black.
Baal:Just a hulk. I started touching the metal, stroking it. Put my face up against it, like ice. But after a while, I swear I could hear that dead car dream. It was dreaming.
Wendy:An ambulance would be white.
Baal:All that scrap iron, weeping rust. That ugly trash, which could probably lay in a heap on that freeway forever. Still, that cold steel really burns to be a gun. It’s dreaming about coming to life again. Burning to be a gun. Someday, one more chance, burning to be a gun.

Max:I walked far beyond the boundaries of the city. I came to a beach at the edge of some water. It seemed the bright sun-white sky had shed the black ocean below it like a winter skin. Everything was so clear. I lay down and tried to remember what it felt like to be young. I tried to reassemble my youth in my mind, but it would not come back. It would never come back to my mind. Because, after all, that’s not where it was. That’s not where it was.

Historian: Max and Emily have lost their way! But, girding their loins for the task before them, they sing the Assassins’ Song, their bitter creed and fervent anthem.

Song: The Assasssins’ Song (Who Needs the Young)?)

Max: Who needs the young?
The revelation of the faces and their hair
When all we have are withered traces of the faces we once were
And suffocation in the dirty, fatal air
Who needs the young bodies floating in the sun?

Max & Emily: Who needs the young?
The celebration of the races that they’ve won
The sadomasochistic things we’ve never done
Disgusting!
And all the places that we never will have gone
Who needs the young bodies floating in the sun?
Who needs the young?

Max: My eyes just aren’t what they were
My eyes just aren’t what they were
My eyes just aren’t what they were
Is there anyone left who can see? Blind him!

Emily: My lips just aren’t what they were
My lips just aren’t what they were
My lips just aren’t what they were
Is there anyone left who can kiss? Spit on him!

Max: My legs just aren’t what they were
My legs just aren’t what they were
My legs just aren’t what they were
Is there anyone left who can dance? Cripple him!

Max:My mind just isn’t what it was
Emily:My mind just isn’t what it was
Both:My mind just isn’t what it was
Max:Is there anyone left who can dream?
Emily:Wake him!

Emily: My voice just isn’t what it was
My voice just isn’t what it was
My voice just isn’t what it was
Is there anyone left who can sing? Silence him!

Max:My sex just isn’t what it was
Emily:My sex just isn’t what it was
Both:My sex just isn’t what it was
Is there anyone left who can fuck? Screw him!

instrumental

Both: Who needs the young?
The perfect star of flesh that never has to cry
Who needs the filthy moaning passed from thigh to thigh?
Who needs the self-appointed prophets
Waving banners in the blood-shot sky?
Who needs the young
When we’re spending the rest of our wonderful lives learning to die?

Phase VII: The Manipulation

Historian: Calling out! Max and Emily make no progress as they face the possibility of ignominious failure. Is there nothing that will lure Baal and his pack into Obsidian where punishment awaits? Max tries a special tactic. Ladies and gentlemen, we meet Dr. Hook. He is a noted psychiatrist, coming in the name of reason.

Phase VII: The Manipulation.

Max: I find, my friends, that these kids are really fascinating people to meet and mingle with. I share their concern, their confusion, their hopes and disappointments. I think these young folks… no, let me change that, these young adults, truly do want to build a better world,find a better way to live in their own peculiarly naive, roundabout, sometimes misguided but basically idealistic way. I find contact with their fresh young minds embracing, invigorating. After all, we can recognize this phase in growing up. We were kids once, weren’t we? And though their styles and mannerisms and customs may have changed a great deal in the interim, underneath it all, boys and girls growing up have always been pretty much the same, haven’t they? And I have a fairly strong feeling inside that they’ll continue to be. There’s nothing here we can’t manage. Let’s try to communicate. At the beginning, at the point of ‘X’ where it starts. And I, as a trained and experienced doctor, have never had any trouble in the least in that area. After all, we have ways of making people communicate, don’t we? Nothing, Baal, nothing at all.
All I want—all we want—all any of us want—is a little peace of mind.
Baal:Who’s mind?
Max:Yours, Baal, just a little piece.
Baal:Which piece?
Max:Only the piece that threatens us.
Baal:Is that all?
Max:You see, I find that you’re basically unable to cope with human beings on a mature, civilized level. For example, your relationship with young girls, such as the one we saw a bit earlier; that dreadful initiation. You couldn’t get through to her on a personal basis, so you protected yourself behind sadistic games and rituals. They envelope you like… like…
Baal:Like a womb?
Max:No, not exactly. More like a womb. You built a barrier between you so you wouldn’t have to make real contact with a girl as a person equal to yourself. We could deal with it easily in treatment.
Baal:But I’m so happy just like I am.
Max:We first have to get you to redefine your distorted outlook on people. To begin with, a girl is a young woman, and a woman is more than a piece of merchandise to be evaluated in the pain. More than a prop in narcissistic ceremonies, more than a stanza in a poem to be memorized.
What is a woman, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked that. A woman is a proud, passionate, boiling river about to burst its banks.
Baal:What time do the banks open?
Max:We danced to Guy Lombardo after the last war, and we’ll dance to Guy Lombardo after the next war! It’s what clearly separates man from the animals. You can’t withdraw from reality! Sooner or later you have to negotiate with it.

Baal:Max, show me your numbers.
Max:Don’t look at me. Stop! I could buy you.
Baal:Show me your numbers.
Max:I could buy you, do you hear? I could buy you.
Baal:Show me your numbers! Show me your numbers!
Max (breaking into a bad German accent): All right! There. Look! A feast for the eyes. You knew my secret. 1-5-7-3-8-9-6. My precious souvenir. Auschwitz, Dachau, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck. Four years. Four years! Auschwitz, Dachau, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck. 1-5-7-3-8-9-6! Auschwitz, Dachau, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck.
Baal:You sound like a cheerleader.
Max:You wanted to see! All right, look! See how they stare right at you. Sometimes at night, I can feel them crawling up and down my arms, biting like they’re insects. There. My hideous memories forever engraved on my wrists.
Baal:Well, I really see no need to be so melodramatic.
Max: [screams]
Baal:Back, you bloodsucker! What, this? I found it down on the freeway. There were a lot of them. Maybe they were used in a movie. Maybe not. That’s official because it wasn’t saved. Max:What are you doing with that wretched thing?
Baal:Playing with it. I dunno’, I like the way it looks, and the shape, the way it looks and feels.
Max:And what it stands for, I saw too.
Baal:I could care less. I’ve heard rumors of course. But it doesn’t matter. Anyway. It’s just a piece of junk. Just a pretty toy, someone else’s toy, way before my time. Somebody else’s children. Somebody else. It’s been used.
Max:You disgust me. There is more to that subject than the whinings of a self-indulgent adolescent. There is more to that subject than the droolings of a spoiled artist! There is more to your fantasies than your toys. There is more!
Baal:There is always more!
Max:There is also truth! My truth. Here. 1-5-7-3-8-9-6. You’ll never know such horror. Your dreams are petty compared to this. This was really on a big scale. I’d like to give you, just once, a fraction of the pain that I was given. You should be tested as I was.
Baal:You want to send all your children to camp?
Max:It would do you good! The beauty of total and complete control of life. Everything was so clear. And I understood it all perfectly! For the first time in my life, I felt the great sense of form. Ah, there was a grand design, and I was a part of it.
Baal:Max.
Max:The camps were the best thing that ever happened to me! Beyond any doubt, I proved myself.
Baal:I have nothing to prove to you!
Max:You have everything in the world to prove! I’ve earned everything I have! This city belongs to me, I am the city. I am Obsidian and I am proud of it. Once, I was trapped like an animal, but now I know I’m trapped like a man, and now I could buy you.
Baal:Fuck off.
Max:Four years in death camps, is that worth nothing to you?
Baal:Fuck the Jews.
Max:What?
Baal:Fuck all the old races, I wish they’d just die away! They’ve been around too long.
Max:And there’ll be any new races to take their place?
Baal:Something will turn up. Something always does.
Max:I survived!
Baal:All of you, or maybe just a piece of you? Maybe just the piece that threatens us?
Max:I have a right to control you! A right to own you! This is my right! This is my proof! Where are your numbers? Where is your proof?
Baal:Stop it!
Max:Show me your numbers! Show me your numbers!
Baal:Well, I’m sorry I built the whole thing up.
Max (no more accent):I’m afraid I got a little… out of hand there.
Baal:Think nothing of it. Anything else?
Max:Yes, there is something. Actually, it’s what I wanted to speak to you about before, uh… Before—
Baal:—you got carried away.
Max:Exactly. Baal, do you remember these pictures? They fascinated you as a child. You must be getting bored out of your mind now. Here, look at them again. Do you remember them? Saint Sebastian, dying in the pride of his youthful glory, arrows piercing his pure and silk flesh. And see how the blood shines over his body? Like a rose garden drenched in sunlight. All the young gods whose blood must be shed. Marvel. I’m offering you a chance for a spectacular marvel. Attain the glory of Saint Sebastian! It’s yours. We have the resources to deliver. All the media will be at your disposal, and dying could be an awfully great adventure.
Baal:You’re forgetting one thing, Max. They all had a reason. That’s the whole point. You see, there’s nothing I believe in like that.
Max:True. But a mere technicality. Surely we can’t worry about details like that. You may have no cause, but you can have an effect, and I’m here to offer it to you. We’re no more interested in reasons than you are. It’s the image that holds. That’s what they remember. That’s what you want. The zap, the flash, the rush. Come to Obsidian. You could have a great culmination, worthy of your finest dreams. Sooner or later, you’ll never grow up.

Historian: You’ll have to do it, Baal. It’s the way I planned it. If you don’t, I’ll never come up with a really exciting finale. The people demand that of me. They know it’s what I do really best, wipe things out with flare. Without that particular talent, I, I think I’d be out of a job. It is funny, I have a terribly difficult time making lives interesting, but death does always come naturally to me. Especially in large numbers. Although admittedly I always feel perfectly dreadful the next morning. But that too passes.

Max: Nothing to lose, and it’s something new.

Historian: Go ahead, give them what they want! It’s the only way.

Baal:How will it be done?
Max:How all things suddenly get over with. Unique. It’ll look good.
Baal:Yes. You’re right. There’s nothing I’d really like to burn down out here.
Max:What does that have to do with anything?
Baal:Just thinking. Nothing I’d like to burn down out here. I’ve always loved the look of fire. Makes such a fine backdrop.
Max:Who said anything about fire?
Baal:I did. The colors, I love the way they always change.
Max:Now hold on a second.
Baal:There’s a lot to burn down in a city!
Max:Now, I really think we should keep this whole thing simple and stark. We don’t want to clutter it.
Baal:I’ve always wanted to be a part of a good fire! A really big fire!

Historian: A fire, I like it. It adds a little… j’ne c’est quois.

Max:Now hold on a second! There’s not gonna’ be any fire in the city! There’s not gonna’ be—
Baal:Shut up, Max.

Historian: Yeah, shut up, Max.

Max:Really, how rude.
Baal:You get what you want, he gets what he wants, and we get… we get what’s coming to us!

Historian: That sounds perfectly lovely.

Max:But fire can get so out of control!
Baal:Right, that’s the idea!
Max:I won’t allow it! You can’t burn down Obsidian!

Historian: Oh, don’t be such a nit.

Baal: We’ve upset him. He looks a little warm.

Historian: He looks a bit warm, if you ask me.

Baal:Fire!
Historian:Fire!

Max:You can’t, it’s rude!
Baal:It’s the colors I love!
Max:Emily!

Historian: Ladies and gentlemen, to close the first act, Baal and his pack sing a challenge to the gods and a hymn to fire, the one element in nature that illuminates as it destroys.

Song: Gods

Historian:On this planet
Historian & Baal:On this planet
Historian:A child with a dream needs luck
Historian & Baal:A child with a dream needs luck Historian: Only if someone with power can help him
Only if someone with power can help him
Can he make all his dreams come true
Good children — lost children — mad children!
They’re locked from themselves
And they’re not in a place for anyone else

Historian & Baal: Why can’t the God’s up in heaven assemble
An army of battleships, soldiers, and mines
To lift up the good and make bad people tremble
Things might then be better for the Gods and mankind?!

Wendy, Historian & Baal: Why can’t the God’s up in heaven assemble
An army of battleships, soldiers, and mines
To lift up the good and make bad people tremble
Things might then be better for the Gods and mankind?!

Historian & Baal: Good children — good children
They’ll not stay good for long
On this planet — on this planet
Their souls are empty and bodies must be fed
No! No!
The commandments of God do not help in the face of need!

The Pack: Oh why don’t the heavenly Gods find a warrior
To lead them in combat and battle at last
To slaughter the heathen the ugly the useless
To lift up the future and to banish the past?!

Oh why don’t the heavenly Gods find a warrior
To lead them in combat and battle at last
To slaughter the heathen the ugly the useless
To lift up the future and to banish the past?!

Historian: Mad children — mad children
On this planet — on this planet
Where the old Gods turn to dust
Where the old Gods turn to dust
You must make yourself a new God
You must make yourself a new God!

Historian & Baal: You must make yourself a God
You must make yourself a God!
And you cannot love, you must only worship
You cannot love, you must only worship

And you must only worship yourselves
You must only worship yourselves
With the strength of the pack behind you
With the strength of the pack behind you!

Historian: And you cannot hold one man together
You cannot hold one man together

Historian & Baal: You cannot hold one man together
Without tearing twelve others to bits!

The Pack: Why don’t the Gods take a look at the earth again
And give honest children the world they desire
Send soldiers and tanks to lift up the holy ones
And attack all the other with cannons and fire?!

Why don’t the Gods take a look at the earth again
And give honest children the world they desire
Send soldiers and tanks to lift up the holy ones
And attack all the other with cannons and fire?!
Fire! Fire! Fire!

Historian: Phase VIII: Intermission.

Phase IX

Song: Dance In My Pants
Song: The Maladiction (Hushabye)
Song: Kingdom Come

[The recording resumes with “The Want Ad”:]

Wendy: This is addressed to all the people who have answered or are thinking of answering the personal ad I placed in volume 2, number 15, two weeks ago Friday.

First, my apologies to the huge bartender with the voice and the light-hearted, dark-skinned advertising man. If either of you had called back, I might not be writing this retraction of my ad, even though I will soon be too busy to date much, but why didn’t you call back?

But to the others, which includes the two lesbians; the under 25s and over 40s; the numerous ones who dialed my number and hung up as soon as I said hello; the 35 or 40 of you who made dates with me and never showed up, including the one that complained his penis was so large that he couldn’t get it into anybody; the wife-seekers, the already married; that one that was so one-sided that he could think nothing of sex, then had the gall to ask me if his nationality was the reason why I wouldn’t sleep with him; the two who couldn’t raise their cocks when I was agreeable, and the many who could and did when I was not; the pleasant young foreigner who ended up being the private property of his gigantic girlfriend; the ones who were so grotesque in their appearance that I couldn’t possibly consider a relationship with them, especially sexual; the jerk-off artists and the 69ers (the latter category which I specifically said I didn’t want!); and the ones that wanted hand jobs, the ones who wanted to be spanked, the ones that could only boast about the size of their bank rolls and/or their penises (and this definitely includes the teacher who said, "All the girls want my cock!"); the businessman who had an adjective for every letter of his last name ("r is for rich"); the ones, and there were many, who said "my name is so and so, when can we get together and fuck?"; the fag who wanted me to support him; the diminutive actor and the other short ones; the racists, including the one at whose home I left me right sweater (and I’d rather cut off my right thumb than go back for it!); the drunks, junkies, and pillheads, the multitudes of liars, and especially the nice ones who never called back.

To all of you, I say: just forget my phone number! I don’t need all the hassles! I’ll be started school next month and I just don’t want to be bothered.

Don’t call my ad, any of you!

Sincerely, the underweight platinum blonde.

Phase X: Baal’s Delerium and Visions of Neverland

Historian: Phase X: Baal’s Delirium and Visions of Neverland.

Baal: They asked me where the earthquake would begin. I offered to let them feel my pulse. They asked me what I was doing out there. On the edge. They asked me what I was doing out there on the edge. Balancing myself, I told them. Balancing myself.

Historian: Half the world is insane, the other half is scared, and who knows which came first or which will finish last?

Baal: The entire city is burning. We see the flames like the inside of a mad jukebox, lighting and striking itself. Lost boys stalk the streets with jungle markings on their chest. Barbarians prowl in the shadows, their heads dropping in rows. Motorcycles reproduce in nocturnal alleys, groaning in greasy pleasure. And they’ve blown up the YWCA like a giant balloon, and sent it out to sea, full of screaming, lovely, lonely girls.
All revved up with no place to go.

I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar. I don’t remember if it was a Stratocaster or a Telecaster, but I do remember that it wasn’t at all easy. It required the perfect combination of the precise power chords and the correct angle from which to strike. The guitar bled for about a week afterwards, but it rung out beautifully, and I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before.

Wendy: I’m gonna’ hit the highway like a battering ram on a silver black Phantom bike. When the metal is hot and the engine is hungry and we’re all about to see the light

Baal: And I’m dying at the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell

Historian: Escape from where?
Baal:I don’t know.
Historian: Escape to where?
Baal:I don’t know!
Historian: Does it matter? Does it matter?
Baal:Escape.

[singing]

But I can’t stop thinking of you.

[speaking]

Thinking of who? I can’t remember. I can’t ever need to remember who it is I can’t stop thinking about.

[singing]

And I never see the sudden curve ’till it’s way too late.
I never see the sudden curve ’till it’s way too late.

[speaking]

Voyager now
Surveyor of ruins
Beautiful mutants
Voluptuous acrobats
Psychotic magicians
Mescaline cowboys
Renegade angels
Amphetamine prophets
Satanic lords
Celestial scavengers
Anarchist bike boys
Glittering gods and ravaging saviors

Baal & Wendy: Unholy acrobats
Queens of the night
Rock and roll Aryans
Alchemical freaks

Voyager now
Surveyor of ruins
Off to a million midnights
Black, black voyager
Off to a million tomorrows
Black and black
Seek and find the unchanged children
Send them back
Send them back

Historian: America was not discovered by Columbus. America is still a secret land, as yet undiscovered by anyone. And this land, which has been trampled, dumped on, stepped on, torn apart, blasted out, weeping up, widdled down, dragged over, hauled under, punched in, and throttled; forbidden, divided, twisted, deluded, distorted and perverted. Plundered, pillaged, banished, bought, sold, resold, bought again, and sold again through one century after another, conscious and unconscious. This land will never die and never surrender. This Neverland will always be here, and will always be clutched desperately by somebody, like a crucifix in the stiff hand of a dead man.

The Pack: Seek and find the unchanged children
Send them back
Send them back

Historian:Reality is infected. It has been cut too much. Too many amputations and impurities, abscessed, indefinitely gangrenous. Reality is in agony. It should be put out of its misery. Is there nobody left with the grace to try euthanasia?

Phase XI: The Annihilation

Historian: Phase XI: The Annihilation!

Song: The Annihilation

instrumental

Historian:Lower. We can barely get over the bodies. It’s so much warmer than you’d expect. Everyone is satisfied, or at least satiated.

Baal:Sir, why did we do this?
Historian:I don’t know.
Baal:What was the whole point of it all?
Historian: I’ve forgotten. I remember the reasons for a lot of the others, but… not this one. I’m sure it did have a point, once, when the whole thing first came to me. Anyway, it was your idea to go ahead. You were the one who wanted to do it in the first place, I only made suggestions, recommendations.
Baal:I’m not complaining.
Historian:I understand.
Baal:You really can’t help me, can you?
Historian:I’m sorry.
Baal:I forgive you. I never really did see Neverland, did I?
Historian:I can’t forgive you. I can’t forgive anyone, that’s why I’ve lived so long.
Baal:You don’t understand. You don’t have to forgive me.
Historian:I beg your pardon?
Baal:I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry.
Historian:You’ll catch your death of cold kneeling there like that.
Baal:I didn’t know blood was this sweet.
Historian:Ketchup or blood? Ketchup or blood, and what’s the difference? It’s all madness, anyway. And in madness, as well as in dreams, it’s not how far out you go, or what you see out there. It’s what you bring back. Give them time.

Baal:Sir?
Historian:Yes?
Baal:Good night.
Historian:Give them time.

Phase XII: Baal and Wendy Are Old: The Regeneration

Historian: Phase XII: Baal and Wendy are Old. The Regeneration.

Wendy:Max, listen. It’s Wendy in her room. Crying, she’s crying.
Baal:Yes, I hear it.
Wendy:We should go to her. She’s all we have. Something’s wrong.
Baal:Yes, I know that.
Wendy:We should go to her. Listen, there’s somebody there.
Baal:Yes, I hear.
Wendy:There’s somebody with her now, they got in, they got past the barricade.
Baal:Yes, I know that.
Wendy:It’s him, isn’t it? It’s him, he’s finally come; he’s finally here.
Baal:Well, we’ve expected it, haven’t we? We knew he’d come someday.
Wendy:So soon. So much sooner than we thought.

Young Baal:Baal. My name is Baal. Listen. Listen to it. The deep end. Down in the deep end. Lost boys are waiting. You know you’ve got to follow. You know you’ve got to go along.

Wendy:She’s leaving!

Young Baal:Sooner or later, you’ll never grow up.

Wendy:They’re getting away now!

Young Baal:Neverland.

Baal:It’s all right. It’ll all be the same. Nothing really ever changes. Or can it? The sea is watching the sky, the sky is watching the sea, nothing will ever happen.
Wendy:Nothing will ever happen.
Baal:It’s all right.
Wendy:If only—
Baal:Shh!
Wendy:If only—
Baal:Quiet! They’ll be back eventually. Just like all the others. Give them time.
Wendy:Oh, I’m so cold, Max. Are you there?
Baal:Always, Emily. Always.

Historian:Ladies and gentlemen, while we still have time — IF we still have time, please, let’s make our cemeteries safe for our children.

Good night.