by John O'Keefe
Sound of an EKG. going flatline. Morivia's Intro. Music.
(The lights slowly rise on MORIVIA Sowolicka.* She is beautiful in a deathly way; pale and gaunt. Her voice is low and smoky and brutal. She strips as she sings. She has an East European accent.)
(The lights cross fade to HESS KRATOR* and DERN VØRDIGGER.* They are sitting at a hash bar. Krator is taken with Morivia. He gazes at her fading image. They both speak with Dutch accents. In the land of Deatherians men wear make-up, just as women do. They are both cararying guns. Everybody in Amsterdam carries guns, they're like swords in the old days. Jerry*, a hunchback hustler, enters with a tray of joints.
Goddamn, stinking, dripping shit all over himself. It was disgusting. Beyond my professional powers. I hated him, Krator, even if he was insane. (To Jerry) Give me a joint.
(Jerry hands Vørdigger a joint and lights it as he speaks.)
You want another expresso, boss?
If I want one I'll let you know, you ugly little tick.
Sure, boss. (To Krator indicating Morivia) You like that woman, no? She a doll.
Get away from me.
Sure boss. You got tip.
(Krator tosses a coin on the tray.)
(Jerry exits with tray.)
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