Louise and I had gone to see a play at the Southern Methodist University in Dallas. We walked into the auditorium and sat down in some portable chairs in the front row. The whole place seemed to be improvised and impermanent. Probably about 40 other people were in the audience when the play began.

The actors were all men. They were only wearing beige shorts and looked nude. I thought the play was both obscene and absurd. I didn't know what Louise thought about it, but I was rather offended by the whole production. At one point all the male actors began holding green pickles in front of themselves as if they were penises. The actors ran among the audience. One of the actors had a bucket of ice and dumped it in the lap of someone sitting in the back of the audience.

Some people, who apparently couldn't take any more, stood up to leave. I felt as if we should also leave to show our disdain for the whole affair. I grabbed Louise's arm and we both stood up. We walked outside where we saw the person who had had the ice thrown in his lap. He was a little boy (about 10 years old). Apparently he had known it was going to happen, but he still hadn't been prepared for the full impact of it.

I began to have second thoughts about whether we should have watched the play to the end. We looked back inside through a window in the door. All the actors were on the stage holding up their hands and people in the audience were applauding. The play had apparently ended and we hadn't really missed anything by walking out. Louise agreed with me that we needed to leave.

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