_(The stage is set: tall grass stretches endlessly. The dim light of dawn creeps across the horizon. A soldier crouches, rifle in hand, as motionless as the air around him.)_

**SOLDIER**_ (whispering to himself)_:

I'm but a man of entertainment.

My rifle is as light as a microphone,

and I’d rather tell a joke

than take a life.

_(He glances down, feeling the weight of the rifle in his hands.)_

_(Silence. He swallows hard, the earth shifts under him.)_

_(His finger hovers over the trigger. The moment is suspended, but the shot comes—sudden, final.)_

_(The sun cracks open like an eye.)_

_(The soldier stands, rifle lowered, eyes fixed on the body in the distance. He looks up.)_

**SOLDIER**_ (muttering, barely audible):_

Oh, evil thing,

what else have you seen?

What else do you know?

_(Overhead, there is the faint hum of wings.)_

_(He imagines an angel.)_

**SOLDIER **_(angry)_:

Oh yes, save him.

Take him away.

Get him out of here. _ _

_(The soldier pauses, then slowly turns to the audience.) _

**SOLDIER **_(emotionless):_

Are you entertained?

_(The light fades. The soldier remains standing, alone. The curtain begins to close.)_

Cue applause.