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A fragment, started at SRI.
Set: a masculine apartment, rather a mess, clothes and books lying around, tape recorder half-played, flute on table, self-paintings on wall, foot-high nude on fairly hidden table. Buzzer buzzes once. Short pause. The door to the apartment is open, but only a blank hall is seen outside. Kitchen is off right; bath is off left. Door buzzes twice, pause, sound of feet coming upstairs and walking toward door. Carl is young; Jim is older.
CARL: (off) God! John! (last few steps running) (Shuffle in hall, and Carl drags John, with bloody head, mainly hidden from audience, fresh blood on Carl's sleeve. Carl drags John behind sofa, out of vision of audience, and stands up, looking down, amazed and confused. He goes to phone, looks concerned, dials, waits).
CARL: Jim? This is Carl. Look, I'm at John's, something's happened. John's been hurt. He---he looks like he's been beaten. He---might be dead. Do you know a DOCTOR I could call? God, Jim, you've lived here for YEARS, and you don't know ANY doctor? Right! He'd know what to do. Look, CALL him, get him to come over. I'll see what I can do here. ---Yeah---Yeah, I know (exasperated). Look, CALL him. ---Bye.