[spotlight slowly up to full power, center stage]

[a bare set with a creaky college rocking chair, Cato snoozing, open book on lap, half-smoked cigar in ashtray, a bottle of 60-year-old whiskey and a tumbler with melted ice on a side table]

Cato [snores, then wakes with a start]:

“Wait, what? Pull the string?”

[fumbles for cigar, starts to light it, puts it back down, calls “Haku!” twice, a dog appears, stage left]

Cato: “There you are!”

[Haku stretches, yawns, makes a play-bow, then sits to get his head scratched]

Cato: “I had this dream, boy. I was all covered in bits of string and yarn, and I couldn’t get up. Then I heard a voice saying ‘Pull the red one!’ So I did. And the whole web fell away, and it was just me and this string, so I pulled, but it wouldn’t give. Then I started following it, and I went through about five volumes of horrible” [shudders] “adventures on some island someplace. And at the end of it all was - no! It’s too awful! But I can trust you, right, boy? You won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say! At the end was…the head of L. Ron Hubbard in a jar.”

[weeps]

[fade to black]