Untitled Farce

-Tim! Get the door would you?
-Alright Charlotte, okay!
-Just hurry up and get the fucking door would you!
-Certainly, you wizened old whore...
-What was that?
-Nothing darling! Oh! Look who's here to see us! It's Murray! Murray's here to see us!
(Applause
Murray staggers into the room in drag, dancing frenetically if a little drunkenly...
Tim aims a few jovially playful punches at Murray's shoulder, increasing in intensity until he winds up administering a thoroughly sound thrashing. Murray shrieks with delight.
-Tim! What are you doing to Murray!
-Pummelling him within inches of his life, dear.
-What was that?
-I said administering a spot of the old GBH.
-Oh. Well I do wish you wouldn't; it's thoroughly nasty behaviour and the slaves don't care for it too much.
-I'll decide what they enjoy.
Charlotte simpers.
-Such cruelty. Such strength. Such brutality.
-I'll fucking decide what they'll enjoy.
And with that Tim partially removes his trousers, sits on Murray's head, and expels a thick turd.
-Are you shiteing on the slave's head again dear?
-Yah!
-Oh I do wish you wouldn't. Frightfully unhygienic, not to mention unpleasant...
-But this little cunt fucking loves it!
-What strange things he enjoys.
Charlotte shakes her head in sad wonderment.
-Well darling, he is a nasty little whore, rememba?
-Oh yah, I suppose. What a terrible shame...
-Yah, it is a tad regrettable. Here, come watch him eat the shite...
-A grotesque spectacle if ever I witnessed one!
-You've witnessed plenty my love, since marrying me.
-This is true.

An animal being born. Millions of stars in the sky. The silent horror of gazing into an existential void.