SUNDAY ON THE JOB WITH WEISS
(apologies to S. Sondheim)
*not* Marith's fault
all Truth's fault
really





(Curtain rises on the interior/exterior of an office building.  Weiss and
Schwarz are separately staking the place out, waiting for the target to
arrive. ) 


NAGI, peering down through a skylight:  It's hot up here.


KEN, waiting on the roof:  It's hot and it's monotonous.


YOUJI, sulking in the car across the street with AYA:  I want my SUNGLASSES.


SCHULDICH,  lounging in a tree reading a police sheet:  This is not
          my good profile.


OMI, lying in a ventilation duct:  (smugly) Nobody can even *see* my profile.


FARFARELLO, held in check by Crawford:  I hate this leash.


NAGI:  I hope Estet has forgotten us.


CRAWFORD, annoyedly:  The madman _twitches_. 


AYA, to YOUJI:  Balinese, you are completely out of proportion. 


KEN:  These bugnuks weigh a lot on us.   I mean, on me. 


SCHULDICH:  This tree is blocking my view.


OMI:  I can't see anything. 


CRAWFORD:  Why are they complaining?  I foresee we need training. 


FARFARELLO:  I hate all people. 


ALL:   It's hot up here
       A lot up here.
       We're not up here
       Together.

       A lot of blood 
       There'll be up here
       Once he gets here
       To start the fight
       
       There's nothing much
       To do up here
       With you up here
       Forever.

       It's not my fault
       I got this job
       It's not this job 
       I want each night.

YOUJI, to OMI:  Omi-chan, don't whistle through your teeth over the comm.
                _Thank_ you. 

SCHULDICH:  It's dull up here.


OMI:  At least you have telepathy.

SCHULDICH, NAGI, FARFARELLO, CRAWFORD: Well look who's talking, 
      chatting on the comm!


FARFARELLO, politely, to CRAWFORD:  I trust my knives aren't bothering
       you.  Unfortunately they're never quite sharp enough.  (scraaaaape)


SCHULDICH, to YOUJI:  Want to get together again?


KEN, to NAGI:  See, I told you they were "odd". 


AYA, to YOUJI:  Don't slouch.


YOUJI:  You took my SUNGLASSES.


CRAWFORD to FARFARELLO:  You've been eating something garlic.


YOUJI: I got all dressed up today, too...


KEN, to AYA:  Don't you ever get a life?


SCHULDICH:  Nagi, float me a drink.


NAGI:  Fat chance.


YOUJI: At least the kid is doing recon.


OMI:  I heard that!


SCHULDICH, to AYA:  Do you like tall grass?


AYA: _Hah_.


NAGI: Schu!


CRAWFORD: Bunch of amateurs...


FARFARELLO:  I hate these people.


ALL:  It's hot up here
      And strange up here  
      The change up here's
      Not hard to find.  
	
      We're enemies
      And then it's "please"
      And he's a tease 
      But I don't mind. 


KEN:  I like the one in the tight pants.


AYA:  Dear Aya-chan,
      I don't want you to see me like this
      Aya-chan,
      Sword in my hand,
      Please understand
      The flower shop's one thing 
      But then this night job  
      And my coworkers... 
      
      They'll fight for fighting's sake, 
      And brood on things and angst 
      But at least now you're awake, 
      And safe somewhere with Manx
      So thank goodness for that

      (eyes Youji wistfully)

      And for the prat...

 
NAGI: It's hot up here.


KEN: It's hot and it's monotonous.


YOUJI:  I want my SUNGLASSES!


SCHULDICH:  This is not my good profile.


FARFARELLO:  I hate this leash.


OMI:  I think Persia has forgotten us.


AYA:  Don't slouch!


CRAWFORD:  Amateurs...


SCHULDICH, to AYA:  No really, I've got some good grass...


YOUJI:  (fliffs hair sulkily)  I put in mousse today, too.


NAGI, to CRAWFORD:  Don't _you_ ever get a life?


KEN, sarcastically:  It's good to be together again.


SCHULDICH, to NAGI:  Ah, gimme a break kid, one drink...


OMI: It's hot in here.


FARFARELLO: It's hot and you're monotonous.


YOUJI:  You took my SUNGL- (AYA smacks him, then kisses him)


SCHULDICH:  This is not my good profil - hey, what are they doing?


ALL:   And furthermore
       Finding you're 
       Gay now 
       Is very outre now
       And god, I am so hot!
       Well, there are worse things than waiting
       For a target on a Sunday
       There are worse things than waiting for a target


CRAWFORD:  When you're being paid in millions
           And off to the Riviera


OMI:   And you know you're fighting evil


SCHULDICH:  And you look good in a trenchcoat


FARFARELLO:  Even if they won't untie you


NAGI:  And you're listening to drivel


AYA:  And you lust for your companion


YOUJI:  And your sunglasses have been stolen


KEN:  And you're bored beyond endurance


SECURITY GUARD, hiding in the building:  And you're petrified with terror


CRAWFORD, to FARFARELLO:  And you're drooling


FARFARELLO:  So what?


OMI:  You're blowing this out of proportion


SCHULDICH:  And I hate these people!


ALL: 	We'll never get
	A break out here
	The stakes out here
	Are too high.

	Retirement's
	Got this requirement,

CRAWFORD:  (shrugs) If you're not a killer, then you'll die.


ALL:    Most ethics don't
	Make sense out here
	It's tense out here
	Forever.

 	The outward pose
        Of cool out here
	Fools no one but 
        It's all we've got 

(Finally a door in the stage right side of the building opens and 
 the target shuffles in.  It's a little old lady in a purple dress and
 a hat with flowers, tapping her cane along.  Everyone grabs for their 
 weapons and prepares to unleash death on her.)

(She totters her way to center stage, puts a hand to her chest and says
 vaguely, "Oh. My heart?" and falls to the ground.   The security guard
 comes out from under the desk to bend over her.) 

SECURITY GUARD:  Ma'am?   Ma'am?

EVERYONE ELSE slumps in disappointment.  

ALL: 	And it's hot!



* * *