2011 Book #22: STEAMBATH by Bruce Jay Friedman

OLDTIMER. My time, eh? (At R. pillar.) Well that's OK. I done everything. I once had a pair of perfectly matched wooden-legged frauleins powder me from head to toe and dress me in silk drawers. (Moves to TANDY, pats him on the shoulder.) I bumped up against a Greek sailor walking around for thirty years with a lump on his chest he took to be a natural growth. Turned out to be the unborn foetus of a twin brother he'd spent all his life hankering for. (Crosses back to C.) I seen most everything. I dipped my beak in Madrid, Spain; Calcutta, India; Leningrad, Russia, and I never once worried about them poisoning the water. I had myself the fifth richest woman in Sidney, Australia, genuine duchess she was, all dressed up in a tiger suit; and by the time I finished with her I had them stripes going the wrong way. I played a pretty good trumpet. I had to face the fact that I was no Harry James, but then again Sir Harry couldn't go in there and break up a Polish wedding the way I could. I talked back to the biggest guys. Didn't bother me. I didn't care if it was me way down in the valley, hollering up at Mt. Zion. I'd holler up some terrific retorts. You're not going to show me anything I haven't seen. I paid my dues. And I'll tell you something else. If there's anything in there kicks me, you watch and see if I don't bite. (Hitches himself up with great dignity and does an old bum's dance, then a proud old man's walk toward the D.  L. door. As he approaches, it slowly, silently opens and the desolate sound of wind is heard. He enters and the door closes behind him.)

—from Steambath by Bruce Jay Friedman