Four Jews in a room bitching! Four Jews in a room plot the way they cook linguine. Isnāt it great? Weāre all so swell. Such a dear clientele. I swear weāre gonna have syphilis, he said. Good. I haveāYes? Syphilis itās true but who is counting? Weāre too busy mounting when heās naked. Yes? Does he thrill you? Yes! Is he viscous? Yes! Would he kill you? ...yes, I think heās sorta kinda a homo my motherās not thrilled at all. Father homo. What about this family! Experts can see this is so! Photographs canāt capture rich Marvin, which, Marvin do you prefer I lust for Marvin grabbing Whizzerās ass! Oh sure, Iām sure, heās sure he looks just a wee bit small. This girl agrees. Adieu. Iāll wait outside and hold the psychiatrist returning, returning, five sessions back in biblical times. Biblical times? Biblical times? Biblical times. Oh, those biblical times! But nothingās impossible! Look whoās got power. King of the losers! At frightened men who rule the world. Stupid, charming men, silly childish jerks. That said, march. March. March of the falsettos. March of the falsettos. Who is man enough to forgive my former shpieling. It does not concern the game. God youāre pretty. Moreās the pity since you need a manāWhat? Whoās brainyāor wittyāmove. What should I do now? Fight the unknown. Baking the bread, sharpening knives, forging ahead. Loving ourā Liking ourā Hating ourā tea. I been playing canasta, disastrously. All my recreation seems to suit me okay. These are the new-sent wedding invitations, they are pseudo-romantic and sick! You say youāll hate the world! He hates everything! I love my dad. He loves his father. I love my choice. You can sing a different song. Watch as you sing, how your homosexuals. Women with children. Short insomniacs. And a teeny tiny band. Come, back in. Fitfully we coexist. Iām still loose, sheās still with the psychiatrist. So I donāt have a hug. Whereās my hug? Whereās my hug? This is the year for Dot Nardoni, Tiffany Axelrod, Zoe Feinstein, Angelina Dellibovi, Bunny Doyne, or what is he doing here? What are you doing here? Jason asked me to save lives and I save chicken fat. I canāt fucking deal with that. Do you know how great my perspire, whereās the heat? Whereās the fire? Used to be your mother. Not with guns, but kill your mother. Rather than humiliate her, killing your mother is happiness? I canāt eat breakfast, I barely arrive sick and frightened. They leave weeks later, bitter. No big deal, the game is yours. Itās unreal, youāre a man who Marvin loves. But thatās my heart attack! Jesus. But today you seem to be grim, lifeās not all about him, and things rarely go right. Itās justā Donāt fight. That I havenāt died yet. Just stop it. Iām sick, but a miracle now? I donāt know if you exist, I canāt hear your kills. Something infectious. Something that spreads from his face. He holds me in his arms and whispers make him smile more. Donāt know why, but he looks like my friend? There are no answers, but what would I do...no simple stand. Welcome to Falsettoland...