WOMAN—(She reaches out one trembling hand and touches his hair. No reaction from the reclining figure, so she moves half a step closer) Well, look. I know you're upset about your slump and all. But golly, Boogie, I....
BOOG—(Turns his head slightly and looks at her) I am not upset about my hitting. In fact, I am hitting what I expected to hit.
WOMAN—(Fondly, not really listening to him) You know, Boog, you used to like it when I ran my fingers through your hair....
(Music up, softly)
BOOG—(Unmoved) I can't feel a thing.
(Music up full and the little woman comes to stage center and in a pink spotlight sings)
WOMAN—IS IT ME; OH, CAN IT TRULY BE/THAT OUR LOVE HAS STRUCK OUT?/FOR MY HEART IS A DWELLER/IN LIFE'S BIG LEAGUE CELLAR./OH, BOOGIE: WHEN YOU WERE BACK IN THE MINORS,/AND WE ATE A LOT AT DINERS, WELL.../WE WERE CLOSER, GAYER, FESTIVE,/BUT NOW YOU'VE GROWN RESTIVE./OH, I KNOW YOU'RE NOT HITTING,/AND I DON'T MIND ADMITTING/THAT I WORRY. I DO, BOOG. BUT STILL,/WHERE OH WHERE IS THAT OLD THRILL?/REMEMBER, TRUE LOVE NEVER WEARIES,/EVEN WHEN WE MISS THE SERIES! OH, BOOG,/LOOK AT ME: I'M YOUR WIFE. I'M ALIVE!/NOW WHY ARE MY KISSES OH FOR FIVE?
(Music down. Lights out on stage right and up again on stage left. The Scientist is pouring a smoking mixture from one tumbler to another. Nearby, Boog Powell is pacing inside his cage. Finally, he comes over to the bars)
BOOG—Who are you, anyway?