Can A Person Have More Than One Personality

Musk priest in Peru - Introduction

Musk priest in Peru -.. A drama in tba hectoliters

Introduction

(A black stage, a small man with a handlebar mustache and a tall cylinder, dressed in a tuxedo to his neck, a black bow tie is in the spotlight, he has dust . and dirt on his shoulders, he turned smiling to the audience)
dischargers. Look here, listen here, because what will you present is more than a show, hear her behold her! (Pause.)
The spectacle is absent today but unfortunately, because I would now already the end will tell. I do this not to the work put itself in the foreground, no, and not put also to the audience in the role of interpretative, while he, the end of already knowing the tragic heroes of his fate rush to see, the deeper message of the piece tries to explore. (Pause. He is knocking the dirt off your shoulders. He goes out of the spotlight and comes after some time back with a liver sausage. He begins to eat it, while he, small pieces of bread spitting, continues talking.)
I'm going to reveal the end to the piece totally irrelevant and shit to do! Really, I mean the piece is he already crowded and totally stereotypical exactly the opposite of what one would call a niveuvollen play. And if they now know the ending, then they can just get angry about the play. And from the deepest depths of my heart, oh I hope that you channel all your future hate that you will find when looking at this piece on me and me after the show trying to polish the face! (He laughs loudly.)
The mayor dies, seeing the city in flames, while the musk priest in a burning pub with 'a bottle of Sambuca sags! So now you Dig It! You can go just as well now, we have your money anyway 'already. So I've just done this tasty liver sausage. (He lifts the bread in the air and licking the surface with his long tongue, this manic grin.) HAHA! Hate me, damn me, I'm an announcer! Hate me, damn me, I have your bread! Hate me, damn me, I'm the face, what will haunt your curse, when you think of a wasted night of your life in the theater! If you wish to your death, you would have made this evening something useful! You, HAHAHA! (He throws the Bread on the ground, because of its beautiful natural background of speech, breathing heavily. With his hands he supported on his knees. After a while he sets up a forefinger on the bread, while he looks into the audience.) And believe with, oh believe me, I would still shit on the bread if I had now! (The lights go off, and bathes the stage in darkness.)

discharges.