POTTER   3'0m2f Two pots contemplate the sovereignty of God

(Two women duck walk onto the stage wearing large dark garbage bags
tight around their necks with the bottoms cut out for walking)

ROSE -- Here comes another one, Lily.

LILY -- Another what, Rose?

ROSE -- Another vase, Lily! Another vase! It's over, I tell ya!
        It's over!  We'll be in the dumpster by morning.

LILY -- Rose, you say that every time the potter throws another
        pot.  You're cracked!

ROSE -- (pirouettes, looking at herself) Where?

LILY -- It's a figure of speech. Don't be so paranoid.

ROSE -- Well, do you think I enjoy being thrown over for a
        younger pot?

LILY -- THROWN over?

ROSE -- Now's no time for levity. I'm really chipped off.

LILY -- Chipped off?

ROSE -- Yeah, who does he think he is anyway!

LILY -- Well, for one thing he's the guy who created you out of
        a ball of mud.


LILY -- Actually, I've never seen him SLIP. All his pots are

ROSE -- No, I mean SLIP is the wet ball of clay he started with.

LILY -- That's my point. He COULD have made you an ash tray.
        Or a paper weight.  But, what he wanted was a beautiful

ROSE -- I AM beautiful, aren't I, Lily? (pirouettes gracefully,
        admiring herself)

LILY -- Yes, you are. But instead of being grateful that you're
        both beautiful and useful, you constantly worry that
        a vase MORE beautiful or more useful will happen along.

ROSE -- I don't know how you can be so relaxed about it, Lily.
        You were once a beautiful vase too.  Now you're a ...

LILY -- An umbrella stand. It's okay, you can say it. I don't
        mind at all.

ROSE -- I'd be cracking my glaze if I were you. I'd be all
        fired up...


ROSE -- Yeah, it would just KILN me.

LILY -- Kiln Me?

ROSE -- Yeah, when he just casts you aside, singing I'VE GROWN

LILY -- Really, Rose, being used for an umbrella stand is not
        half as bad as having to listen to your puns.

ROSE -- But how can you stand it. It would be so humbling.

LILY -- You know, Rose, if you think about it, we're all HUMBLE
        whether we admit it or not.. The potter could have
        taken us out of the kiln and smashed us, all of us, into
        a million pieces.  Or worse, he could have left us
        unfired, without any color or character, to wither and
        decompose in the rain.

ROSE -- Well, when you put it like that I don't have much

LILY -- Oh, but you DO have a choice. You can sit around and
        complain about your color or your shape.  Or you can
        gratefully CHOOSE TO BE exactly what you are and serve
        the potter cheerfully.

ROSE -- Alright, you're right. You're exactly right. I admit it.
Let's go check out the new vase and tell her how lucky she is to
be a POT.

        (both exit) 

        Do you think she'll have a glazed look in her eye?

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