Disclaimer: I have trouble believing any of you are dense enough to mistake my work for the genius of Duncan Sheik and Frank Wedekind.

Notes: Again, I was extremely impressed at the amazing reviews- and at the number of people who caught the Dr. Horrible reference without me even pointing it out! Just finished watching it again, actually. Anyway, I hurried to get this done despite upcoming exams, so I hope its quality matches the others'… Reviews would really help me right now!

Scene Ten: And Now I Am Done!

Michael Mayer: Okay, role call, people! Anyone missing?

(Moritz's hairdo is conspicuously absent from the crowd.)

Michael Mayer: Alright, everyone's here. You can go.

Melchior: *raises hand* Where's Moritz?

Everyone: Um…

Moritz (from stage right): *waving gun* I'm right here, guys!

Michael Mayer: Of course, Moritz is missing just as the show is starting…

Hanschen: Whatever. Let's just start without him. It's not like he matters.

Moritz: But I'm right…!

Michael Mayer: SHUT UP, JOHN! *turns to Hanschen* Yeah. Wherever he is, I'm sure his body'll turn up somewhere.

Melchior (hurt): I dressed up for him…

Wendla: MELCHI! *hugs him* Wow, those are the realest-looking skin-colored pants I've ever seen…

(They all wander offstage, save for Frau Gabor, who pulls out her cell phone and checks for texts.)

Frau Gabor: "hey buddy, running away to "American Idiot," im gonna shoot myself, gimme $ for my funeral, thnx, from John?"

(Angsty music starts as Frau Gabor sighs and begins replying with her quill pen and iPad. Miraculously, Moritz already holds a print-out to what appears to the longest text ever.)

Frau Gabor: Dear Herr Gallagher- John, I've spent the past five seconds thinking of you. Truly, I have. Well, okay, three. I was mildly disappointed to find you think of me merely as a "buddy." Of course, I was saddened to receive your death notice for Act II- and yet I feel to need to point out, I find it utterly unrealistic for you to be distributing invitations to your own funeral. Of course, you must be under stress- I'll just pay it no heed. *clears throat* Still, I must say, fleeing to "American Idiot" is hardly a solution- you're still suicidal, and plus, it sucks! As for fleeing to America- that is simply not an option! You're already in America, for Pete's sake. And, even if it were an option, you wouldn't need my money to step out of the theatre and be homeless. And even if you did desperately need my money, you know what my paycheck is. Seriously, just because I'm an adult and get paid ten times more than you doesn't make Broadway tickets any cheaper…

(Moritz finally gets sick of her rant and interrupts.)

Moritz:

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well, fine.

Not like I'm even worth the lines.

But still, you know-

They all want porn.

Sorry, that won't change-

You'll have to mourn.

Frau Gabor: Still, just because I'm condemning you to death doesn't mean I hate you. On the contrary, as Melchior's mother, I have been forced to hide my feelings of affection. In fact, I consider it my duty to fill in these momentary lapses in your song…

Moritz:

I sing, "Life sucks!"

Hooray for me!

A thousand bucks a month-

Poor me!

And I say, "Please, that's all I need."

Get real, who'd pay to watch that Melchior?

Frau Gabor: If it makes you feel better, I'll write to your parents about your utter failure and tell them, "It's your son, Moritz- what else could you possibly expect from him?" I will tell them of all the hours you spent at my house with Melchior, claiming you had already studied, and will try to warn them that utter condemnation could have the GRAVEest possible consequences- like, for example, suicide. No promises, though.

Moritz:

It's just a draft,

You're hardly heard.

You're sorta daft,

But not a nerd.

You get to crash,

Not burn like Melchior.

Frau Gabor: Still, one thing in your letter had me a bit concerned… Or maybe it was hard to discern… Well, it mighta entered my subconscious for a millisecond… Nah, I don't even remember what it was. *glances at text* Ah, yes! The blatant foreshadowing of your suicide in Act II! It disturbed me that you would joke about suicide! For now, I will utterly disregard your blasphemy, but remember: what goes around comes around. So, if you find yourself committing suicide anytime soon, don't come crying to me for help, because I certainly warned you.

Moritz:
Okay, so now we start the play.

Act like "oh so scared," no way.

They'll write those blokes- like, each day.

Fame, that's how it goes.

Frau Gabor: You must remember, there are hundreds- or some… well, maybe some sort of bacteria species- like you who have somehow managed to be born yet fail at life. My dear… thing, the world is a polluted, spinning ball of child molesters, and criminals, and rapists who have done rather terrible things and yet have still received heroic acclaim for them. Take some of our popes, for example…

Moritz:

A week to go,

I know my lines.

I sell my soul,

Then killing time.

Will I quit?

I will, like every show.

I'm not unknown, not anymore,

Not like I so was before.

Still the critics pen, like, "Johnny blows...

He blows... He blows..."

Frau Gabor: Let me assure you, your unfortunate situation will have no effect whatsoever on our seemingly nonexistent relationship, save for the fact that I will never interact with you ever again. Same goes for my son, Melchior.

(Just to blow off Ernst, Hanschen joins Moritz despite the fact he hates him.)

Moritz and Hanschen:
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well, fine.

Not like we're even worth the lines.

But still, you know-

They all want porn.

Hanschen:

Hey, Ernst, that's us babe!

Moritz (praying):

Kill me before.

(The others crowd around the letter.)

Georg: *grabs it triumphantly* My piano teacher touched this!

Hanschen: Ewww…

Otto: *rolls eyes* Yeah, like postcards are so much better.

Georg: She probably breathed on it!

Moritz: Guys! I'm angsting!

Hanschen: Wait, you're not dead yet?

Moritz: *pretends to shoot himself*

Otto: *glances at script* You know, I really do have no point. Why am I singing this? Why am I even in this at all?

Hanschen: For the babes, baby.

Ernst: Um, Hanschen?

Hanschen: You count.

Ernst: *tries to figure out if Hanschen is gay or not*

Moritz and Otto:

You're just like trash.

Otto:

I'm hardly heard!

Moritz:

You're there for half

Then go berserk.

Otto:

You make the cash, then burn!

Moritz:

Right through the floor.

Moritz and Ernst:

Your start to fame

Will start to die.

You end your run

With suicide.

Georg:

You have to stumble up,

Curse Frau Gabor.

Frau Gabor: So stay high, Herr Gallagher- yes, might as well get drunk in the snow and talk to imaginary angels. See you at your funeral! Until you die, I am reluctantly and only metaphorically yours, Christine Estabrook.

Moritz:

I suck! Well- right?

(Hanschen nods emphatically.)

Moritz:

Enough. That's it!

I'll sing a song that's not a hit.

Another play, I'll stutter, "Shit!"

And I've got a gun.

*waves gun in air*

Moritz and Otto:

And then he will run!

Moritz, Otto, and Georg:

And then he'll be gone!

Moritz and Boys:

And now we are done!

Everyone: Thank God.

Moritz: Don't they know that suicide notes are rhetorical? *sniffles* I'm kinda scared to kill myself. What if I die? And, and I have stage fright! *runs away sobbing*

Melchior: *dozing and awakening* Wait a sec, what just happened? *glances down* What the hell am I doing on a platform, and why are you guys all staring at me?

Ernst: Wait, does "and then there were none" mean we should all leave stage?

Hanschen: No, Ernst, we're supposed to watch him have sex!

Ernst: *starts leaving*

Hanschen: That wasn't sarcastic.

Okay, weak ending, but it's late… Next up, it's opening night! Until then, I'd love reviews for exam week. :D Or for Moritz. Or just Moritz, period, I'll take him too.