Not. Appropriate.

The daylight fell as metaphorically as possible over a long stretch of sidewalk, highlighting the cracks in the seedy pavement of a seedy neighborhood.  Two men walked slowly towards each other, one in the garb of a Victorian manservant, the other wearing a fantastically ironic t-shirt.  And pants, of course.  As they met upon the pavement, the sun sank over the horizon of sketchy apartments and telephone wires.

"Hello, Sir," the Victorian man intoned.  He paused, as if waiting for an audience's reaction to his words.

"I've got my instructions," replied the man with the clever t-shirt (Currie 193).  "Now, have you been drinking?"

"Yes, Sir; eight bottles and a pint" (Wilde 1).

"Ah." The speaker paused and surveyed his surroundings.  The second man continued to stand perfectly still, waiting for a cue from the other to commence with speaking.  "When's the last time you took the pills?" ironic-shirt-man asked (Currie 192).  The Victorian man showed an uncomfortable display of nervousness.

"I don't know what you're speaking of," he stuttered.

"Lane, I think it's time to admit you have a problem."

Lane began backing away slowly, but his elaborate Victorian-era costume hindered his crawling flight somewhat.  He started gesticulating wildly and stammering about his personal rights.

"I need you to stop your habits, Lane.  You're tearing our friendship apart.  I was okay with it at first, but once you started dressing up as a manservant and only responding to dialogue when directly spoken to, things got weird.  Can you please go to rehab?"

"Not even for ready money," Lane growled, dropping his affected air once and for all (Wilde 8).

"I'm taking you to the hospital" (Currie 193).

"Back off, Clark!"

Clark lunged towards Lane, who attempted to run away, but then halted suddenly.  He seemed perplexed and stood wavering on the now-unlit pavement.

"I'm gonna get real weird with it," he muttered, "But my copious drug and alcohol abuse has opened a door for me.  We are living inside fiction, my dear Clark.  Fiction."

Clark started to respond, but then a disembodied and rather morose voice intoned "Exit LANE and CLARK."

CURTAIN