Free Angels in America by Tony Kushner

sitting on the steps contemplatively eating one. Joe enters with three hot dogs and a can of Coke .
    JOE : Can I . . .?
    LOUIS : Oh sure. Sure. Crazy cold sun.
    JOE (Sitting) : Have to make the best of it.
    Â Â Â Â Â  How’s your friend?
    LOUIS : My . . .? Oh. He’s worse. My friend is worse.
    JOE : I’m sorry.
    LOUIS : Yeah, well. Thanks for asking. It’s nice. You’re nice. I can’t believe you voted for Reagan.
    JOE : I hope he gets better.
    LOUIS : Reagan?
    JOE : Your friend.
    LOUIS : He won’t. Neither will Reagan.
    JOE : Let’s not talk politics, OK?
    LOUIS (Pointing to Joe’s lunch) : You’re eating three of those?
    JOE : Well . . . I’m . . . hungry.
    LOUIS : They’re really terrible for you. Full of rat poo and beetle legs and wood shavings ’n’ shit.
    JOE : Huh.
    LOUIS : And . . . um . . . irridium, I think. Something toxic.
    JOE : You’re eating one.
    LOUIS : Yeah, well, the shape, I can’t help myself, plus I’m trying to commit suicide, what’s your excuse?
    JOE : I don’t have an excuse. I just have Pepto-Bismol.
    (Joe takes a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and chugs it. Louis shudders audibly.)
    JOE : Yeah I know but then I wash it down with Coke.
    (He does this. Louis mimes barfing in Joe’s lap. Joe pushes Louis’s head away.)
    JOE : Are you always like this?
    LOUIS : I’ve been worrying a lot about his kids.
    JOE : Whose?
    LOUIS : Reagan’s. Maureen and Mike and little orphan Patti and Miss Ron Reagan, Jr., the you-should-pardon-the-expression heterosexual.
    JOE : Ron Reagan, Jr. is not — You shouldn’t just make these assumptions about people. How do you know? About him? What he is? You don’t know.
    LOUIS (Doing Tallulah Bankhead) : Well darling he never sucked my cock but—
    JOE : Look, if you’re going to get vulgar—
    LOUIS : No no really , I mean, what’s it like to be the child of the Zeitgeist? To have the American Animus as your dad? It’s not really a family , the Reagans, I read People , there aren’t any connections there, no love, they don’t ever even speak to each other except through their agents. So what’s it like to be Reagan’s kid? Enquiring minds want to know.
    JOE : You can’t believe everything you—
    LOUIS : But . . .
    Â Â Â Â Â  I think we all know what that’s like. Nowadays. No connections. No responsibilities. All of us . . . falling through the cracks that separate what we owe to our selves and . . . and what we owe to love.
    JOE (A beat, then) : You just . . . Whatever you feel like saying or doing, you don’t care, you just . . . do it.
    LOUIS (Catching at something in Joe’s tone) : Do what?
    JOE : It. Whatever. Whatever it is you want to do.
    LOUIS (A beat; then, quietly challenging) : Are you trying to tell me something?
    (Little pause, sexual. They look at each other, then Joe looks away.)
    JOE : No, I’m just observing that you—
    LOUIS (Nodding, letting him off the hook) : Impulsive.
    JOE : Yes, I mean it must be scary, you—
    LOUIS : Land of the free, home of the brave, call me irresponsible.
    JOE : It’s kind of terrifying.
    LOUIS (Shrugging) : Yeah, well, freedom is. Heartless, too.
    JOE : Oh you’re not heartless.
    (Little pause. Louis stops smiling.)
    LOUIS : You don’t know.
    Â Â Â Â Â  Finish your weenie.
    (Louis pats Joe on the knee, stands and starts to leave.)
    JOE : Um . . .
    (Louis turns, looks at him. Joe searches for something to say; then, mostly avoiding looking at Louis:)
    JOE : Yesterday was Sunday but I’ve been a little unfocused recently and I thought it was Monday. So I came here like I was going to work. And the whole place was empty. And at first I couldn’t figure out why, and I had this moment of incredible . . . fear and also . . . It just flashed through my mind: the whole Hall of Justice, it’s empty, it’s deserted,