I created myself, and I'll attack anybody I feel like. - Edward Albee

NICK [smiles at MARTHA. Then, to GEORGE, indicating a side table near the hall]: May I leave my drink here?

GEORGE [as NICK exits without waiting for a reply]: Yeah . . . sure . . . why not? We've got half-filled glasses everywhere in the house, wherever Martha forgets she's left them...in the linen closet, on the edge of the bathtub....I even found one in the freezer, once.

MARTHA [Amused in spite of herself]: You did not!

GEORGE: Yes I did.

MARTHA [ibid.]: You did not!

GEORGE [Giving HONEY her brandy]: Yes I did. [To HONEY] Brandy doesn't give you a hangover?

HONEY: I never mix. And then, I don't drink very much, either.

GEORGE [Grimaces behind her back]: Oh...that's good. Your...your husband was telling me about the ...chromosomes.

MARTHA [Ugly]: The What?

GEORGE: The chromosomes, Martha...the genes, or whatever they are. [To HONEY] You've got quite a ...terrifying husband.

HONEY [As if she's being joshed]: Ohhhhhhhhh....

GEORGE: No, really. He's quite terrifying, with his chromosomes, and all.

MARTHA: He's in the Math Department.

GEORGE: No, Martha...he's a biologist.

MARTHA [Her voice rising]: He's in the Math Department!

HONEY [Timidly]: Uh...biology.

MARTHA [Unconvinced]: Are you sure?

HONEY [With a little giggle]: Well, I ought to. [Then as an afterthought] Be.

MARTHA [Grumpy]: I suppose so. I don't know who said he was in the Math Department.

GEORGE: You did, Martha.

MARTHA [By way of irritable explanation]: Well, I can't be expected to remember everything. I meet fifteen new teachers and their goddamn wives...present company outlawed, of course...[HONEY nods, smiles sillily]...and I'm supposed to remember everything. [Pause] So? He's a biologist. Good for him. Biology's even better. It's less...abstruse.

GEORGE: Abstract.

MARTHA: ABSTRUSE! In the sense of recondite. [Sticks her tongue out at GEORGE] Don't you tell me words. Biology's even better. It's...right at the meat of things.
[NICK re-enters]
You're right at the meat of things,

You want to dance with me, angel tits?

It was like being lost: very young again, with the dark, and lost. There was no . . . thing . . . to be . . . frightened of, but . . .
We were frightened . . . And there was nothing.