Fuck you all! Fuck you, bastards! (SAM and BOB react immediately and jump on him. A struggle is started. The sofa falls backward. All very rapidly. JUDY shouts. SARA with the scissors aloft, joins SAM and BOB. JUDY runs and turns out the light. RAÚL shouts again but without being seen covered by the bodies of the rest: "Fuck you!" At once, in unison, someone kicks the door, and it is opened violently. Against the light is seen the silhouette of a man in an aggressive pose with a submachine gun in his hand. Curtain.)
The stage is completely illuminated, as in the previous acts. The street door is closed. All seems to be in order and in its place. RAÚL enters, formally dressed, as in the previous act, very well put together but somewhat nervous. He dials a number. He speaks, but remains watchful of the door that leads to the terrace.
RAÚL: María? . . . Yes, it's me Raúl. Are you ready now? Yes, now you can come, come . . . Take a taxi and come here .. Yes, they liked the first act very much . . . A delight, a marvel, a masterpiece. Things like these are not written anymore . . . Well, that was what they said; what they think, who knows. One cannot see below the surface . . . Yes, I believe that this time I have hit the bull's eye . . . Imagine! It hasn't been easy. Sex, violence, homosexuality . . . Whatever is in fashion, no? But superficially, so as not to frighten anyone . . . It's clear that the second act was something else and they were dumbfounded . . . Yes, yes, I know that El Tiznado does nothing but screw things up and a little bit at a time he gets them scared, dammit, right up to that damned ending when he shows up and wrecks it all. Well, you know how he is. I'm going to have to strangle him, because the only thing he wants to do is kick ass . . . No, no, it's me, Raúl . . . No, it's not El Tiznado . . . Yes, yes, I know that he wants to come out again, but I've got him on a short leash because if those people see him, they get scared and I'll never be able to stage the play. I'll have to take measures for the third act, don't be worried . . . No, no, yes, I swear to you that I have