LITTLE BROTHER: LITTLE SISTER.
In the deep shelter where they escaped from the last spasm of global destruction, Sir and Madam (a teenage brother and sister) experiment with the first gropings of love, while Cook, their aged family servant and symbol of timeless authority, snores in her chair. Awakening suddenly she orders them apart, threatening to grind them up for "rissoles" if they don't behave. But the feelings stirring within them cannot be imprisoned indefinitely. When Cook falls asleep again Sir and Madam resolve to find the door leading outside, away from the restrictions of a life imposed by others and shaped by their failures. As they search for the handle Cook mumbles in her sleep of the old days and of forgotten loves, and when she rouses she speaks to the young people of how it used to be—and can never be again. Then she chastises them for trying to leave and resolves that one of them must be sacrificed if security is to be maintained. But then Sir, acting as though he were Cook's long-lost lover, pleads his affection—and suddenly he is (to her) what he pretends to be. Cook falls eagerly into his arms and, just as abruptly, to her death. She has gone "outside." Sir and Madam then turn at last towards the door, with only a vague feeling of hopefulness to guide their steps into the unknown that lies before them.
(2 men, 1 woman or 1 man, 2 women.)

OUT OF THE FLYING PAN.
Amid fanfares and popping flash bulbs, two diplomats (A and B) meet to engage in a bout of international bargaining. Their rapid-fire dialogue, while composed largely of outlandish doubletalk and windy pronouncements, has chilly overtones of the "real thing," as do their inevitable disagreement and estrangement. Angrily they tear apart the treaty they have signed, and turn their backs on one another. Sirens wail, guns rattle, and then a cosmic-sized explosion—followed by a sudden, heavy silence. In the stillness B stalks off the stage, but then a bird twitters, gentle music plays, and A begins to move to its rhythm, retrieving the pieces of the torn treaty. Another moment passes, the sound of an approaching airplane, and then B reappears, dispatch case at the ready. They shake hands, patter again through the trite preliminaries, and then launch into still another round of pretentious gibberish, while mankind holds its collective breath at the outcome.
(2 men.)