A solo performance, directed by Meryl Sands. The audience comes into a theater one at a time, and I wash their hands with soil from a trunk in the center of a circle of chairs. Once they are all seated, the show begins. I tell the story of a woman named Grace, recently a survivor of sexual assault, who is coping by imagining a beautiful world scoured clean of all human life. Her beautiful apocalypse keeps getting invaded by her rapist, first in the form of the actual person, then in the form of a monster called The Rat, who kidnaps her and forces her to strip at gunpoint. She holds him off by telling him story after story after story, and the play ends in a whirlwind of stories, each shorter than the other. Throughout the play, reality is constantly shifting. I switch between first and third person, the gender of the assaulter constantly switches back and forth, the details of the apocalypse become worse and worse, and the final cavalcade of stories come from the world of the play, from mythology, from popular culture, from reality.