Coming from my house

DARREN NELSON

It was a simple skit, in a college revue that poked fun at everything from politicians to sex education. The actors (college students) played little kindergartners who came skipping onstage, holding hands, waving huge lollipops. Then the teacher said, "Time for the sex education class" and herded the children offstage. The audience "overheard" short takes from a clinical film about the facts of life, and then the kiddies came slowly back on stage. But now they were sad and scared. They refused to take hands with each other. The girls looked away from the boys. One boy held a hand over his eyes.

"Now, children," the spoofy teacher said, "let's talk about what the film told us. Right—where babies come from. Now, Douglas, in your own words, can you tell us where you come from?"

Douglas, played by a paunchy senior, wore enormous red walking shorts pinned to suspenders. Turning his back on his girlfriend, he shyly stammered, then blurted out, "... I ... I come from my house."

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