Kate carefully picks up and folds each of the pieces of fabric lying on the stage and into the aisle. She sets one of the pieces of fabric aside. 

Holding the folded fabric, she asks if there is a row that would be willing to cut fabric with scissors. When she finds a row of volunteers, she lays the fabric over their laps. She pulls a pair of orange handled scissors out of her pocket. 

Kate: These scissors were the first tool I owned that I wouldn’t skimp on. Whatever their price was, I paid it. I own multiple pairs. Even more pairs than my family had when I was growing up. They are scattered all over my apartment. When I went looking for them for this performance, I found them in my sewing box, in a desk drawer, in an Orangina glass of pens and watercolor brushes, on the bathroom shelf, and in a junk drawer. 

I think there are more, but I’m not sure where they are. 

Their ubiquity has good points and bad points. I’m usually never too far away from a pair of decent scissors. But, it also means I’ve lost track of a few of them. I’m no longer sure of their status. 

Kate pulls four more pairs of orange handled scissors out of her pockets. Each is marked with a different colored sticker.

Kate: Some of them I know have stayed strictly for hair or strictly for fabric. The one that lives in my junk drawer is definitely compromised. Two of them, however, I have no idea the things they’ve cut. 

Kate hands a pair of scissors to the audience members with the fabric on their laps. 

Kate: See if you can tell which ones I’ve protected and which ones I haven’t. 

The audience members cut the fabric with the scissors as best as they can. Kate solicits guesses from them to see if the scissors they hold have been protected. 

Kate reads from a card that matches the colored sticker with where the scissors were found in her apartment. She learns along with the audience whether her protection strategy has actually protected the scissors’ utility. 

Kate reacts to the results of the scissor test. 

Curtain.