"I haven't slept for months."

That's the opening line of Macready, my character in the Clive Barker's History of the Devil. The play puts the devil on trial for his crimes against humanity, and if found innocent, Lucifer gets to return to Heaven. Macready is a Christian subpoena carrier sent to heaven to serve angels for the trial, but he does not return when expected. At the beginning of the second half, Macready is found wandering the beach, exhausted and delirious. He stumbles around rambling incoherently about not being able to sleep. Although it is not very apparent, Macready holds the secret to Heaven's ambivalence about the trial.

"No shepherd. No more sheep."

Macready is only on stage for minute or so, but as the old saying goes--there are no small parts, only small actors. The cast consisted of over twenty people, and many of them had as strong a connection with their character as I did. Two of the cast members got tattoos to remember their involvement in the play. Director Miguel Martinez gave me a minute to go wild on stage with the part of Macready, and I took full advantage. I stop shaving two months ago and now sport a shaggy gristle beard. My first beard ever! I washed my hair on Mondays only, and by performance time on Fridays, my wavy hair shot out in unpredictable and sporadic directions. While other actors carefully applied make-up for their parts, I wet down my face and arms and smeared dirt in as many places as I could. My costume consisted of Wal-mart purchased pajamas, which I partially spray-painted red and tore into dangling strands. As the script described, I was a man in tatters, physically and mentally.

"I did my job."

The play ran every Friday, Saturday and Sunday in October for a total of twelve shows. My goal was to make everyone remember the crazy guy who was on stage for a minute. My entrance occurred when one of the female prosecutors carried me in on her shoulders and dropped me on the ground in a heap. During the Saturday show in the second week, the audience got an unexpected bonus. When I collapsed on the ground, all of the tatters flopped to the left and revealed my full glory for the sold out audience. I didn't even know it occurred until after the scene was over, but it didn't bother me so much. I don't get the opportunity to be artistically naked very often, and now I can say that people (whether they knew it or not) paid to see my penis. When I came to the show the next day, the prosecutors asked if I was going to wear underwear for the remainder of the performances, and I said no. Macready is beyond vanity or undergarments.

"Ba-aa-aa-aa. Ba-aa-aa-aa. Ba-aa-aa-ha-ha-ha."

The memorable moment for Macready comes when he talks about counting sheep in Heaven. I came up with the idea to drop down on all fours and baa like a sheep a few times. This was a talent I didn't know I had, and everyone I talked to about the play remembered me as the sheep guy. Macready is actually a very tragic figure. The secret he knows is that Heaven is empty. No angels. No God. Imagine being a devout Christian and discovering that your entire belief system is void. It's enough to make you not care if you are exposing yourself, baa-ing like a sheep, or making any sense at all. In the end, the prosecutors realize the meaning of Macready's babble and trick the devil into being allowed back into Heaven where nothing awaits him.

"Nowhere to sleep."

To say I left Macready at the theater would be a lie. On the weekends, my hair always shot out in wild directions, and my beard remained mangy. When I was in public, I noticed that people would stay clear of me, but they would also let me do what I wanted. No one carded me for booze, no one questioned what I said to them, no one wanted to confront this obviously bizarre individual. I said hello to a cop one late night in a supermarket, and he barely glanced at me before silently walking away. There is an ironic freedom to having nothing to believe in.

I do my final performance of Macready tonight, but I doubt he will ever leave me. I know I will wake up some days and decide to have the Macready look and hair-do. I will wander the streets and hills without a care in this world or the next. And for the rest my life, I know I have the random ability to stick out my tongue and baa like a sheep at anyone.

Chris Jungle vows to only expose himself with good cause.