Lemon Cakes [A Farewell to Arms]

Cast of Characters:

Abigail: Network executive
Vienna Thurlbeck: Prosthetician
Liam Maxwell: Unemployed
Roman Edwards: Patient
Cara: The cause of Roman’s accident
Neil: Writer for a talk show
Simon: Writer for a talk show
Jeff: Writer for a talk show
Riza: Intern working with Neil, Simon, and Jeff
Michael Starsinski: An ecologist
Nathaniel Thurlbeck: An ecologist, Vienna’s brother
Mr. Rathburn: Vienna’s boss
Mark: Network executive
The doctor: Doctor turned magician’s assistant
Amy: Nurse
James Christensen: Talk show host
Chuck: Martial arts instructor
Anna: Audience member
Also: Security, an indeterminate number of audience members, and construction workers.




















Act I Scene I
[A hospital room, a quiet scene. Enter Roman, who is lying on a bed, and Vienna with clipboard, at the computer.]

Vienna: I wish they would delete some of the nonsense on this machine. Whenever you need to find something, it takes ten minutes of just rummaging. Amy!

[Enter Amy]

Amy: Yes!

Vienna: Amy. Go find Charles, ask him if he’s been working these past few days, and if so, if he has the file on this Mr. Edwards.

[Exit Amy. Vienna idly looks at Roman from across the room. Enter Amy with a file folder, which she hands to Vienna. Exit Amy.]

Vienna: Mr. Edwards, I’m very sorry for your accident. Please take comfort in knowing that the health industry has recently experienced great economic growth, and as such, we are on the cusp of technologies that can really help you. I just need to ask you a few simple questions. I have your file here, I just want to make sure it’s up to date. Have you developed any sort of infection since the surgery?

Roman: No.

Vienna: Okay. Do you have any allergies that you know of, and especially those that relate to substances making contact with your skin?

Roman: No.

Vienna: Okay. Can you please move your shoulder for me if you can? Just rotate it in a circle. Good. I am going to prod you with a pen now. Don’t worry, I will leave the cap on so I don’t mark you up. Can I ask you to turn your head away and just say ‘yes’ each time you feel something?

Roman: Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Vienna: Okay, good. Good news, you passed. I want to inform you now of several rehabilitation programs that the hospital has to offer that will help you to recover physically and teach you how to comfortably use a prosthetic limb.

Roman: No thanks.

Vienna: Please let me finish. You will have to start making daily visits to Hotel D’ore, but here is the benefit. The prosthetic arm you’ll be fitted with will be a crafted imitation of your left arm using a combination of synthetic skin, bleached horse hairs, as well as plastics and resins and some other less important ingredients. Basically, although it will feel a bit different to touch, it will be very difficult to distinguish it visually from a real arm. As for the performance, we’ve recently developed-

Roman: Look, I said I wasn’t interested. I appreciate that this is your job, but if you really have to recite all this, please go speak into a closet, or somewhere I can’t hear you.

Vienna: I just… Don’t understand. I realize you’ve gone through a great loss, but there’s no reason to keep experiencing it. We can give you that part of your life back. I don’t think I’ve explained well enough how good the technology is, though. It’s nothing like it was ten years ago. Okay, you explain it to the nurse. Amy!

[Enter Amy]

Amy: Dr. Thurlbeck?

Vienna: Say it as you said to me.

Roman: I don’t… Want...

[A silence]

Vienna: This man is opting out of the prosthetics option.

Amy: Okay.

Vienna: Call me if anything changes.

Amy: Okay.

[Exit Vienna]

Amy: Would you like some water?

[Exit Amy. Enter Cara, who sits next to Roman.]

Cara: It wasn’t my fault, you know. Or you can’t blame me since I’ve already lost so much. You were just driving some beat up Mazda, I lost a Benz. Haven’t paid the insurance on it in three months; one of those great life regrets people talk about. You lost your arm, I lost a son. Well, not yet, but I suspect he’s on the way out. Anyway, my point is, what’s the point in being so grim about all this? You have your health, right? Well, except for your arm, of course. And how many people wouldn’t kill to lose twenty pounds so quickly? Effortlessly, too. Look. No one is here. No one is watching you as you gaze wistfully out the window. So. Picturesque as it is, no one is going to fault you if you just enjoy yourself, are they? Why not grab a bite to eat? You’re hungry, aren’t you? I recommend finger food. Just think about the sorts of foods drivers eat, this is best suited to you right now. The world is your oyster, so long as you hate seafood and you’re willing to compromise.

[Exeunt.]

Act I Scene II
[A home. Music is playing, Liam is drinking when Vienna enters.]

Vienna: Why does it stink so much in here?

Liam: I’m sorry. I burnt the breadsticks earlier.

Vienna: Why are you eating breadsticks again without anything else? We’re not going to have anything to serve with dinner. You know my brother and his wife are coming over later. I don’t understand you.

Liam: I love you, Vienna. Come here. One day we will live in a house where the breadsticks flow like wine, and cheese drizzles onto them from every vent and seem in the wall.

Vienna: You’re drunk early.

Liam: I just wanted to say I’m sorry.

Vienna: For what?

Liam: You know… That we live in a place like this. I’m embarrassed. Don’t you think it’s embarrassing to live like a child and dream of being a fireman when you’re out to sea? Or of being an astronaut when no one cares about space any more?

Vienna: No, I think it’s sweet. Besides, ships out at sea catch fire all the time. It’s a real problem.

Liam: Really?

Vienna: Yes, really.

Liam: Do you think I’d look good in a fireman’s outfit?

Vienna: Yes.

Liam: I could break into your room with my axe, carry you out and drop you into the snow. Then we’d make out on the lawn in front of all the neighbours.

Vienna: Really?

Liam: Yes, because you think I’m so hot in a fireman’s outfit.

Vienna: And what about the fire?

Liam: There’s no fire.

Vienna: I like this house. Besides, I just got a new job. Soon I’ll be making lots of money, then we can move wherever we want.

Liam: And you can support me.

Vienna: Yes.

Liam: Maybe I should wear a maid’s outfit instead. I could greet you when you come in and wash all your shoes when you’re away.

Vienna: Don’t be rude now, Liam. You were being so sweet a moment ago.

[Exit Liam into a small room to the side of the main living area. There is a knock at the door. Enter Nathaniel.]

Nathaniel: Hi Vienna, thanks for having me.

Vienna: You’re early! And where’s Rachel?

Nathaniel: Didn’t you get my text? Yeah, she couldn’t make it, I think she’s coming down with something. She sends her love though, she was really looking forward to coming.

Vienna: Okay, well. Food is not going to be ready for a little while, and… Oh! Would you mind coming with me to pick out some wine? I completely forgot.

Nathaniel: Sure thing. Uhh. Just let me check my car for a minute.

Vienna: Okay, go wait in the car. I’ll be right there.

[Exit Nathaniel and Vienna in different directions, Vienna leaving to a small room off to the side to meet Liam.]

Vienna: Sober up. My brother is here but I will take him out for a little while. Don’t drink anything while I’m gone.

Liam: What kind of insatiable drunkard do you take me for?

Vienna: You’re drunk and hiding in a closet, Liam!

[Enter Vienna and Nathaniel into the main room. Nathaniel has a bottle of wine.]

Nathaniel: I just remembered, I actually did bring some wine. You know, I knew I meant to, but in the commotion to get here I just thought I had forgotten.

Vienna: Great! Have a seat, please. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right out. Do you want something to drink right now?

Nathaniel: No thanks. Where’s Liam?

Vienna: Gone out.

[Enter Liam]

Liam: Here I am! Good to see you, Nathaniel.

Nathaniel: You too, man. Look at you, you’re all fired up and ready for the night, aren’t you?

Liam: See, Vienna? I told you your brother likes me. An embarrassment? Not- Not me. No sir.

Vienna: I will put the pork in. You two stay there and play cards or something.

Liam: [To Vienna] You sure I can’t help? [To Nathaniel] She’s crazy about me. She was bragging just the other day to all her friends about what a stand up person I was. How’s work?

Nathaniel: It’s bullshit. You know, I’ve spent the last ten years looking into the spiny cladoceran’s creeping invasion into the Great Lakes, and I’m still struggling to get grants each year.

Liam: Damn spiny cladocerans, coming in and stealing all our jobs…

Nathaniel: We’re trying to fight a war out there, and we’re being sent out with pen knives and tin helmets.

Liam: Is it a bad thing, these spiny cladocerans coming in?

Nathaniel: They’re only destroying the ecosystem, Liam. I’m a scientist, so I’m very careful about being very exact in my language and not making exaggerated claims, and I can say unreservedly that this is the single biggest issue in environmental conservation today.

Liam: So what are they doing about it?

Nathaniel: Nothing, and do you know why? It’s not glamorous enough. You know what is being funded each year? Michael Starsinski’s fruit fly rape lab. No one really knows what the data can be used for, but it sounds vaguely academic, so each year we can afford to host non-stop yeast-infused fly orgies because the titles of the studies turn heads.

Liam: You sound a little bitter, Nathaniel.

Nathaniel: Is it a crime to be bitter? The oceans are dying, Liam. Do you realize how serious this is?

Liam: And if you had the money, your lab, you’d stop it?

Nathaniel: Well, no, we only work in the Great Lakes, really.

Liam: Just in the Great Lakes then, let’s say.

Nathaniel: Well, no, not exactly there either. We’d watch the communities as the problem got worse though, so at least we’d know how bad everything was.

Vienna: You two are always talking about work whenever you come over. Isn’t it stressful enough just to go each day? Talk about movies, or, something else.

Nathaniel: [To Liam] How is work going for you, by the way? I heard you were being cast in a shampoo commercial, you have to be in great shape for that.

Liam: It didn’t quite pan out. They said I was getting a bit old, that the distance between my eyes was too great, and that my smile, rather than expressing true joy, just made me seem shallow and weird.

Nathaniel: I’m sorry to hear that, but look. You don’t really need all those good qualities to be famous these days, all you need is a gimmick or a punchline. People don’t have the attention span for anything else anyway.

Vienna: You could cut your arm off in front of people. That would catch their attention.

Liam: Would you really stay with me if I had only one arm?

Vienna: Yeah, okay. If it’s what you want.

[Exeunt.]

Act I Scene III
[A board room. Enter Mark and Abigail sitting at a table.]

Mark: You know what? It’s really awful, I agree with you there. I’m not trying to say this isn’t terrible; I really feel for the guy.

Abigail: Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page then.

Mark: We are on the same page, Abigail. I want this to turn out with the best possible outcome too. For the man and his family, for the kids going to see the movie, for-

Abigail: For you and the studio-
For the kids going to see the movie! What does that even mean? What does it have to do with anything at all in this situation?

Mark: It has everything to do with this situation. These kids grew up on these books. Do you understand how important that is? It’s not just some book. This is their childhood we’re talking about. Their childhood memories, and we have a chance here to actually make it come to life on the big screen, and you want to smear that with opening night headlines about how some reckless stuntman broke his back on set?

Abigail: He was not reckless! I was there, this was the direct result of poor safety measures, and now he’s never going to walk again. Do you really think that’s just some minor blip in production?

Mark: Look, I’m not going to argue with you about whether or not the accident was his fault. If we do that, that’s all this conversation is gonna be about. My point is the same as yours. This guy, Ryan D’Angelo, won’t ever walk again. That’s just the sad truth of it. Thousands of people break bones or die in this country every day, and for what? There’s no injustice to it, it’s just what happens.

Abigail: That’s a shit argument and you know it. We’re not talking about all Canadians, we’re talking about this one.

Mark: What I’m trying to say is that you’re out for blood. You want someone thrown on the fire for this, but it’s not going to make any difference. The studio and the network are both under a microscope now with WSIB. If someone so much as gets a scratch on set, the whole company’s going to be shut down. Ryan’s already settled with us, so you’re not going to bleed anyone dry. All you’re going to do is horrify millions of children going to see this movie.

Abigail: That’s where you’re wrong, Mark. I’ll be mortifying millions of parents of the children who would’ve gone to see your crumby movie. What kind of child do you know reads the paper?

Mark: Oh, come on, Abigail. Why’d you gotta call it crumby? Are we taking kidney shots on each other already?

Abigail: I wouldn’t box with you, Mark, I’d end up with a face full of lead or rosin.

[Abigail gets up to leave.]

Mark: Wait.

Abigail: Wait? What? Well what is it? Maybe it’s something you don’t want to say and I don’t want to hear, so I’m leaving.

Mark: We know about your taxes.

Abigail: What do you mean, you know about my taxes?

Mark: Two-thousand to two-thousand-four. No reported income, and I may or may not know something Revenue Canada doesn’t.

Abigail: You slime. You rotten egg eating, fat-faced, heartless, liverless, unpassed kidney stone of a man! You… How dare you threaten me?! Is this really happening?

[Mark pulls out a contract.]

Abigail: What is that?

Mark: A non-disclosure agreement. Look, it’s not my idea, alright? We’re only talking because Chris and Andrew know we know each other pretty well, so they wanted me to… I don’t know.

Abigail: What? Twist my arm while whispering sweet nothings into my ear? Well, I’m not into that and I’m sorry to disappoint you if you thought I was born yesterday, but I’m not signing something like this. Why? So you can report me the moment my name is in ink there? And don’t say you wouldn’t stoop to that level, I’m only surprised you were able to slither up from your belly long enough to have this meeting. No, you can keep your mouth shut and I’ll… Well, I’ll do the same. Oh, and Mark? You’re worse than they are. At least they know they’re being scum about this whole thing at the end of the day.

[Exit Abigail. Mark is left to sulk at his desk.]
[Exeunt.]

Act II Scene I
[A writers’ studio. Enter Simon, Jeff, Neil, and Riza.]

Riza: With respect, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about, and I just want to-

Simon: No, no, look. Put your hand in and I’ll shine a light on them and they won’t bite or go near your hand or anything.

Riza: Then why don’t you put your hand in?

Simon: I will, just as soon as you do. I know it’s going to work, I put my whole arm in earlier when the trainer just brought them in. Even ask Neil.

Neil: He’s a liar.

Simon: See? But if I just put my hand in and nothing happens, you’ll know it’s fine. You’ll put your hand in and it won’t be scary. It’s not fun. It’s only fun if you don’t trust me a little bit.

Riza: I don’t trust you at all.

Simon: Why?

[Enter Abigail]

Neil: Abbey! Where you been all these months?

Abigail: Oh, you know, just beating around the bush. Just scurrying around coffee trucks looking for crumbs to eat up. How’s my favourite brain behind the personality? Jeff, Simon, Riza.

Neil: We get by with the crumbs the man upstairs deems fit to feed us with.

Abigail: You poor, poor thing. It’s amazing you even have the strength to pull yourself out to your BMW each morning.

Neil: It’s the thought of you. Keeps me going.

Abigail: How sweet. Now listen… Where is the man upstairs, anyway?

Jeff: Oh, he’s gone out, Abigail.

Neil: What, suddenly the brain isn’t competent enough to hear all your inquiries? All you care about is a pretty face.

Abigail: Well you know if that were true Neil, I wouldn’t be so happy to see you each time I came around.

Neil: I’m touched. So. Did you just come by to pass out compliments and remind us how much the network loves us?

Abigail: Yes, and in the best way a network knows how. I came to line your pockets with gold.

Neil: O sweet siren’s melody
Why do I feel as if the shore is much closer than it looks?

Abigail: Well, there is a catch.

Neil: A catch?

Abigail: A slight gamble, depending on how much you value stability.

Neil: I value money. Moreso when I know it’s going to keep coming.

Abigail: Well good then. Got any dangerous acts coming down the tube lately?

Simon: Why do you want a dangerous act?

Abigail: I don’t have a reason. Not until I know what you have, anyway.

Jeff: We get exotic animals in every now and then, but people just aren’t as interested in them these days.

Abigail: No no, it needs to be bigger. People catching swords mid-air and doing belly flops into cups of water from thirty meters up.

Neil: So, you want a circus then, not a talk show. I don’t know if you know this or not, but there isn’t a great demand for writers in the circus.

[Here an aside will begin only between Simon and Riza while the other characters continue on with their conversation.]

Simon: Speaking of circuses, pretty soon these are going to be taken back to animal prison and you’re going to be left wondering your whole life if they would’ve really frozen if you shone a light on them.

Riza: That’s not going to happen. I practically forgot about it already, except you keep bringing it up.

Simon: And in three months or whatever when you’re fired for drinking way too loudly when everyone’s trying to enjoy their lunches, and your replacement comes in and asks what the last girl was like, all we’ll be able to remember is that you were kind of vaguely afraid of everything.

Riza: Shut up. You’re going to be fired long before I am, Simon.

[End of aside.]

Abigail: Oh! Just give me a week. One week of danger and excitement. I’ll put your ratings through the roof with all the advertising I’m going to pour into this. You won’t be able to drive two stoplights without seeing James’ face.

Neil: A real nightmare come true. I’m tempted. I don’t know though, I smell a fish somewhere in all this. What is it you really want out of all this?

Abigail: Let’s just say I’m doing something reckless for personal reasons, but I’ve still figured out how to make a quick buck from it.

Neil: No one knows how to put anxious nerves to rest like you, Abbey.

Abigail: See how transparent I am? Oh! And I don’t want any acts that haven’t been booked somewhere else. I don’t care how you do it, but steal them. But also make sure they’re all wildly irresponsible.

Simon: I don’t understand. Do you just want somebody to get injured?

Jeff: Those conjoined twins are going to be separated next month on that new dating show, ‘Three’s a Crowd’.

Abigail: [To Jeff] That’s good. Do you suppose we’d be able to actually get doctors to operate on the floor of our talk show? [To Simon] And here or somewhere else, what difference does it make if a man juggling saws cuts his hand off here or on his own front lawn? If he’s going to do it anyway, the man should at least get paid for it. Besides, I just want to pressure the network into owning up to what they did and giving that poor stuntman, Ryan, a bit more of what he’s owed for his broken back.

Neil: Who?

Riza: I don’t like this. Somebody is going to get hurt.

Simon: Wait. Aren’t you the network? Are mommy and daddy fighting? Am I going to have to choose which one of you I want to live with?

Neil: And when somebody is inevitably injured and our show is canned, we’ll have made enough money to retire, right?

Abigail: I can do you one better for that, actually. I spoke to MSNBC earlier and they’re ready to pick up your show now. Just think how much your salaries are going to spike after next month and through a spending spree on ads.

Simon: Why don’t you just spend the money directly on the stuntman?

Abigail: I can’t just spend it wherever I like like that. These are business expenses. Besides, the network is going to be paying for both when I’m through with them.

Neil: You want to know what I think?

Abigail: You want to know what I think of that question?

Neil: I don’t think you’re going to be satisfied until there really is an injury here.

Abigail: Well that’s simply not true, Neil.

Neil: This isn’t like you, Abbey. I don’t know what’s gotten you into such a frantic stir, but try and sleep on it.

Abigail: Don’t tell me what is and isn’t like me. If I do it, it’s me, isn’t it?

Neil: Abbey. Clear your head. It isn’t worth someone else’s well-being.

Abigail: Oh, I suppose you’re right. Don’t lecture me Neil, but I suppose I’ll think of another way, too.

Jeff: There’s a man in the local paper in Markham who says he’s going to cut his arm off during a production of Macbeth.

Abigail: Say that again, Jeff.

Simon: What?

Jeff: There’s a man in the paper, says he’s going to cut his arm off for a play. Looks like he’s doing it to sell tickets.

Abigail: When is it? Has the story picked up any momentum yet?

Jeff: April and I don’t know.

Abigail: Well, you have to get him for me. Jeff, this is incredible. Is it true? I mean, could it possibly be real? We’ll book him as a magic act. It’s perfect! He’ll say outright he’s going to cut his arm off and no one will believe him-

Simon: No one loses their arm in Macbeth. Aren’t you just being a bully to get your own way, Abigail?

Abigail: And you’re terrorizing the new girl with an empty box. We’re no different.

Simon: [To Riza] It was empty, see? Shit.

[Simon drops the box and shivers as if to rid himself of a rodent. Riza screams.]

Abigail: Nice recovery, Simon.

Simon: Thanks.

Abigail: Neil, I’m not saying the whole thing is set in stone, but bring that man in. I want to speak to him.

[Exeunt.]

Act II Scene II
[A hospital corridor with an office and hospital room adjacent to it. Enter Vienna, who is walking down the hall and Mr. Rathburn, sitting in his office.]

Rathburn: Vienna, can I speak to you for a moment?

Vienna: Yes Mr. Rathburn.

Rathburn: I know you only started working with us recently, and I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but you realize- I mean, I did make it clear to you when you first signed on with us that our company has something of a tenuous relationship with certain hospitals around the country, right?

Vienna: Yes sir, you made that clear.

Rathburn: And you know that these relationships are largely based on a demand for our services in the relatively rare situation that somebody coming into one of these hospitals actually needs our help?

Vienna: Yes sir.

Rathburn: Again, I can’t stress enough how important it is that we show that what we have to offer, our prosthetics, are truly valuable to those who need them. I mean, you can see that what we offer is valuable, can’t you?

Vienna: Yes.

Rathburn: So what happened? I don’t want to imply that you were at fault or anything, but that patient you were looking at the other week, Mr. Edwards, why wasn’t he interested?

Vienna: I don’t know, sir, but he was very adamant about it.

Rathburn: You didn’t even ask him?

Vienna: I asked him if he wanted it, he said no.

Rathburn: No, no, you didn’t ask him why he didn’t want it, I mean.

Vienna: No. Why would I?

Rathburn: Listen, Vienna, all of these people coming in have gone through something terrible. They’re all mixed up inside. You can’t imagine that you’re just going to tell them what the best option is and they’re just going to take it every time. Not that they’re not capable of making decisions on their own, it’s just… What I mean is just… Well have you tried being a little more sympathetic towards them?

Vienna: Sympathetic?

Ratburn: Well, yes.

Vienna: With respect, sir, I’m a prosthetician. I did not study for so many years just so I could knock on people’s doors and tell them to buy my product. This is not how I want to spend all my time and energy, and besides, I am not suited to it either. I can’t do such a thing. Not well.

Rathburn: It’s not going to be all your time, but you’re just going to have to learn to adjust. Now, I realize you may not have imagined doing this kind of work when you were going through school, but this is a business, same as anything else, and businesses need clients. No clients, no money; and without the money, the engineering just can’t be done. So I’m really going to need you to start trying to cooperate a little more. Go put a smile on and try talking to this Mr. Edwards again, he’s back in the hospital for some tests today. This time figure out what it is he needs, and how it is our technology can help him with it.

Vienna: Yes sir. I will try.

Rathburn: Oh, and Vienna. Just try to lighten up a bit, okay?

[Exeunt. Cara and Roman are waiting in an adjacent hospital room.]

Cara: So I went out the other day to Macy’s. I wanted to get this bag I saw there last month, but it was three-hundred dollars. Which, you know, is kind of worth it for an LV bag, but it’s still really expensive. I was passing by last week and saw they were having a twenty percent off sale, on everything. Now, that may not seem like a lot to you, but it’s a good sixty bucks. It’s worth the trip. Anyway, I was passing by when I saw the sale, didn’t have any money on me at the time, so I went in thinking I would miss it if I waited till I happened to be walking around here again with my wallet. I took a rain check. And, umm… Oh yeah. So I took a rain check and I came in this week not really thinking of it, but I see the sign and remember. Now, I have an appointment in ten minutes, but I figure I can run in and grab it and be on my way. I go up to the counter and this girl, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen, is just standing there chatting with her friend. Doesn’t even look up at me. No, ‘I’m sorry, I’ll be with you in a moment.’ Nothing. Just pretends I’m not there. Fine, whatever. I’m not going to make a scene out of it when I only have two minutes till my appointment, but I’m going to say something. So, ‘Excuse me’, I say, very gently, but with an air of urgency. Still nothing. ‘Excuse me’, I say again, a bit louder. I feel like I’m going to have to start flicking my fingers in front of her face soon just to get her attention, but she finally looks over and has the gall to respond to me, after so many minutes of nothing, with a bright and sunny, plastic, ‘Hi! How can I help you?’ So I said to her, you know, ‘Sorry to interrupt you and your friend here, but when you have a moment, do you think you could reach your chubby little fingers into that drawer in front of you and pull out the purse in there I’ve had on rain check since last week?’ She tells me she has no reserved purse and it’s at this point that I may have lost my temper. I called her many things that I will not repeat here, but can I make a confession to you, Roman? I realized about halfway through my ungodly cursing that I had made an error, that the bag I had reserved was actually in a mall in an entirely different city. Can you imagine it? Now, and be honest, do you think I, realizing the folly of my ways, corrected myself then and there and moved forward from an honest position? Well, of course I didn’t. If anything, my attacks become more insidious and vulgar. In fact, I tried to get her fired soon after, and in truth, now more than ever I wanted to take a nearby hanger and shove it down her throat, just to see if the idiot look on her face could conceivably be evaporated, and to watch her friend’s smug grin turned to horror. Of course, I didn’t go that far. You have to find a way to adapt in the world or else you simply won’t survive. Sometimes in spite of yourself. I used to be poor, you know. I bet that’s something you didn’t know about me. Not licking the boots of passersby from a dirty blanket on the sidewalk poor, but poor enough. I’ve lived in shelters, gone days without eating, or had only dry cereal, or bread. One thing you’ll learn pretty quickly is that it’s amazing what people will do when they think no one’s looking, and no one’s looking in places where the tap water smells too much like sewage to drink, or where abusive lovers come for family reunions. If you have no friends in the world, you don’t exist. You should remember that. If people don’t think anything of you, that’s what you are, is nothing. It scares me to think that a person like that might one day be thought of the same as me. Maybe tomorrow she’ll go out and buy a bag just like this one, and the day after that, become assistant CEO of some advertising firm, yet what’s inside that head of hers? Nothing but dust and bone.

[Enter Vienna with clipboard and pencil. Exit Cara.]

Vienna: Good morning Mr. Edwards. How are you feeling today? Good. I just wanted to come by and, well, first of all, maybe say I am sorry if I said anything last time that might’ve been offensive to you. Did I? Here, let’s let some light in. I am not used to thinking of what exactly it might be like to suffer a trauma. I am sorry if I just don’t have perspective for such a thing. To me it is just whether it is better to live one way or another. Do you know anything about our company? I made a list, in case you didn’t feel like talking, it is very easy. Here. [Vienna hands Roman the clipboard and pencil] In the top area are check boxes for how you would like to improve in the next few months. Below that, there are possible options for why you might have reservations about prosthetics. Of course, there is an ‘other’ option to explain your own personal thoughts if the options listed are not valid. You can ask me any questions.

[Roman drops the pencil]

Roman: Go pick that up for me. Please.

[Vienna returns the pencil to Roman]

Roman: Why should I?

Vienna: Why should you what?

Roman: Answer your questions. Listen to you. Make any kind of effort, for you. You want something from me, but I don’t want anything from you, so why should I take any time thinking of it. Tell me.

Vienna: I don’t know. What is it that you want?

Roman: Were you not listening to what I just said?

Vienna: I was, but-

Roman: Say it back to me then.

Vienna: Really?

Roman: Yes.

Vienna: You said… You asked me why you should put in any effort when you didn’t want anything in return.

Roman: Is that a hard concept to grasp?

Vienna: No.

Roman: Is there some part of my reasoning that doesn’t make sense to you then?

Vienna: Well, yes, I don’t understand why you have to be such an asshole about it.

Roman: I’m being an asshole.

Vienna: Yes.

Roman: Aren’t you the one trying to peddle your goods to a cripple? Don’t fake your concern for me. Don’t make me laugh. You’re in the business of suffering, and I’m your only customer.

Vienna: Well. Maybe if the arm had some feature that allowed it to pour pity on you, it would be a more appealing option. I’m trying to help you, and for some reason it’s me you’ve chosen to throw your weight against. Perhaps I’m not the only one though, only the last. If you were selfishly taking tantrums with everyone who came to comfort you, I guess it would explain your empty room each time I come here to see you.

Roman: Please spare me your charity at least, if not your consolations. Whether it comes with an actual price tag attached, or just the thought of how you’re spreading good in the world, an act to reinforce some novel view of a warm and caring world is not an act done for me, it’s for you. I’m merely incidental, a necessary bystander for the propagation of your fantastic delusion.

Vienna: If that’s what you think, what could I, or anybody for that matter, possibly do to show you we were being genuine?

Roman: Show me yourself doing something that you don’t want to do more than any other option.

Vienna: I’m talking to you.

Roman: Only because you don’t want to lose an argument, and the gains that could’ve been made if not for it’s loss.

Vienna: So everything is selfish? What a useful idea you’ve understood, with no possibility to find anything to go against it it. It covers everything, all definitions. It encompasses everything, yet it means nothing. If this kind of cynicism is easier for you, it helps you more comfortably shoulder the burden, I understand. You do only have one.

Roman: Well, ultimately, I guess you’re right. I don’t really have anything else to say, so you can tell me about your prosthetics.

Vienna: Okay, well, can you tell me what it is you had reservations about before? Please.

Roman: I just couldn’t think of it. I didn’t want to think about adjusting to a new life, about rehabilitation, about working so hard just to almost be somewhat normal.

Vienna: It’s not that hard, you know. Just do a little each day.

Roman: And the prosthetic arm, how much will I be able to control it?

Vienna: It’s really incredible. We used to connect the prosthetics so that they were sensitive and connected directly to nerve-endings, but it’s now controlled mostly through those… How do I explain it? They are like ear buds, but they act as an electroencephalograph, recording your thoughts to help you move.

Roman: Do they all have this feature?

Vienna: No. This is the newest model, the most advanced only. It’s called the Intuitive Grasp.

Roman: And do you think I should get this one then?

Vienna: I think it’s definitely the most advanced, yes.

Roman: Now, aren’t you glad the conversation went in this direction?

Vienna: I’m sorry?

Roman: For the sale, wasn’t it a lot easier when I politely followed instructions like that and quietly encouraged the progress towards my finally saying yes to it?

Vienna: You really are an asshole. I thought if I tried to be nice and supportive, you’d at least be human.

Roman: Sorry, was that before or after you made fun of me for not having an arm?

Vienna: … After.

Roman: Could you speak up a bit, please? It gets a bit depressing when it’s so quiet in here, and you know I can’t cup my hand to my ear to hear you any better.

Vienna: I said it was after.

Roman: Good. Isn’t it better too when we can all speak honestly and openly about what we mean like this? No euphemisms or false pretenses, no beating around the bush, just saying exactly what you mean plainly.

Vienna: Why are you being like this?

Roman: Because I can, because it’s entertaining, because I think what you’re doing is no different than ambulance chasing, so how could I possibly worry about offending you? Pick one.

[Vienna slaps him across the face.]

Roman: Well if you do it, it must be fine.

[Roman slaps her back. Infuriated, Vienna returns it and the two have a furious slapping fight that ends in making out.]
[Exeunt.]

Act II Scene III
[The writers’ studio. Enter Abigail, Neil, and Jeff]

Abigail: Well where is he already?

Jeff: He’ll be here, Abigail, don’t worry.

Abigail: And how do you know?

Neil: Jeez, you’re antsy.

[Enter Liam]

Liam: Sorry I’m late, I had to stop over at the-

Abigail: Are you telling the truth or not?

Liam: Come again?

Abigail: About your arm. You are the right person, aren’t you? Liam Maxwell?

Neil: What she means is, ‘please come in and have a seat’. Want some coffee? Just brewed a fresh pot.

Liam: No, thank you.

Neil: So what brings you here? How can we help you?

Liam: I am Liam Maxwell. I came here because I was asked to, but to be honest, I’m not really sure why. The person I spoke with on the phone didn’t exactly explain very much, but he did say that this is where the Tonite Late Nite Late Show is produced.

Abigail: Yes, that’s right. You’re an actor, right Liam?

Liam: I want to be. I was in a commercial once.

Abigail: I know, I’ve seen it. It’s hard to tell from just seeing someone hand over a tray of burgers what’s going to become of them, but of course, it’s a good place to start if you want to get into tv or movies.

Liam: That’s what I’m hoping.

Neil: So, I’m curious. And forgive me if this is too bold to ask while we’re still all getting to know each other, but how is it you went from fast-food commercials to amputating your arm in an original production of Macbeth?

Liam: Well, that’s a reasonable question, of course. I just wanted to be taken seriously, I guess, as an actor. I want to do something incredible, that no one else has done, or could do. I know that a lot of people think this is just a gimmick, but I’m serious about it. I think the more you give to something, the more you sacrifice for it, the more meaning it gains. Even if it’s just for a play, it means something to tell people a story like this.

Neil: And the loss of your arm, that’s just a very minor ordeal.

Liam: Eh, it’s not really that big a deal, to be honest. It’s just an arm. I have a spare. Besides, prosthetics are becoming so sophisticated these days that the fake arm I’ll be getting is arguably better than the real one.

Neil: Better? In what way?

Liam: Well, I mean, pound for pound it’s stronger. Never ages, no health issues, stays evenly tanned all year long. I am a little bit worried about the actual cutting though, I’ll be honest.

Neil: When they cut the entirety of your arm off, you mean?

Liam: Yeah…

Neil: No, I’m sure it’ll be fine. What’ve you got to worry about? Incidentally though and changing topics completely, I’ve heard the psychiatric care in this city is top-notch. I could probably get you a discount somewhere if you were interested.

Liam. Thanks. I mean, I have some things to work out, yeah.

Neil: Maybe you should do that before you cut your arm off.

Liam: Oh no. That’s unrelated.

Abigail: Liam. You want to show people what you’d be willing to do for your craft, is that right?

Liam: Yes, that’s part of it.

Abigail: Well what good is something like that if only a handful of people see it? Which sounds better to you, fifty people watching you from some cramped, dimly-lit, hole-in-the-wall theater, or millions of people tuning in from across the country to watch your big moment?

Liam: Obviously, millions of people is better.

Abigail: I like this guy, he comes directly to the plainly obvious answer.

Neil: Maybe you should come to the part where you’re changing every other aspect of his idea. If only your questions were as plain as his answers.

Abigail: I’m getting to it, keep your trousers on, Neil, one of us is still trying to be decent. So right, what I’m offering you is a chance to perform on the Tonite Late Nite Late Show, but I would need you to do things a bit differently if you do decide to accept my offer.

Liam: I don’t know. I appreciate it, but I already have everything worked out for this production.

Abigail: Forget the production. Do you know who I am? You want to make it to the top, well I’m there already. I make stars. Mark Wahlberg, Juno Temple, Michael Fassbender, who do you think got them their big breakthrough roles? I know how this business works better than anyone in this room. I’ve been in it longer. And what you need to make it as a top-notch actor is not incredible acting skill or some grand act of dedication, people just need to like you, and before they can like you, they’ve got to know who you are. Your name needs brand power, and as sure as the sun comes up tomorrow, you’re not going to get that from some small-time theater in Markham.

Jeff: You could technically do both.

Abigail: Quiet, Jeff.

Liam: What are you suggesting then?

Abigail: I want you to do a magic act for me. For the show.

Liam: I’m sorry, a what?

Abigail: A magic act.

Liam: I’m… Not a magician.

Abigail: Don’t get so hung up on details. We’ll have someone teach you all that, won’t we? No, the magic act itself is a kind of play. One where the whole country is your audience, where the real magic is that you’ll tell them what you’re going to do, and then do exactly that thing.

Liam: That doesn’t sound like magic. That doesn’t sound like acting or magic. That just sounds like… I don’t know. Real life?

Abigail: No no no, you’re not understanding me right.

Neil: I think some of the silver has rubbed off from your tongue, Abigail; it’s blinding him when it catches the light.

Abigail: Quiet now Neil, I haven’t finished yet. No, imagine a magician who tells you he’s going to fly or disappear, and then actually does that. Not through strings or mirrors or trap doors, but actually flies. Real magic. When you get up there and tell people you’re going to cut your arm off , who will believe you? Think about it. You’ll go up there and say to people directly, plain as day, “And now I’m going to cut off my arm”, and the whole audience will be thinking, “How is he gonna do it?” And, “What’s the trick?” And then you do exactly what you’ve told them. The most obvious thing, the plainest; telling someone what you’re going to do and then actually doing that thing, becomes suddenly the most incredible.

Liam: So like a hoax?

Abigail: No, not a hoax. A performance, but one where all the audience takes a part. Okay, so yes like a hoax a bit, but isn’t that the best possible thing? To get a real and palpable response from the people watching you?

Liam: Well, you know, it sounded terrible the first time you brought it up, but the longer you speak, the more I begin to come around to your side.

Neil: Abigail, you never cease to impress me.

Abigail: I know you love me Neil, don’t let that stinking expression on your face become a permanent fixture.

Liam: I had a stage hand. I mean, I have this sleeve that will come up automatically when the cut is made, to help stop the bleeding, but also there was this man who knew where to make the cut. He was also going to come up and help with the bleeding.

Abigail: Jeff will do it.

Jeff: What?

Liam: He was a doctor.

Abigail: Okay, well. Bring him in. We’ll work him into the act.

Liam: He’s not going to be happy. I mean, no one is, but he put a lot of time into getting ready for this play. I don’t know if he’ll do it.

Abigail: Everyone who gets paid is happy. Here, give him my card and tell him to speak to me, don’t tell him what for either. I’ll take care of that detail, so don’t even think about it.

Liam: Okay. Well. That sounds good then. Actually, you know, can I think about it? It sounds good, but I just want to make sure and clear my head.

Abigail: No. I’m sorry. I don’t offer a live television spot to just anyone off the street, and I certainly don’t make the offer twice. Decide now before you walk through that door.

Neil: Abigail, live?

Liam: Okay, I’ll do it.

Abigail: Great. We’ll have someone pick you up in three days to get you ready for rehearsal. Now, I’ve got two more meetings to make before three, so unfortunately I’m going to have to cut this short, but I’m excited about working with you and making this happen. Are you excited? Yeah? Great. Now Liam, you know you can’t tell anyone about this if you want to make it really work. Wonderful, take care now.

[Exit Liam]

Neil: Abbey, we can’t let this go through, the man is not well.

Abigail: We can and we will. If he’s going to be sick, he’s going to be sick on my show. I won’t let him waste something so inconceivably gruesome on some dank old theater in Markham. Markham, of all places! I just won’t do it. It’s bad television.

Neil: Abbey, he needs a doctor, not an audience.

Abigail: Now listen to me Neil, don’t cross me on this. I like you and I want to keep being your friend, and you want to keep being my friend, so don’t make a fuss where everyone is getting what they want. Here, give me a kiss so I can know there’s no bad blood between us.

[Cheek kissing. Exit Abigail.]

Neil: What a terrifying woman.

[Exeunt.]

























Act III Scene I
[A theatre with construction workers. Enter Jeff and Riza.]

Riza: Wow. This really was going to be amazing.

Jeff: I know, I’m really surprised at, well, just how big everything is. Even the theatre itself. Markham really cares about their arts programs.

Riza: I know.

Jeff: Thanks for coming out here with me.

Riza: This was a really cool idea.

Jeff: Do you want to try maybe interviewing some of the workers here? You said you were thinking about becoming a journalist one day, right?

Riza: Yeah, I was thinking about it.

Jeff: I like to come out and just talk to people sometimes. People doing their jobs, just wait for something to happen. Maybe an up-and-coming local bank is opening and they’re trying to attract customers, or there’s a parade, and no one really knows what it’s about, but they heard a lot of noise and got drawn in. I just ask them what they think, I don’t really know what to expect, but sometimes it gives me ideas for the show.

Riza: Do you ever think about what it might be like being the host? The host of your own show, I mean.

Jeff: No. God, no. I’d be absolutely terrible with something like that. I get pale and my hands get all clammy just thinking about being out there in front of everyone. The cameras. Do you know I came this close to having to fight my way out of having to go up on stage the other day and actually… Well, you don’t even want to know what.

[Enter Amy]

Amy: Hey, did you guys hear about the play that was going to happen here?

Jeff, Riza: Yeah.

Amy: It’s crazy, isn’t it? I don’t think I could’ve sat through something like that though.

Jeff: Are you not part of all of this?

Amy: No, no. I’m a nurse, but my brother is working part-time on the set here. I just came to pick him up.

Riza: Aren’t you used to seeing things like cuts and bleeding when patients come in?

Amy: Well, sometimes, but not like this though. There’s something upsetting about thinking of someone doing it on purpose, I guess, and in front of so many people too. You know there’s going to be a bunch of impressionable kids watching. I’m glad he’s not going to go through with it in the end though, anyway.

Jeff: So. Did you always know you wanted to be a nurse?

Amy: No... When I was younger I actually wanted to be a plumber. My dad was a plumber, and I guess I just wanted to follow in his footsteps. He worked so hard though, he really ended up working himself sick, and I had to take care of him while my mom was out working. I didn’t mind it though. I loved it actually, having him home all the time and being able to suddenly spend so much time with him. But then… Well, anyway, I guess after that I just kind of fell into nursing and healthcare.

Jeff: And do you still love it? Is it the same as when you first started?

Amy: Yes, definitely. I mean, it’s hard and the hours are long, and really sometimes it’s just day in and day out grueling work, but I really love it. We have this old lady that comes in sometimes. She has MS and a whole bunch of liver problems, and it’s just heart wrenching, but she’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Every time she comes in, she makes a point of coming back the day after she’s released and bringing in baked cookies and tarts for all the staff, even the custodial workers. She’ll hunt them down and ask for them by name and get sad if they’re not in and when they are, thank them for all the work they do keeping her room clean. We try to tell her that it’s fine and she doesn’t have to go through so much trouble, but she just looks so happy about seeing us all. She’s in a lot, talks endlessly about her children, but do you know I’ve never seen one of them come in to visit or pick her up? It really breaks my heart. Anyway, I don’t mean to interrupt. You two look like you’re on a date. Maybe?

Jeff: No no no, not at all. It’s nice to hear a story like that. What’s the name of the lady who comes in? Maybe we can send her some flowers or something.

Amy: Aww, that’s awfully sweet. Her name is Gertrude Welles, and I work at the Markham Stouffville Hospital. Anyway, it looks like my brother is finished now, so I’m going to take off. It was nice meeting you both though.

[Exit Amy]

Jeff: Or sometimes I don’t even have to ask.

Riza: I’m going to quit soon.

Jeff: You’re what?

Riza: I don’t know about this job, Jeff. I don’t want to be a part of it. I know it’s not going to be like this always, but even when I think about my parents, if they knew I was part of all this, they’d just be so ashamed of me.

Jeff: Is that how you feel?

Riza: I just don’t want to do it. I’ll think of something else, but I-
Anyway, I’m not going to tell the others, but I thought it would be okay to tell you.

Jeff: Well I appreciate that, Riza. [Trying to force the words out] It will be sad that you’re… gone.

[Riza kisses Jeff on the cheek]
[Exeunt.]

Act III, Scene II
[The writer’s studio. Enter Abigail, Vienna, The Doctor, Chuck, and Liam.]

Chuck: Then just cut straight up, like this. You’re going to be cutting through tendon, muscle, and bone, but hopefully the sword will be sharp enough to do that without too much trouble. Have you been practicing it?

Doctor: Oh yes, every day, but I’m still very nervous.

Chuck: Can I see it?

[The doctor cuts straight up through a braced raw piece of meat (or a phonebook), cutting it in two.]

Chuck: Well, that looks pretty good to me. Just make sure you do the follow through just like that when the time comes. And be sure to keep a firm grip on the handle. This is a live weapon, so, of course, you don’t want it flying into the audience.

Doctor: Okay.

Abigail: You’re doing wonderfully. If anyone cared any less and didn’t take this responsibility with this same grave sort of seriousness, they wouldn’t be suited to the role. You’re really doing great.

Liam: So can we talk about the introduction to it one more time?

Doctor: Yes, let’s go over it. Please.

Liam: Okay, so. The whole point of this show is to make this one trick look believably unbelievable. No matter what kind of nonsense I say, it’s for the audience. We want to make it look like something went horribly wrong before the curtain is drawn, so I’ll say “no no no, wait” or something like this. Well really I’m just going to try and feel out the moment and improvise, so it might be kind of random, but as soon as I start speaking incoherently, like it’s not part of the act, that’s when I want you to cut. Then the curtains will be drawn, [To Abigail] we are installing curtains for this segment, right?

Abigail: Yes, that’s fine.

Liam: And when it comes back up, we’ll take a bow to let the audience know everything is alright.

Doctor: Okay.

Liam: It’s all going to be great.

Doctor: Okay.

Liam: Look at me. You’re great. You’re amazing. You can do this.

Doctor: Thank you, Liam.

Abigail: Well, I think that’s enough practice for today. All of this looks great, what do you say we all go out for some lunch?

Doctor: That sounds good.

Liam: Yeah, just give me a minute. I’ll be down shortly.

[Enter Roman. Exit Vienna, the doctor, and Abigail. Vienna tenses up and gives Roman the stink eye as she passes him.]

Roman: Do you know this used to be an old fertilizer plant? This whole block actually.

Liam: No.

Roman: History is amazing, isn’t it? One day something is relevant and important and necessary, and the next, it isn’t. What is it then? Well, it’s history. People think that that happens gradually over time, but it’s not true. The world changes gradually, but a factory is closed in a day.

Liam: Do I know you?

Roman: No, I know you though.

Liam: Who am I then?

Roman: Well, I don’t want to tell you everything, maybe you don’t know exactly who you are and all the details that make up your life, and who am I to spoil it for you? I know you’re Liam Maxwell though, and I know you’re going to cut that arm of yours off tomorrow.

Liam: It’s the left arm, actually.

Roman: That’s smart. I really should’ve thought of that.

Liam: Listen, I don’t know if I’ve done anything to you, but I’m feeling a kind of hostility coming my way here. Did I offend you or something?

Roman: No no. No. You didn’t do anything to me, quite the opposite I guess. You do offend me though. I suppose there’s no getting around saying that so long as I want to keep being honest. Not anything you’ve done though, just you as a person, and in a general kind of way.

Liam: I’m leaving.

Roman: Whoa. Hold on now, friend. I mean you no harm. You asked me a question, and I simply tried to answer you honestly, you shouldn’t perceive that as me making an effort to intimidate you, or extract from this simple statement that I could be some kind of violent threat.

Liam: Yeah, but oddly that still kind of sounds like the sort of thing a violent threat would say.

Roman: What do I have on me? I am almost completely unarmed.

Liam: Well, what do you have a problem with me for?

Roman: You disgust me, I guess is what it comes down to. You are an exploitation artist making a profit off of other people’s suffering. It amounts to nothing more than a mockery for those who have actually gone through some great tragedy. You want to be a real actor, but all you can do is hack off limbs to get any sort of attention, which should tell you either or both that no one really wants to pay attention to you in the first place, or that you’re not actually any good at the job you’re so desperate to jump into.

Liam: Well, thanks for that insight. As far as I’m concerned though, it’s not any of your business. You can’t speak on behalf of all people with trauma because you’ve experienced one, and if you say you don’t want me to do it and someone else who has no arm says they do want me to do it, then what makes your opinion so much more valid? You’re not a part of some elite and exclusive group, you don’t get to decide the rules for membership. And as for all the other stuff you said, kindly go fuck yourself, thanks, I didn’t ask you.

Roman: Hmm, actually you did. I don’t want to split hairs or anything, but you did say to tell you what I had a problem with you for. You did say that

Liam: Okay, but before that, and before I asked… Whatever it is I asked before. I didn’t ask you… I didn’t want you to come in and start harassing me. I mean, that much should be obvious.

Roman: My mistake then, being receptive to criticism is not a trait that serious artists share anyway. They always just go off and do their own thing, indifferent to the world around them.

Liam: Alright. What else?

Roman: Today an arm, tomorrow a leg, but when the spectacle is over, the world will once again turn it’s back on you. You’ll be some quirky story that people laugh at, remember the vague details of to pass off over dinner, and then forget. You’re a punchline to a joke that hasn’t been told yet, and when it is told, you’ll be “that guy”, and not anything even remotely like Liam Maxwell. Do you want to know why you haven’t gotten anywhere? All you care about is attention, you want so desperately for someone to look at you, to look at what kind of guts and spirit you have inside, that you’ve obsessively washed over anything that might’ve once resembled any kind of substance, or anything interesting; that the thing people will be looking at now is nothing more than an empty façade.

Liam: Yeah, well, you’re a twat, so… You have that going for you and I don’t. Goodbye friend, it was oh so pleasant meeting you.

[Exit Liam. Enter Cara]

Cara: You didn’t make much of an impact there.

Roman: He brushed it off easily and I couldn’t exactly start any fight, never mind win one, but you can’t ignore the truth, least of all when someone’s said it plainly to you. Even small cuts fester when they’re ignored.

Act III Scene III
[Backstage to the Tonite’s Late Nite Late Show. Enter Liam, Vienna, Abigail, and Nathaniel with a glass of water. Michael Starsinski is in the audience. Security is on set.]

Nathaniel: Hey man, how’s it going? You excited? Nervous?

Liam: Yeah. I’m- I’m doing alright, thanks. Just a bit nervous, is all.

Nathaniel: You’re going to be marvelous. You were born for this, remember. I mean, not for having your arm cut off, obviously, that’s kind of grim. But for acting I mean. You look a bit spacey though, are you doing alright?

Liam: Thanks. And yeah, thanks. What’s that you’ve got there?

Nathaniel: Oh. One of those spiny cladocerans I was telling you about. Just something to commemorate our big Eureka moment. You know. I guess a good luck charm, is all.

Liam: Thanks Nathaniel, that’s oddly sweet. Where is it though? I don’t see anything, are you sure this is the right cup?

Nathaniel: Yeah, it’s just small, that’s all.

[Enter the doctor, sweating and gasping for air]

Doctor: I’m so sorry I’m late Liam, I know how important it is for you to get everything right on your big day.

Liam: It’s fine, really. We have lots of time before the act.

Abigail: We’ll be ready in ten minutes, okay? Are you feeling good? Great? Amazing? Good. Just remember what we went through and you’ll be brilliant. The cameras are gonna love you, kid.

Liam: Thanks, Abigail. [To the doctor] We have a little bit of time, but everything will be good. Are you feeling okay?

Doctor: Yes. I’m late actually because I bought a hundred hams to cut through today, and I just wanted to make sure I got through all of them.

[Enter James]

James: Hey guys, I heard your act is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and I can’t wait. I’m super excited. I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m James Christensen, I’m the host of the show, if you haven’t already recognized me from my gorgeous hair and charming vermin-like smile. I just wanted you to know that if you needed anything at all, just talk to Susan, she’s there to help, and, yeah! Good luck out there. Don’t break a leg, our insurance plan is terrible.

[Exit James]

Liam: Okay, we have ten minutes, let’s go over the act one more time, okay?

Doctor: Yes, that sounds good.

Liam: I want you to introduce me again, even if the host does. It’s important that even if whatever YouTube clips that come out of this get shortened, it’s my name in the video sequence, okay?

Doctor: Yes.

Liam: Then I’m going to do my magic stuff with the audience. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll say, “And now, for my next trick, I’m going to have my entire arm cut off, right before your eyes!” Without saying it’s the last act, and that’s when you need to start paying attention. Remember to swing up through the armpit, not down past the shoulder, okay?

Doctor: Okay, I remember.

Liam: After that, when I scream or collapse, or whatever I do. I can’t really plan for that part very well. Probably won’t have a great deal of control over my actions, but I want you to come in, no matter what, and just make sure you press that towel tightly against my wound. You did bring the towel with you, right?

Doctor: Yes.

Liam: The sword too?

Doctor: Yes, I have it.

Liam: Good. Remember to try not to let the audience see how thick the towel is, and when that all happens, the curtain’s going to be closed and we can do some very quick emergency care, but I want to be up in a minute or so to take a bow. You can lift me, right?

Doctor: Yes, I can.

Liam: Can I make a confession to you too, doctor?

Doctor: Yes, anything.

Liam: I’m a little bit high right now. I don’t know how or if that’s going to affect anything out there, but just be aware of that if I start… Doing anything weird.

Doctor: Yes. I completely understand.

Liam: You’re the best, doctor. I haven’t said this before, but I want you to know that you are my absolute best friend in the whole world. I love you. Do you understand that? With all my heart. Let’s make this the most beautiful thing anyone has ever seen.

Doctor: I am right there with you every step of the way.

Liam: Oh! And remember, I’m going to say a lot of nonsense right before you make the cut, probably, but if I say “Lemon Cakes”, that means do not cut. Drop everything. Do you understand?

Doctor: Yes, of course! I have burned it into my memory.

Abigail: So you’re the opening act of the show, the very first thing people will see. This is gonna be broadcast live, but don’t worry if you make any small mix ups out there. Just relax and enjoy yourself and you’ll do great. Did you have a look at the stage to see where you’ll stand to situate yourself behind the curtains?

Liam: Yes, we know all the walkthrough and stage and camera positioning and everything.

Abigail: That’s great. Wonderful. I believe in you Liam, I really do.

[Abigail is exhausted and sits down for a brief rest. Enter Mark]

Mark: Abigail! Abbey! Just what on God’s green Earth do you think you’re doing here? Have you actually lost your Goddamn mind?

Abigail: Mark, it’s so good to see you again. How’s Ellie and the kids? I know it was little Julia’s birthday last week, I’m sorry I didn’t come out or get a present for her, but please send her my love just the same.

Mark: Is this a joke for you? Are you laughing at all this in that sick little head of yours?

Abigail: Of course not Mark, what kind of person do you take me for? A joke can be told by anyone, only I could’ve put together something like this.

Mark: Well I’m telling the host, I’ll tell security. This is not going to happen.

Abigail: Tell them. Do you think they haven’t read the programme? I’ve spent half a million telling people Liam there is going to cut his arm off tonight. You’ll be a good sell to the act. Even some poor soul all the way up from the top of the ladder thinks Liam’s magic is too potent to be seen on air.

Mark: I know you think you’re winning a fight, Abigail, but this isn’t worth it. Think about what you’re doing! This man’s life is on the line here.

Abigail: Oh don’t be so melodramatic Mark. You’re such a child when you don’t get your own way. He’ll be fine, he has a doctor with him.

Mark: You’re a maniac. I’m stopping you, Abigail. I swear, if it’s the last thing I do on Earth, I’m going to dedicate myself to proper health and safety practices, and it’s going to start here.

Abigail: You’re not going to do anything. Go sulk in your car.

[Exit Mark]

Abigail: Okay guys, you’re up in two minutes. Get ready.

Vienna: Liam.

Liam: Okay, here we go. I love you Vienna, more than anything. Give me a kiss. No matter what happens, know that you were always the strongest force in my heart all these years. It was you that kept me going when I thought there really was no hope for me. I owe everything to you.

Vienna: Liam, I-
I want you to know that I love you too, so much! I want you to know-
Don’t do this if you don’t want to! But if you really do have your heart set on it, I know you’re going to be amazing.

James [On stage]: Please welcome the great, the amazing, Liam Maxwell everyone!

Abigail: Ready?

Liam: Okay, let’s go.

Doctor: Okay. Oh, one second.

[The doctor runs back to grab a drink of water from the glass and they both rush out on stage]

Doctor: Ladies and gentleman, may I please have your [Cough] attention for a moment. [Cough, cough] What you’re about to see tonight [Cough] is-

[The doctor breaks out into a coughing fit and can not finish. Nathaniel eyes the half full cup of water from back stage]

Nathaniel: Oh no.

[Nathaniel rushes out onto the stage to hold the doctor, who is now gasping and coughing from the floor of the stage]

Nathaniel: Help! Is there a doctor on the set tonight? Another doctor? O Why?! Why would I bring a spiny cladoceran into a place like this?! I thought we, humans, were at least safe for a little while longer! Vanity! It’s vanity that’s doomed us in the end.

James: I don’t understand. A cladoceran? Is that an insect? Is he choking on a bug?

Nathaniel: It’s a micro-crustacean! And technically ‘bugs’ only really refer to the hemipteran order of insects! Please! Somebody, even if you’re only in med school, for Christ’s sake.

Michael Starsinski: I’m a doctor.

Nathaniel: Michael Starsinski? You’re not a doctor. I mean, you’re not a real doctor, not the medical kind.

[Michael Starsinski runs up]

Michael Starsinski: I also have a medical degree. It’s technically only valid in Guam though. I studied there in hopes of helping out the children through the famine, but it looks like you’ll just have to make due with me for now.

Nathaniel: There was no famine in Guam, you liar! You charlatan!

James: Okay, get him out of here.

[The security takes Nathaniel out. Nathaniel struggles.]

Nathaniel: You’re a fraud Michael Starsinski! Are you gonna help that dying man like you helped all those fruit flies in your weird sex lab?!

Michael Starsinski: What?


[Exit Nathaniel]

James: Can you help him? Is he gonna be alright?

Michael Starsinski: Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’s probably just choking on water. Cladocerans are too small to interrupt any breathing processes in humans.

[Exit Michael Starsinski and the doctor, who is ambiguously dead]

Liam: La- Ladies and gentleman, please pardon me for that brief and probably terrifying interruption. Umm. You- You know, honestly, I. I thought. [In a hollow speaking-whisper, as if becoming breathless] Ahhh, you don’t care about that. [Pauses to reflect with his forehead grasped by his fingers before coming up slightly and focusing intently.] I’m being told that my good assistant is in good and welcoming hands, and, uhhhh. But- but while he receives medical attention, please lend me your… Umm. [Swallows] Attention. [Aside] Fffuuuck, they know I don’t have a headset. [End aside]

Abigail [Still backstage with Vienna, and speaking as if into her bluetooth]: No, keep rolling. Listen to me, I have a replacemen- No, it’s fine. There’s a replacement ready now. Yes, that’s right. [To Vienna] You have to go out there. You’re the only other person who knows the routine.

Vienna: I can’t.

Abigail: Yes you can. I know that you haven’t emotionally prepared for this, but if it’s not you, it’s going to be some incompetent backstage stooge here. You’re a prosthetician, you’ve studied this sort of thing, and you know the routine inside out. Just go. You’re ready for this and Liam needs you, now more than ever.

Vienna: Okay.

[Vienna goes out on stage and whispers into Liam’s ear.]

Liam: [To Vienna] Okay. [To the audience, gaining confidence] As I was saying, the show. [Creepy audience gaze] It must go on. [Wildly pacing around the set, trying to emanate this confidence and build himself up] You’re all familiar with… Magic. [Here, he unfolds his hand to pull a dove from his sleeve, but it’s dead. He drops it.] Oh fuck. Nevermind that. [He kicks the dove out of the way, but it’s still clearly visible on set.]

Vienna: [To Liam] You don’t have to do this still.

Liam: [To Vienna] I do. [To the audience] For my first trick, Ahhh! Shit. [Pauses to breath heavily while supporting himself by the knee, before standing upright and blinking, as if lightheaded.] I will… Here, this is a beach ball. Alright? I’m- [Deep breathing] I’m going to suddenly throw it into the audience so I couldn’t possibly know where it lands, and, uhh… [Suddenly and increasingly very excited] Here, catch! Yes! Haha! Are you ready? Are you all excited?! Let me hear you, who wants this ball? [Aside] Ffffuuuuuck. Okay, that didn’t work. Fuck again. [End aside] Watch it as it floats magnificently into the air! No! Keep passing it. Keep going. Still. I want to have no control whatsoever in where it lands. Wait, wait. You there! [Pauses to hold his head as if blinded by the stage lights] Co-come out here a moment. Yes, you! What’s your name? [Creepy stare again]

Anna: Anna.

Liam: And where are you from, Anna?

Anna: Michigan.

Liam: Great! I’m not really sure why I asked that. Do you have a card in mind when you came up?

Anna: Umm…

[Liam pauses and turns away slightly, as if to calm his beating heart]

Liam: Of-of course you don’t. Why would I even ask that question, you ask? You ask, I ask. You. [Aside, sudden terror.] Oh my god. [End aside.] Okay. Here, hold this deck. [Aside] No, no, no. That was the next one. [End aside.] Just think of a card, any card at all that your heart could possibly desire… Only think of cards in a regular fifty-two card deck. Of course. Y-you know. Was. [Pause] Was it the three of clubs?

Anna: Yes.

Liam: Incredible! Ladies and gentleman please give a great round of applause to Anna. She was really amazing! [To Vienna] We’re doing it now.

Vienna: [To Liam] Now? I thought we were saving it till the end?

Liam: [To Vienna] It’s not going to get any better. Let’s start this on a high note. I got that trick right. That one went great. [To the audience] And now. This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

[Drum roll]

Vienna: [To Liam] Liam-

Liam: [To Vienna] Not now. [To the audience] Before you, you will see something so incredible that it will defy all expectations. I can make a promise to you tonight that this will be like nothing you have ever seen, nor will you ever see it on a stage anywhere in the world. Ever.

Vienna: [To Liam] Liam, don’t-

Liam: I am going to cut the entirety of my arm off right before your eyes. Please turn away if you find that you are of the faint of heart.

Vienna: Liam, I cheated on you. I’m so so so sorry. Please forgive me!

[A tense pause. Liam should appear as if his soul has been sucked from his body, speaking now breathlessly, and almost forgetting where he is, but still mindlessly holding his arm up.]

Liam: Lemon Cakes.

[Vienna swings the sword and cuts Liam’s arm off. This should be followed either by complete silence or a brief yet horrifying scream. Either way, a long and complete silence should follow, broken only by the dull thud of the arm hitting the stage.]

James: Close the curtain!

[Exeunt.]

Epilogue:
[Enter Vienna and Liam, walking through a park. It will look as if Liam has both his arms.]

Vienna: I’m really sorry about cutting your arm off. And that the show wasn’t live, like you thought. And that it will never be aired.

Liam: Oh. That’s alright.

Vienna: Do you think you will still try to be an actor?

Liam: You know, it’s the strangest thing. I seem to have lost my taste for it.

Vienna: It’s okay, we can find you something else to do.

Liam: I am happy how things are now.

Vienna: Good. Let’s have a family together, Liam

Liam: You know, I think I’d like that. I really should have taken the time to go outside a little more too. It really is good for you, good for the soul, I think.

Vienna: I think so too. I’m happy like this.

Liam: I am too.

Vienna: Are you still waking up sometimes and wetting the bed?

Liam: Yes. Life sure is strange, Vienna.

Vienna: I know.

[Exeunt.] 

The Poisoned Rat

In the old farm at this time of year, a quiet hung in the rooms with rotting wood that sunk into the floors each time you stepped on them as if the house were mounted on a sponge. With each step, the rooms would start whispering to each other, “Who’s there?” And “What was that in the dining room? I heard a fork drop.” But no answer would come, and they would be forced to resort to chattering nervously amongst themselves, until once again a calm had settled into the silence where years had rotted away any sense of what ought to take place in the event of some terrifying incident anyway, or even what one might look like. All that came through this disorienting fog of nervousness was a single visceral notion, “This is foreign”, and it was enough to twist at the ankles of a fleeing victim, or grope and clutch at the stomach of someone who thought they were alive, only to be pulled down to the bottom of the sea in a single gurgle, and then, once again, the quiet would fill up all the rooms. In a distant room there was a nervous giggle, but it soon gave way. The frost-filled winds outside the house were slowly clawing away at the siding and paint that once marked the plot in a deep, bright yellow, now dulled and flecked from being at the mercy of nature’s tremendous will, which was something currently like a soft breath blowing into a teapot, only the house was at the bottom of it, the tea nearly completely evaporated.  Of course, from this far down, even the lightest blowing would sound like a snowstorm is coming. The paint will continue to peel, voices all murmuring that something dreadful is going to happen just beyond some corner or doorway they could not see past. If only the whole house were transparent! Of course, if there were no house at all there would be even fewer problems, and fewer still with no one to live in it, but houses were built to have problems, and to have loads of superstitions attached to them besides.

“2, 3, 4” A voice would say, and time would pass, and only the snow piling up would clock the hours. “76, 77, 78…” Continued the voice in a low whisper. The boots by the door, knocked over as they were, were left with a glossy finish where snow had been to let the counter know that time was passing. Everything, the snow rising and melting like a slow tide, the paint slowly coming off in chips to be later eaten by squirrels and hares, the leaking roof, the dripping faucet, all were telling the man decidedly not counting seconds, what the time was. Only there was no translation, it was all spelled out in water; a persistent voice speaking a foreign language, as if there was something urgent, and Oh! If only the letters could be read by you! Some disaster might be avoided.

All around the house, books were pulled out, document which smelled like bread and wet leaves, pots, pans, suits, tools, ornate silverware, keepsakes that were not valuable and only ever looked at to decide whether or not they should be thrown out. All were weighed, counted, bitten, held up to the light to examine their exact transparency and density. Then, when the whole house could be fit into a ledger, the man turned inward to it to say his last goodbye and said something along the lines of “Might as well,” as if it were neither the beginning nor the ending to a sentence, and no one could be sure either if even this was exactly what he said; there is a great deal of uncertainty surrounding events which seem inconsequential at the time they are taking place.

Do you know what fear and boredom look like when they come together? It is difficult to describe and very possible that you would not think of it as anything special if you saw it in the face of a stranger, maybe because it is so rarely seen that we are not accustomed to reacting to it. You can imagine it though pretty easily as the sound you would make if you knew no one could hear you.
The snow was thick enough that the man’s footsteps through it might have been made through an open field, a road, a frozen pond, or the beginning of some construction site. It was impossible to tell without some form of context, and this, too, was disappearing in the blowing winds. The man’s car stood open and gradually began disappearing, as a distant memory. The pines called out to him, though they couldn’t seem to get their heads on straight about what his name was, so instead howled aimlessly. They tried casting off their own snow-filled films toward him to gain his attention, but nothing seemed to work. The man looked up at the sky, it was the same as the earth. He was trying to remember exactly where he had come from, but couldn’t help but think instead of the canned peaches he ate that morning, and the incredible darkness inside that house. This darkness, the exact nature of it, was playing on through the corners of his mind, obsessively, automatically. He wanted to know the exact quality of the change in light between the nameless and unfurnished room which separated the kitchen from the stairwell, and which had no windows; and the kitchen, which had all the brightness of Winter cascading inside so that you could see the shadow of the wind passing that told you you were whirring through space at unimaginable speeds. The man knelt down in the snow to watch. The crunch of it beneath his knee woke him for a moment, and he started to wonder where he was. Like before, but now, in sleep, the branches that held these thoughts together to let you know the precise distance between them and memories and pure nonsense were being torn apart, one by one, quietly but without mercy.
When he awoke, he was dead.

As he stood and brushed the snow still clinging to his shaking knees, his mind sought out only the most recent memories. The shadows of the windows were mixed with the smell of jams, footsteps into the white nothingness trailed off into the melody of some forgotten song. Even the car, left with it’s door open to the elements, was disappearing actually into the blankness of the distant past. In this distance, with nothing else to do, the trees blew off their dust like sand through the fingers of some clenched fist. He could see them, only barely, spotting the landscape in little pencil scratches, and the man started walking toward them. A mile, five or ten, they passed without so much as a thought, and he was soon groping along the edge of the trees for a way in. The forest was dark inside, and most of the snow seemed to have dried up when it touched the earth or else was trapped in the spider web network of branches that hung overhead and let the light poke through only here and there in short intervals. The melted snow wound and crisscrossed through the bed of the forest under thin sheets of transparent ice, and the man followed them, listening now in complete exhaustion only to the sharp sounds of his own breath and heartbeat cutting through the frost filled air, to the foot of a small wooden house with sticks and stones arranged as tools and tables all around the outside, scattered, it seemed, by some hair brained method for organization, and only lightly touched by the leaves and snow making patchworks on the earth below.

With a painful creak, the door opened up a sliver to show the house's small insides. With shaking hands and a racing heart, the man peered inside, not knowing what to expect but only imagining himself, his eyes widening open under the warped glass that plated the woven streams outside. How he might be carried along, trapped like this, and who knows what type of person might hole themselves up in such a place, surrounded only by wolves and darkness? Still, the temptation was too great for an empty house this far out in the wilderness, how all the food might be spoilt, but he could thumb through the cupboards and dig his greedy fingers eagerly through marmalades and pickled eggs, and Oh! The treasures that might be found and how they would be appreciated by someone whose stomach was carved out like a pumpkin, feeling just as bloated, with the sounds of shifting tectonic plates coming from somewhere deep within. He listened closely. Slowly, from inside, he heard the sounds of distant singing. The radio was on.

"Dog! Dog!" The old man's grizzled voice rang out from one of the inner rooms of the house, now emerging into the hallway to be heard more clearly, "Master Keats! Come let me rub my face against your warm Winter pelt." And here, the dog was lifted up to it's hind legs, staggering in short, jittery steps as he tried to support his muscular hot dog shaped body by short little stick legs. He looked up eagerly into the old man's eyes as they waltzed around the living area. This was obviously not the first time the dog had had to become accustomed to this kind of exercise. "If you're going to dance with me, the least you could do is wear a wig." The old man added finally after several intimate moments, and reached to a nearby counter for an open box of cereal, reaching inside and breaking apart several long pieces of wheat from inside before sprinkling them lightly over the dog's head, who looked around eagerly and confused at the falling strands of hair, barking into the quiet house and nearly falling over in his excitement before finally regaining his composure. He looked up eagerly into his Master's eyes, searching them only for some kind of approval, but the master only looked down woefully and solemnly as he stepped slowly into the first movement of what seemed like a more calculated and dignified dance. Despite this solemnity though, and the scrutinizing gaze he shot downwards towards the beast, it was the old man himself who eventually knocked his hips into a nearby shelf and knocked over a small container of washers and bolts while the clumsy dog, seeing his opportunity to break free of his silent prison, barked and ran off into a nearby room. "Shit! Are you gonna close that door, or do you want the whole world looking in to see what a mess it is in here?" The old man very slowly and painstakingly brought himself down far enough that he could reach the floor, supporting himself on furniture of decreasing heights as time went on in some very elaborate display as he picked up each small piece of metal, one by one, and put them back into the plastic bin.

____________________________________________________________________________


“Shh! Shh! Where’s your sister?”
“I don’t know. Why do you keep asking me?”
“Shush. Stop biting your lip when you talk and don’t give me an attitude whenever I ask you a question.”
“Come on! Hurry!”
The two rats shuffled eagerly across the countertop, touching their noses to the surface with each step and taking extra care not to let the light from the window glisten on their silver coats, as it was still dark inside.
“You were with her last night. I heard you two laughing in the cupboards.”
“I went to bed when she was still looking for food. I thought she came to bed too, but maybe she got lost.”
The old man had left to go search for the rabbits caught in his snares, but they knew that even though the first light had only just poked its nose shyly indoors, he would be back before it glowed with any confidence. One of the rats was chewing on the wall beside the sink while the other tested a broken stick nearby that was leaning against the edge of the counter. We should call these mice something to avoid confusions though, even though they do not know each other by names, don’t you think? Just for our convenience, in other words. Henrietta called out to Elizabeth, who had only just breached the surface of the drywall anyway, and was staring at her while she prodded and pushed the stick, which did not budge. The two communed at the edge of the counter with their noses raised high in the air so that they could maintain eye contact, before Henrietta broke off and made a running start down the stick. Elizabeth soon followed, but after the first step, the whole block of wood started shifting forward at the bottom. It was sliding out from under them! By the time it broke contact with the counter, the two had instinctively jumped. Elizabeth found herself quite high up and free falling, but given to her small frame and well-timed roll, she was able to escape the fall with nothing injured but her nerves.

“It’s all about roads, huh?” Came a voice from the darkness.
The two merely stood still with quickly beating hearts.
“What I mean is, you sacrificed the hole for a quick way down, when the hole could have been a quick and safe way to always go up there. But I guess if your stomach is empty it doesn’t really matter.” Another rat had appeared. This one was quite scrawny and scrappy, with a small bald spot on its side from where it had recently cut itself (probably from falling into the sink).
“You were watching us?” Elizabeth had dropped her guard slightly and was sniffing behind her mother for her next meal.
“I saw you. That’s not the same as watching, exactly.”
“How are they different?”
“Well, one sounds worse, for one thing.”
Henrietta was distracted somewhat and staring off into the distance for what she thought were the sounds of footsteps, but soon found herself and chimed in.
“Have you seen someone who smells like us? Another rat?
She was out last night but we can’t seem to find her.”
“Another rat?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there are a lot of us around here, you know.”
“I know… Can you help us or not? What do you want, food? Do you know anything?”
“No, Ms. I would never accept food for such a thing. If I knew where your person was, I’d tell you, I promise.”
“Okay, let’s go.” The two rats started shuffling away, but not before Henrietta sent an absent-minded “Thank you” behind her.
“Well if we’re going to look for her, we have to hurry. No more hobbling about, we can think about food tonight. Besides, I know you ate like a pig when you got out last night.”
“I did not. And she’ll be fine, she’s probably waiting at home for us now, stewing because we left without her.”
“Don’t take this lightly when I say it’s serious.”

The words seemed to be cut short. Henrietta stared at Elizabeth with an obsessive and nameless thought flickering in her eyes and jumbling the words in her throat. Deep in her subconscious, far away from her reach, the words would have formed, “Remember what happened to your father.” But they did not and could not any more. The memories had all dissolved, and all that remained was the way she started thinking of the world at the time when they were burning brightly through her, so that when she thought of the world in these ways, she thought of him completely and not at all. The world was changing before her eyes, and these thoughts would always be encrypted, indecipherable in their prison, but somehow burned through her brightly enough in that moment that they silently reached out and screwed Elizabeth’s mouth up into a brief but painful grimace before the confused images could even be transplanted to her own mind. They travelled the rest of the way in a thick, syrupy silence, until they were caught up with again by the talkative rat.
“You know,” said the voice from nowhere again.
“Now that I think of it, there was something else.”
Despite their great reluctance, each of them, to wade back to the surface just to see what was causing such ripples, the bait was too tempting to ignore.
“Well don’t just stop there. You have us where you want us, don’t you? You can consider me in suspense already.”
“It’s not that. It’s probably nothing and I don’t want to scare you, but I thought I should mention it.”
“Well mention it then.”
“Okay. I saw something.” Here, the third rat slithered in in front of them, poised as if to share a secret, though they were the only ones around.
“Another rat, he found a hole. This rat, he looks like he has been here a long time. I don’t know for sure, as I have only been born relatively recently, but he looks comfortable, like the whole house is his. Comfortable and menacing.”
Henrietta and Elizabeth here shot each other a knowing glance (but of course quickly broke away so that Elizabeth could start gnawing at her armpit while Henrietta waved her nose high in the air to start sniffing out changes in the room around her).
“Anyway,” he went on, “This hole appeared out of nowhere, or this is what the old rat’s sudden fascination told me, I saw this using my gut when I looked at him, and I had never seen it before either. Something must have been tempting inside though. He went in to have a look, and the hole… I don’t know how to describe this next part exactly, but the hole rose straight into the air! And after this, it disappeared altogether. I did not want to get too close, but I could hear this old rat still inside. He did not get far. After that, I could see the whole black tunnel he was in move up and down, like he was trapped in a bowl balanced on a carrot.”
“Are you sure that dumb old rat didn’t just get eaten by a bird?” Offered Elizabeth
“No no no, it was nothing like this-“
“Why are you bothering us? Did you just get bored looking for breakfast? Why have you spun such a long and elaborate tale?” Asked Henrietta, in a great fatigue.
“It’s true! I can show you… There’s something bad happening in this house. I can feel it.”
“Okay, Mr. Wizard-Psychic, where’s the magic hole then? And how are you going to show us something that’s disappeared?”
“Follow me…”

The three of them, each in turn, pressed their bodies low towards the floorboards and squeezed beneath a small space beneath the baseboards. In past the wood, the plaster and drywall were much more thoroughly chewed out, leaving only a thin façade (for appearances). There was no light in places like this, only cramped tunnels leading through insulation, small enough that a straw could fit through quite comfortable, but only serving as a compass point now for creatures passing in it. Every now and then, the cold arm of a copper pipe would reach out to touch them, clumsily, a broken bone emerging through the fur that they were passing through, and the path would suddenly veer off. Other times, the flesh of an exposed wire would appear before them, frayed and reaching out with long tendrils to greet passersby with the stench of death appearing also alongside it.

“Don’t touch that.” The voice up ahead would say.
“Don’t tell us what to do!” Cried Elizabeth.
“Shh. Did you make all these tunnels, Front-Rat?” Asked Henrietta.
“Yes.” Said the voice in front as the trail ahead branched off in three directions, “Most of them. I am the only one who knows my way through all of them. They are longer than they have to be so that people using these tunnels without me will get lost.” The boy-rat touted proudly, “Some trails even lead to the big fire that warms the house.”
“It’s very impressive of you.”
“It’s why I have all these scratches on me. Not because I get into fights or anything.”
“Okay.”
Soon the insulation broke through to the open air, and a thin slit of light cut through the darkness, showing a sea of pink that they were now all sitting on, while above them, pipes clung to nothing, appearing from, and leading to, nowhere, while fragments of this light bounced off of them, all in slightly different ways, illuminating the night sky. The third rat ran quickly along a few carefully chosen pipes with practiced skill while the other two did their best to follow. Elizabeth overshot one of the higher pipes and had to start over though, and other two waited in borrowed suspense as she retraced her steps.  They emerged through a small opening where the pipe that drained the washroom sink tunneled through the drywall. Here they fell to the floor and found a small, black, oblong box nestled in behind the waste bin.

Remember, remember that some things that do not ever seem to change only do so, only remain still from a moving reference point. Memories distilled to a single moment, a snapshot of the past, the still image of a face crystalized by years of renewed meditation are adorned each time with the slightly changed words to reflect the passing year. Every face becomes a self-portrait, eventually, with only rude honesty as a buffer to preserve it's true image.

“Do you remember? Ah! Hush dog—barking! Barking! There’s nothing ever here. We are always alone and you yell at nothing! To no one. What is it for?”

The dog was too excited to simply sit still for such a lecture. Even in the small barracks that barely kept the wailing elements at bay, the outdoors were like the breath of life itself to such a creature. The forest was chattering loudly as we went deeper into it. I was still trying to clean off the first rabbit we came across, but it was all coming off in clumps and patches.

“The room in the back. The room in the back of that house we never bothered to clean out. It just wasn’t worth the effort! Hear that, Lord Kelvin? Some things are just not worth the work. There is so little time in a day, so few days in an hour! Yet let’s talk and talk and talk about it, like we have all the time in the world. Can you feel it, Master?” The old man picked a branch with the leaves still attached and rattled them as he chased the dog, now weaving infinity symbols through the trees. “All the time is passing.”

I could hear something heavy nearby suddenly lift itself from the braches above us. The birds were all screaming at each other, and I held the stick I had picked up closely in my hands, as the forest seemed ready to collapse in on us, or to, at the very least, send an owl or something down to give us a start, but nothing ever came. The old man was walking up the path and every now and then reaching in blindly, his nose still waving high in the air as he prodded some nondescript bush to pull out a rabbit tangled in string.

“And you were terrified. Of everything! Sockets and pots with the handles sticking out, glass coffee tables, empty swimming pools, full swimming pools. Mostly of that car though. Do you remember it?” Here he carefully maneuvered his hand through the thicket to pull out a frightened and still-living hare, twisting its neck with practiced efficiency as the creature first screwed itself up and started peddling the air below it anxiously with its feet before falling softly into the man’s hand. “Yeah, the one in the back in that big field that opened up to the forest, the one with the train tracks that passed through it. That rusty, old, abandoned car. You were terrified that they were going to play in it and get tetanus, or find some opium or something stashed away in the glove compartment or under the seats.” Into the deep brown bag the hare would go, to lay with its companions, “No, you remember it. You were telling me about the broken stove in the house just last week. It’s the same house. Just shush and listen. You will remember.”

When the forest opened up to the main part of the valley, you could see all of the trees suddenly rushing inward, down toward the bottom, before being stopped abruptly by a large body of water, the extents of which spread out to a nearly unimaginable distance, flattening everything in its path. The great equalizer, it was quite the marvel for something that amounted to little more than a bowl of water. A black cloud hovered in from the perimeter, toward us, below us, like a great creature stalking a prey it was unaware had already escaped high above it, into the trees, to watch it safely as it passed.

“What is that?”
“Just a cloud.” The old man looked annoyed for having been interrupted.

“Well they didn’t heed your warnings anyway. All those times you would line them up and tell them, ‘You can go play out in the yard up to the trees, but if I see one of you even go near that car, you’re going to be grounded for a month.’” We stepped right down into the black cloud as it was passing, as though we were coming down to mount it, our feet covered now in ash and tar. “It wasn’t enough, obviously. You know how kids get, you tell them they can’t do something and it becomes the Taj Mahal of things to do. The Grand Prix. The Amazon jungle.  I probably wasn’t the greatest influence, so long as we’re all being honest here. Maybe I wanted them to like me a little more. Didn’t work in the end, but for a while it was a pretty good method.” The old man paused on the hill, in reflection, but also trying to recapture the breath the smoke had just stolen. “Christ! It’s like living with you all over again.” He yelled out to the forest between dry heaves before retracing his steps to pick up the thought where he had last placed it.

At the bottom of the valley, with the lake now partially eclipsed, the old man kicked around the grey dirt looking for the oars he had buried, blinded by darkness, while the distant ends of the water, where fish still swam, shimmered brilliantly without somehow illuminating any of the earth or water below the cloud. Eventually we found them, but not without some difficulty, as they were nestled in behind a small bush rather discreetly and covered in an ashen brown cloth. We both got in a small rowboat resting on the shore and rowed along the river in silence, the waves gently lifting and lowering the ship towards the distant shore. “Anyway” The man went on, “My point was that I caught them before you did, that’s all.” The lake was amazingly quiet when the man stopped speaking, and when we reached the daylight of the distant shore, we dismounted almost immediately onto a small corner shop at the end of a dirt road. The old man went inside and bought some cigarettes before quietly cursing out the shop owner, as was his custom.

When the old man returned to the boat, his boredom had returned to him, and he went on. “I found this ratty old pair of boots in the room full of garbage that the last tenants had left. They were torn up and you could smell them on the other side of a closed door. Absolutely rancid. Anyway, I knew they had figured out how long it took you to make tea or food before you went up to your room, and they would wait before sitting in this abandoned car and pretending to drive it.” The forest left behind on the other end of the valley, the distant shore, was now bursting into flames, having immolated in on itself, and the small boat swam toward it uneasily, the old man idly picking away at his cigarettes and dropping bits of them into the water as he lied back against his pack inside the boat. “So one day before the kids woke up, I put the boots in the driver’s side below the seat, with a note on top of them that read ‘Back in 15’. The look on their faces when they came screaming back inside... I think in the end they were more afraid of you when they saw they had woken you up though.”

The rats stared at the small black box that sat quietly before them with a sort of anxious amusement. What was it? Was it dangerous? Why wasn’t the rat inside saying anything? It was apparent that there was another one of them living inside, so this part of the boy-rat’s story was true. The rat inside was probably plotting something in all of his silence, he and the clever little one that had brought them there were probably in on it together. Only, well, the smell of prolonged nervousness was at least a little comforting. Elizabeth had planted herself on top of the box and was chewing away at one of the corners when Henrietta looked up, and, seeing this, leapt in place.

“Elizabeth! What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Elizabeth shook in sudden fear from being startled, but quickly resumed. “I want to see what’s inside.”
“A dangerous rat is what. Get down from there! Don’t just start opening a mystery box without even thinking about what’s in it.”

From inside, a small voice trickled into the sounds of chastisement, only a whisper at first, but soon growing in confidence. “H-hello?” A typical timid introduction for a meek little rat only looking for the right moment to lunge out and start madly chewing out their bellies. “Who is it? What do you want?” Henrietta called out half-heartedly to the black plastic cube. “Please help me… Can you help me?” And, after a moment without any response, the voice cried out quietly again, “I’m so scared. What’s going to happen to me?”

The small rat with the cut on his side spoke first, “I don’t know if I trust him. He did not seem so gentle when he first went in there.”
Henrietta was second, “Even if I thought it was okay, there’s just no time! We have to find my daughter before it gets too bright.”
Then Elizabeth, who tried to mumble something, but whose mouth was too full of plastic to form the words, simply nodded. The corner of the box soon had a fracture large enough for the big rat to poke through, now gnawing down one of the cracks in the plastic himself in a sort of panicked frenzy, before emerging outright. His eyelids were chapped and he made a darting motion towards Elizabeth, who was closest, his long teeth opening up with a mechanical precision and eagerness, before the boy-rat rushed in from the side to bit the much larger rat’s thigh. In the excitement, Henrietta and Elizabeth managed to quickly scurry up a mound of toilet paper that led back to the hole under the pipe. They made their escape, it seemed, but seemed also always to hear a shuffling in the insulation just behind them. They would call out to it, but there was never any answer. Elizabeth was quietly sobbing. Henrietta was sure after only a few minutes into the cavern passages that the scent of the three of them tunneling only ten minutes earlier was disappearing completely in front of her now, but she was also sure that there were no turns she could have even chosen poorly on the path back so far. Besides, it was too late to go back now anyway. They would just have to see where this path took them.

“Are we going to get lost here?” The words rolled over the slobber and snot of outright sobbing in the small crawlspace that was coming to an end in front of Henrietta.
“Shh.” The voice was quickly hushed.
“But mom…” The cries continued.
“Can you not see I’m busy Elizabeth?! What? What is so urgent that it can’t wait five seconds until we’re out in the hallway again?”
A brief silence.
“What? Tell me. You finally have my attention.”
“I don’t know. It’s—I don’t know.” And still the slobbering wouldn’t stop. It was audibly drizzled over each word and filled in all the silences between them.
“Well great then, Elizabeth. I’m glad we stopped to discuss this in the tunnels while we wait for whatever it is out there to come in and eat us. Are you happy we paused here to have this conversation? Maybe we can have another one while we’re relaxing here in the shade, like what we’re having for dinner, or what you feel like doing during the Summer. Hmm? What do you think?”
Still no answer, but the two started travelling backwards to retrace their footsteps as Henrietta got increasingly angry.
“Don’t just sit there in silence after I ask you a direct question. What do you want? Did you suddenly forget how to speak?”
“Nothing. Just keep going.”
“Don’t get an attitude with me Elizabeth, and don’t tell me what to do.”
“Well?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Just then, as they were following the small opening they had somehow missed the first time down, a loud squeak could be heard through the walls. It was her. The voice was so close, and the path leading to it so far, Henrietta had to fight every bone in her body just to stop herself from veering off to the side and chewing toward the sound, but she knew in the reasoning part of her mind that this was the longer way in time, even if it was shorter in distance. The two mice raced in the darkness, chasing the tail of their own scent mixed with sawdust and formaldehyde down through winding tunnels that seemed absolutely familiar in one moment only to fade into the completely alien the next. Finally they came to the chewed up wire they had passed on the way in and all hope was rekindled.

In the hall, the great dog, fifty miles tall, was bearing it’s teeth like a gated fence to a mouse that was awkwardly meandering past it as though it had not just been bitten, and there was, in fact, no real threat. ‘Arf!’ Cried the idiot-monster to the whole house, for no reason whatsoever.

“Rachel!” Henrietta lunged at the beast from behind, narrowly escaping the giant snapping jaws immediately pointed towards her and running across the thing’s spine as the creature bit wildly at its own tail, the wet sound of teeth clamping together filling the quiet of the house. She launched off and landed only a few paces in front of her daughter, who, taking a cue from the sprinting figure in front of her, took off herself until the two had made it to safety. The dog, left in a wild daze from biting circles in the air, soon caught hold of it’s senses long enough to set its sights on Elizabeth, who had been left to her own devices in the otherwise now empty room. The beast scratched its long nails against the hardwood floor several times before picking up any traction. Not a tremendous delay, but it was enough for Elizabeth to squeeze and shake herself into the slit under the baseboards, though she could feel the breath on her back on the way, and still hear it breathing long after.

“Elizabeth, stay there and don’t come out until I say. You’re safe there for now.” Came the voice from the other side of the wall.
“You left me!” Came the voice from the solitary innards.
“Sorry! I had to save Rachel. I wasn’t thinking.”

At nightfall, all three mice had made it safely back to the cupboards. Henrietta wanted to sleep, she wanted to let the waves of peace from a reunited family gently wash over her until her eyelids were too heavy to lift through any act of sheer will, but something would not let her. Some nameless something chewed at the insides of her ears and whispered sweet nothings into them. This something, she slowly discovered as the hours all stumbled into each other, came from the voice of the small, beat-up rat. She couldn’t remember the words exactly, but the gist of it was that the house was no longer safe, that something was changing. Even the man that lived there with them was beginning to act somewhat funny lately. As she thought of this, the hours passed on and eventually gave way to sleep.

The next few days passed in relative peace, and Rachel was a great help through them, as she went out into the kitchen at night while Henrietta dwelt upon an escape plan for Spring, and Elizabeth kept to her room, embarrassed about the small patches of fur she was losing. It would go like this. In the evening when all the rooms were suddenly, finally, saturated in the smoke of the burning trees outside, a small voice would nuzzle itself into persistent rat dreams.

“Elizabeth,” the voice would say, but to no response as the girl still had to wade her way to the surface.
“Elizabeth, we have to go now, okay?”
“I do not want to go. I absolutely do not care about what the consequences of going or not going are, as staying here is the goal in and of itself.”

After being pulled out of her little hole in the wall forcibly, Elizabeth and her family were soon following the trail of rats rushing to leave the house. She caught a single image through the smoke and hollering, unbelievable and unmistakable even in the light of a single flame’s flicker (now breaking through the kitchen window to come inside, a thief in the night). It was her father. There is no part of this that is possible to describe adequately in words, though one must try in situations such as these, where it is equally impossible not to describe it at all. By proxy, you might imagine it as the mountains suddenly sprouting eyes and speaking to you, or, being lost in the vastness of space, to be able to see, in close, the scale and magnitude of the storm on Jupiter. He looked frail, as though he was turning to dust inside, with sunken cheeks and a thin white coat.

We all met him while he was in a state of dazed recognition, smiling politely, though with a look of deep confusion seemingly permanently affixed to his expression, just below the surface. There was hardly any time for all of this of course, keep in mind that the whole world is crumbling around us. We raced through the forest with an immense heat at our backs. Those that could not keep up were intentionally crawled over or kicked backwards, as though the flames were some wild beasts that could be slowed down and satiated through sacrifice. Across a small stream, the forest opened up to an empty field, and in it, a small alcove that almost fit all of the rats that were ambling on top of one another just to stay within its confines. The fire never quite reached this far though, and the rats felt quite safe in their new home, some of them even took to burrowing deeper in order to expand it.

By the morning, all was calm. Water trickled down from icicles and sparkled in the light of dawn as song birds hopped along the thawing earth, careful to avoid the scurrying rats, all in a mad rush to find food. Henrietta was looking out over the great expanse when another rat rested its head across her shoulders, “We would like some grass and branches to cover up this place, can you go find some?”

She would slip out to weave carefully through patches of long grass, keeping her eye frantically chasing the wind that swept through and kept the world around her in a constant state of change. There would be no other adventures for the day though, now creeping beasts chasing them all down burrowed tunnels. When she returned, it was as an electric current had been passed through the whole colony. Through all the chatter, a sudden burst of hysterical laughter could be heard here and there, but it would often quickly dissolve into violent and panicked outbursts, which also seemed to end as abruptly as they began. Elizabeth seemed to be still gazing off into the distance waiting for Henrietta’s return.

“He left you, you know.”
Someone called out indignantly to the rat who had said it, urging her to keep quiet, but instead it had the effect of quieting the whole audience, except for a few remaining squeals, misplaced remnants of the dying commotion. All were waiting for a spectacle. “To start a family.” The rat continued, now jeered on by the crowd. The old, thinning rat looked up and smiled politely at Henrietta from his slumped sitting position when he saw that she was looking at him. “Why else would he pretend like he did and then disappear indefinitely? Think about it reasonably.” The audience was in a loud commotion by this point, rolling over each other and laughing out in drunken fits from the disconnected stories they had been telling each other in the excited silence that had only just collapsed. This scene too could only hold for so long though before giving way to something new. The rats started scurrying in every direction, except for the one with the polite smile plastered on his face, who was soon nestled tightly in the talons of a great hawk, pulled in itself by the clamour of the crowd. When it had left, when the rats started trickling back into the small alcove, they all stared up at the sky in astonishment, as if the wrath of God had suddenly come down to wash the Earth clean. There was hushed gossip among friends, but as more people came, and more knew each other, connecting the groups, one by one, this quiet lull of voices soon grew into an uproarious and deafening chatter. A single voice that could not wait to see what the new day would bring.