Second Helpings of Cyanide - Part 2

CHUCK: So we’ll move on then?

MARION: What are we waiting for!

MS. CRONOS returns to her seat.

MS. CRONOS: Alright then, after the servant part Chuck.

CHUCK: Gad Zeus! It’s a letter from the great Count

The Evil and Terrible Herbert seeks

a council with me to decide my fate,

like a mighty being gives mortals fire

MS. CRONOS: Yes! Good!

Jules plays Schubert’s 8^th Symphony, as Chuck gives the performance of a lifetime

CHUCK: What ants we mortals be! Playthings of kids,

swarming to the stray victuals they leave,

exchanging our lives for heav’nly mana

unaware of the looming world above…

MS. CRONOS: Keep it up, Chuck!

CHUCK: For what is a man but a beast micro?

What seven stages can erase his state?

What keeps a man from a loquaciousness

that slows the play of life down to a halt?

MS. CRONOS: Yes! This is wonderful! You all did it! You took this play and turned it into a work of serious beauty and respect as well as a parody!

RONALD MEO enters, a large figure in a very effeminate drag costume. Everyone stops and stares at him.

RONALD: …what? I have the next line.

MARION: You still came in at the wrong time, Ron.

MS. CRONOS: …just… just continue the play.

RONALD: Oh, my love! My one and only lover!

Has thou thus heard the news about Herbert?

It chills my bonnet just to think of him.

Oh Bob, do not go near that vile man!

CHUCK: Begone, temptress! Not but a fortnight past

And you return to grovel at my feet

After you said, “Oh Bob, it’s time that we

Catch a glimpse of supplementary folk!”

RONALD: Not so, my pumpkin, it is so not so!

I may come due to lust, but I still come!

CHUCK: Oh, my Vicky! Oh my dearest feather,

your devotion to me shall be rew’rded.

MS. CRONOS: Marilyn, stop tap-dancing! I can see you, you know!

RONALD: And now I must fly, oh my prince and lord,

But later on, I won’t leave you so bored…

RONALD winks and waves at CHUCK as he leaves.

MARION: (really chewing the scenery here)

Oh my master! Did you receive the word

From the Count of Mesopotamia?

You never sent him that gift you promised

Of your jewels, so he could use them as his

Paperweights… My lord? Do you doth hear me?

CHUCK: (almost matching MARION)

Oh woe! Oh woe oh woe oh woe is me!

For now that I forgot to do this task,

This is symbolic of my forthcomin’ doom

And the hubris of mine that must be cut!

Oh woe! For now I am damned into hell!

MS. CRONOS: Cut!

MS. CRONOS emerges from her seat.

MS. CRONOS: I’m sorry I forgot to tell you this, but we need to eliminate all swear words from the script. How about you say, “I am darned into heck?”

CHUCK: “I am darned into heck…” What am I, a pair of socks?

MS. CRONOS: Well, there are kids coming to the show, so…

MARION: Since when has the audience become more important than the actor’s art?

MS. CRONOS: Since be quiet.

CHUCK: So what do you expect us to do anyways? Say, “I am Exclamation Point-Dollar Sign- Asterik- @ signed into Hades?”

MS. CRONOS: Well, just replace it with anything else. I’m sorry I didn’t proofread this when Slyvester put it into my lap, but you’ll survive. (as she returns to her seat) Oh, and watch out for the upcoming sonnet. There are a lot of them in there.

MS. CRONOS returns to her seat.

MARION: What if, good sir, you take the jewels from the

Evil and Terrible Herbert ov’r there?

CHUCK: I’d love to rob the… dust bowl! , I agree,

But first we need a plan both smart and fair.

MARION: His place is guarded through the days and nights,

 As if the… bad nerd can never go sleep.

CHUCK: Oh how nice it’d be if one guard just might

Have been my… featherstitch! I could force him to creep

Inside the palace. Oh… liberty chit! I just know

A way in now… If I go in disguised

As one of his men, I’m able to go

Inside and take the stuff… make him surprised!

It’s my one chance… I hope I’m not outlucked…

MARION: You better hope so, sir, or you are… a duck!

CHUCK: (breaking character) What did you call me! 

MARION: Why do you mind?

CHUCK: OH NO! Anseriformes Anhimidae and I do not mix! How’d you like it if I called you possum or a Bandersnatch, huh?

MARION: (upstaging him) So?

MS. CRONOS: CUT! I don’t think any of that was in the script…

CHUCK: I will not stand for such maltreatment, Ms. Cronos!

MS. CRONOS: You’re not a duck, Charles, all right?

MARION: Would you prefer that I use the word I replaced?

MS. CRONOS: NO! …Erm, next scene, I think.

Lights black out. “Sing, Sing, Sing,” by Benny Goodman, begins playing.

MS. CRONOS: JULES! We’re saving that for the fight scene!

JULES: (from offstage) Got it!

The song stops and is replaced by “One-Winged Angel” by Nobuo Uematsu. Many actors move around the furniture for the next scene.

After half a minute, the lights go back on. Several chairs surrounds a small table with a huge, majestic tablecloth. SLYVESTER LOCKED enters.

SLYVESTER: (doing an excellent, but still over-the-top, performance)

Soon my dastardly plan shall be complete

And I shall rule the world! Of course, I’ll need

Those jewels that will power my death-ray. Wait!

I hear a noise… and no man can be here!

Enter quickly, my beloved servant… what’s up?

CHUCK enters in a servant costume that’s very bad and on backwards, a costume obviously put on at the last second.

CHUCK: What is wrong with this cheaply costly clothing anyways! Ms. Cronos, who purchased this costume for me? I want to thank them as soon as I get within swinging distance!

MS. CRONOS: Well, I think it might…

SLYVESTER: Do you dare complain about your un’form?

He does a stage slap to CHUCK, who's very confused and doesn’t react to it.

SLYVESTER: It is I who house you and give you bread

And you respond with verbal treachery?

Oh how it pains to see loyals astrayed!

MS. CRONOS: CUT!

MS. CRONOS emerges from her seat.

SLYVESTER: For the umpteenth time you’ve said that, strange girl,

I scarcely know what you mean by that word.

MS. CRONOS: Don’t worry about me, dear, you’re doing a great job. Chuck, I wish you’d stop breaking character like that…

CHUCK: Like Sly, right? Oh sure, Sly doing a great job, except he hasn’t stopped doing that job for weeks!

MS. CRONOS: I know, dear. That’s why he’s so good at it.

CHUCK: But… I… aggghhh!

MS. CRONOS: Look, dear, you’re a great actor. You really are. There’s no reason to get upset when you’re so loved. But…

CHUCK: AHA! BUT! But I don’t stand up to an escaped Arkham Asylum inmate! But I wouldn’t know a character if one cut off my head and used it as a stylish hat! But all you said means nothing!

CHUCK exits SR, shouting insults about whatever at whomever as he goes.

MS. CRONOS: Great. Now we need someone in his place…

JULES: (offstage) You called me, Ms. Cronos?

MS. CRONOS: Mr. Clifton, you’re Bob’s understudy, right?

JULES: (offstage) Right! I’ll be right over there!

JULES runs onto SL from SR.

JULES: Oh, and don’t worry, I have Wilhelmina’s lines totally memorized, so there’s nothing to worry about.

MS. CRONOS: I thought you’re playing Bob.

JULES: I know that! Where do I start?

MS. CRONOS: Your entrance, please.

With much energy, JULES walks backwards off of stage left and then walks back on.

JULES: It is I, oh my lord, as servant Bob.

SLYVESTER: BOB? The dreaded BOB?! Do not use that name

Unless you want to suffer endless wrath

At the hands of your superior lord!

Oh how thou hast aggrieved and done me ill

For the mugging ornaments thou has made!

Within brink of vivacity I’ll bring

My blight of bizarre chastisement! Ha!

JULES: (genuinely confused) Wait, what?

SLYVESTER: You hear! My command is law here,

So change your name, and thus bring me good cheer!

JULES: Oh, ummm, Line!

MS. CRONOS: You’re supposed to have them memorized, remember?

SLYVESTER: Go, my servant Line, and guard my jewels,

In order to keep them from my foe Bob.

SLYVESTER exits SR

JULES: How am I doing?

MS. CRONOS: Well enough.

JULES: Sorry, Ms. Cronos, can I talk freely now?

MS. CRONOS: (sighs) About what, dear?

JULES: You’ve got to do something about Locked.

MS. CRONOS: Slyvester?

JULES: That’s him. He’s been acting like complete villain…

MS. CRONOS: I know, and that’s what makes his performance so good.

JULES: … acting like a villain all the time. I mean, it’s exciting when he says to his teachers, “I do algebra homework for NO MAN!” but it’s really getting out of hand. He tried to tie my girlfriend to the railroad tracks last week!

MS. CRONOS: Well, if it works for the play, I don’t think it should do too much damage to…

SLYVESTER: (offstage) YOU WILL ALL PERISH IN FLAMES! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

MS. CRONOS: I’ll talk with him.

JULES: Good.

MS. CRONOS: Let’s just keep going.

JULES: This weary sailor drives his ship to rock…

MARION CUTIO enters as JULES CLIFTON continues his monologue silently.

MARION: Ms. Cronos, can I speak for a minute?

MS. CRONOS: No.

MARION: Thank you! Anyway, I noticed that Slyvester lets a new guard in the same room as his most prized possession.

MS. CRONOS: So?

MARION: So, I figured that if we’re going to establish him as careless and destructive, we need to change a few lines of dialogue. Or, we could opt out of the entire decision and establish that Bob will replace somebody, and that Slyvester is really short-staffed.

MS. CRONOS: I think you’re overthinking this farce, dear.

MARION: One can never overthink art… even if said art uses drag.

MS. CRONOS: Let me get this straight. You want me to change the entire direction of the plot the night before the show opens.

MARION: Yeah. It’s for the best. We’re putting on a PLAY… what do actors matter?

MS. CRONOS: Shouldn’t we consult with the playwright first?

MARION: He’s busy doing algebra homework for no man. What does he care?

MS. CRONOS: He’s… well, he was… look, Marion, do you remember who the director of this play is?

MARION: Yes. Now if Sly portrays a different continence in Scene 2, we could theoretically…

RONALD MEO enters

RONALD: Chuck here?

MARION: No, stormed off again. Why?

RONALD: I thought so. Be back in a minute! (he begins to walk offstage)

MS. CRONOS: Don’t bother, Ron. He’s not in the mood to talk to anyone.

MARION: (to MS. CRONOS) Yes, because you’re so good at understanding character motivation.

MS. CRONOS: How’s this for character motivation… get off my stage or I’ll remove a pound of thy humanities grade.

JULES: But what ho! I sense the presence of a guard

Who works for Herbert and does not know me.

SLYVESTER crosses from SR to SL, and the two EXTRAS follow him as guards.

SLYVESTER: My loyal guard, I thought I saw something

untrustworthy in this man named as Line.

Have you ever meet him before this day?

… My guards? Doth mine owed eyes deceive myself?

MARION: Ummm, where’s Duncan?

JULES: Busy again.

MS. CRONOS: WHAT?!? Err, pardon?

RONALD: How do you even know these things?

JULES: It just happens.

SLYVESTER: My slave? My slave? … I shall dock your pay hence!

JULES: Don’t worry, I…

MARION: I’ll do it!

Everyone’s surprised that MARION has volunteered. She assumes the position of a hunched-back servant and begins her lines in her normal voice.

MARION: It is so true that I do not know him,

                  But another grave matter comes to light.

                  Since why must you be one running the shots?

                  With all the work I’ve done, the tears I’ve cried,

                  The walk-on roles that I had to endure,

                  this role ill-fits me. No matter, it is

                  the fate of all who have Apollo’s gifts

                  to be given the role of the sidekick.

MS. CRONOS: Ummm, Mr. Cutio? None of that was in the script.

MARION: (smiling) I know.

She walks with confidence offstage.

Three Poetic Realizations About Relationships

The poems all have a theme this time.


You Came

You came yesterday,
so you will not come today.   
But this now-familiar silence
is strangely peaceful.
In solitary muteness
I discern incomprehensible images.
This time, being far from you
makes me able to see you.

You came here to me
from out of that tangled mess,
not searching for new questions
or wanting to hear more answers
that were really just orders.
You were many years younger than me
and I was a stranger.
But everything outside us didn’t matter.

You came back now and then
like a dog out of the rain,   
wanting my comfort but not my opinion.
I always gave you what you wanted.
Gradually, your youth faded
and you began to speak like an old man.
You stood by hoping I would do for you
what you never tried doing for yourself.

You will come again tomorrow,
but you won’t see or hear me.
Night and day have changed
and I am more than your woman now.
Trying to explain this to you may be
like writing a letter to an illiterate.
But when you stand there in the hall
and hear the silence behind my door,
I hope you will get the picture.

The Magician’s Hand

Love is a magic show.
You overlook the sleights of hand
because you don’t want to see them.
You want to believe the impossible is real
and live forever in that moment of amazement.

But when the magician’s hand comes back to strike you,
you are suddenly shown what is real.
The magician only wanted to see the look on your face
and take pride in knowing you believed in the illusion.
It is the magician who decides when to stop the show;
you can only take what you get before the curtain falls.

Please Be Kind

If you can,
please be kind.
That means you can see
I meant nothing by

what I did.  I haven’t changed;
I’m still a genius fool.
What you needed wasn’t there
because I was cruel.

I can’t see
how to go on,
but I recall exactly
what was not done.

I gave you nothing
of any real value,
but now that I
can see that too,

please be kind.

Copyright (C) 2012 by Eric Landuyt

Dedication Poem

Yeah yeah, we probably aren't supposed to do this, but whatever.

To: Dennis.

You'll Never Know


I can feel the sun when I step out of the shadows
And I can feel the wind as it blows.
The trees and flowers all around me
It's beautiful and yet you'll never know.
You'll never know the beauty of the earth.
You'll never know laughter and mirth.
You'll never know what it's really like to live.
Cause you had to go and do what you did.
Maybe your dreams were broken.
Maybe your fears unspoken.
Maybe your heart was unopened.
Maybe your love was barren
You'll never know what love really feels like.
You'll never know when your life feels right.
You'll never know what it's like to feel the light.

Second Helpings of Cyanide - Part 1

In the interest of catching up on submissions, here's a play long in the making that I hope to get produced soon... a comedy! I hope you all enjoy. There are acts instead of scenes, so I should divide this up arbitrarily. If you guys could comment on what jokes are funny and which ones fall flat, that would be great.

Second Helpings of Cyanide

By

 Nick Edinger

ACT ONE

On stage, a spotlight appears on JULES CLIFFTON, SL, a sixteen-year-old with a brightly colored jacket, uncontrollable hair, and the look of an energetic man on his face. He is the only person on stage and the second object visible: The first is a sign that says, “CYANIDE: The ‘Lost’ William Shakespeare Play.”

JULES: (rushing, but still with an intense amount of energy)

A land begot with confusion appears

To the blind man who rules this kingdom fair,

And woe is he! For if he had but ears

To know the truth, he’d Sound Cue 20 there.

VOICE FROM THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE AUDIENCE: CUT!

MS. DIANA CRONOS emerges from the seat in the second row closest to the aisle, revealing herself to be the voice. A middle-aged woman with a calm countenance, she walks over to JULES.

JULES: Sorry I mixed up my lines a bit. Not like Shakespeare’s around to complain, right? (seeing how serious she is) Don’t worry, I’ll get it down before the curtain rises!

MS. CRONOS: (calmly) We’re short on time, Jules… do it again and get it right.

MS. CRONOS resumes her seat in the audience.

JULES: (without missing a beat) A land begot with cinnamon appears…

MS. CRONOS: CUT! Start it again.

JULES: A land forgot by Cameron…

MS. CRONOS: Redo!

JULES: A land… a-landed… by a land…

MS. CRONOS: Again!

JULES: A land if by land and two if by sea…

MS. CRONOS gets up, walks towards JULES

MS. CRONOS: Jules, if you can’t keep your lines straight…

JULES: I remember all of my other lines!

MS. CRONOS: … who else are you playing?

JULES: Servant #2, Understudy for Bob and Wilhelmina, Sound Manager, Lighting Manager, Crew Manager, Crew Member, and that one guy who cleans up the ticket stubs after the show.

MS. CRONOS: And… wait, how did you end up with all of that?

JULES: I was asked. I can do more, though, if need be.

MS. CRONOS: (sighs) Well… well, just keep trying and get the lines right, will you?

JULES: Sure. I’m doing well for all I have on my plate, right?

MS. CRONOS: Perfect. Now do it all over.

She returns to her seat

JULES:  A land begot with… confusion! appears

To the blind man who rules this kingdom fair,

And woe is he! For if he had but ears

To know the truth, it’d strip his logic bare!

For in the conflict of good and evil,

Who knows the difference… the difference… what’s the difference…

MS. CRONOS: Without!

JULES: The difference without their signs!

None of you can stop this here upheaval,

For now you must watch as the stars align.

Pardon me if my French doth offends thee…

MS. CRONOS: Pardon me if my rhyme!

JULES: …pardon me if my rhyme does offend thee

As the…the…

MS. CRONOS: Starts with a ‘p’…

JULES: (rapidly and wildly guessing) Pilaf, Pilaster, Pilate, Pilates, Pilatus, pilchard, Pilcomayo, pile, pile driver, pleated…

MS. CRONOS: Pills?

JULES: I don’t take them, but thanks… wait! I remember it now! ‘Pills!’

As the pills to fix one’s blight must so do!

But remember, these shadows are like… like…

MS. CRONOS: ME!

JULES: These shadows are like me!

Their existence is possible by you.

So join me! Watch them pursue moonlight daises

 And then we’ll laugh, knowing that they’re… they’re…

MS. CRONOS: Do you remember anything?

JULES: And then we’ll laugh, knowing that we don’t remember anything!

MS. CRONOS: The word is CRAZY! (pause, as she catches her breath) Sorry, I just need to keep a bit of order around here. Why don’t you go call in everyone else?

JULES: Sure thing! (Turns to SR) HEY! SCENE ONE IS UP!

MS. CRONOS: Jules Clifton!

JULES: (from offstage) I knew that!

He sprints off. The stage lights up fully as JULES exits. The actual stage is mostly bare save a fake window hanging on the wall and a bench. Two actors, CHUCK ROLFE and MARION CUTIO, walk across SR to arrive at SL.

CHUCK: Oh, the humanity! For thus I have

Been left by my former lover at once.

MARION: (upstaging him, clearly doing a better job)

Fret not, my good master; for I shall do

Joy for you when you become as down as this.

MS. CRONOS: CUT! Chuck, is something wrong today? You were doing a great job yesterday.

CHUCK: So what you REALLY mean is that I’m doing terrible today!

MS. CRONOS: Not terribly, but you’re forgetting to emote.

CHUCK: Are you kidding!? I ALWAYS emote! I’m emoting right NOW!

MS. CRONOS: Then do it onstage, then. Take the line over. Jules, could you come over here for a second?

She returns to her seat as Jules slides onstage. CHUCK takes a quick glance to offstage SL. He then continues the line

CHUCK: (still angry) Oh the HUMANITY! For thus I have

Been LEFT by my FORMER Lover… AT ONCE!

MS. CRONOS: Cut, cut, cut…

JULES: You called?

MS. CRONOS emerges from her seat.

MS. CRONOS: Charles, dear, I know you’re trying, but… well, you have the wrong emotion.

CHUCK: What’s wrong with my emotion? It’s as good as any other emotion, right? My upset’s just a bit character that the director won’t shut the hell up!

JULES: You… called?

MS. CRONOS: (to CHUCK, losing patience) You’re supposed to be sad at this point.

MARION: When I watch this, I’m already very sad.

CHUCK: Why should I be sad, who WANTS to be sad? That’s like asking a piece of paper if it WANTS to be folded into awkward shapes and thrown at an ugly kid across the room!

JULES: Called… did you?

MS. CRONOS: (exasperated) The character doesn’t want to be sad, but just, well, feels sad.  Really take in the emotions you would feel; the hopelessness, the depression, and the heartaches. Then, act like it.

She begins to walk back to her seat.

CHUCK: But how do I do that?

MS. CRONOS: I don’t know… just do it! Start the line over.

She returns to her seat.

JULES: (very loudly) AHEM!

Ms. Cronos jumps a bit, then turns to face him.

JULES: Sorry, something in my throat. Chronic condition. Happens when I’m ignored. Anyways, you called?

MS. CRONOS: Jules, I want you to help in an experiment. Can you…

JULES: Yes!

MS. CRONOS: Good. Take over Chuck’s role for a bit. Show him how it’s done so he can see an example as to how to be sad. And… you should probably use a script too.

CHUCK: (flustered, mixing up words) You know what? Fine! You want me to read my rights and get them lined, so here they are!

Oh the humanity! For thus I have

Been left by my former lover at once

MARION: (still doing a far better job than him, stepping in front of JULES to the side to take the stage.)

Fret not, my good master; for I shall do

Joy for you when you become as down as this.

MS. CRONOS: He’s stealing your scene, Chuck!

CHUCK: (really trying to upstage MARION, also pushing JULES out of his way.)

Oh, Aphrodite, how hath I ‘fended

Thee so, for you to steal her away?

MARION: (doing the same to Chuck, once again shoving JULES out of her path)

The will of the gods are too far for us

To dare comprehend what they mean to say.

CHUCK: (stepping in front of MARION, pushing JULES offstage to do so. His fall is accompanied with the sound of a crash and breaking glass)

Is that so? Then I’ll go ask them myself…

Oh Zeus, great and mighty! Oh Poseidon,

the not-as-mighty, but still pretty cool,

and Hades, the jerk of the Underworld,

(but still not to be messed with on no clock)

I pray thee for a worthy foe to come

So that I may fight him and win, so thus

My love shall see this deed and want me back.

If you are truly… (distracted by Marilyn) if you truly…

Out damned mime! Out I say!

CHUCK has turned around to see that MARION has begun to mime while he was speaking. MS. CRONOS emerges from her seat.

MS. CRONOS: CUT! Mr. Cutio, WHY are you doing this now?

MARION: (serious) Well, Cronos, here’s the deal. I’m a senior, this is the last play of the year, and you cast me as a sidekick. You think not getting a lead role is going to get in my way?

CHUCK: What are you, some prima-sidekicking-donna?

MARION: Unlike you, at least I’m a prima-sidekicking-donna that can act.

MS. CRONOS: Quiet! Ok… Ms. Cutio, stop miming.

MARION CUTIO does so, but begins to take out a skull and begin a soliloquy as MS. CRONOS turns her back and begins walking to her seat.

MS. CRONOS: I saw that!

MARION throws away the skull.

 MS. CRONOS: From the beginning of the soliloquy, Chuck, and with more passion.

CHUCK: Is that so? Then I’ll go ask them myself…

Oh Zeus, great and mighty! Oh Poseidon…

MS. CRONOS: Jules, are you forgetting something?

JULES CLIFTON runs back onstage, and goes to the doorway between stage left and stage right.

JULES: A message, good sir, from the dreaded Count…

MS. CRONOS: No! The spotlight, remember?

JULES: I knew that!

He runs offstage SR, and a lone spotlight appears on CHUCK. JULES runs back on stage until he arrives at SL.

CHUCK: My love shall see this deed and want me back.

If you are truly great and powerful too,

you will take this prayer…

JULES: A message, good sir, from…

MS. CRONOS: That line comes later!

CHUCK: Geez, man, take a remember-your-lines-before-we-all-kill-you pill!

JULES: Sorry!

JULES runs out SR. During this time, MARION has made her way in front of CHUCK

MARION: If you truly are great and powerful too,

you will take this prayer, and see me through!

But wait! Sir, there appears to be someone

At yonder door… a bench for his worn feet!

JULES returns as MARION grabs a bench on the stage.

JULES: A land begot with confusion appears

To the blind man who rules this kingdom fair,

And woe is he! For if he had but ears

To know the truth, it’d strip his logic bare!

For in the conflict of good and evil,

Who knows the difference without their signs?

During this time, MS. CRONOS walks up onto SL with a rolled-up newspaper in hand. She puts her hands on JULES’S shoulders.

MS. CRONOS: Jules, I can’t believe it! You finally got the sonnet down 30 lines after you needed to say it! Wonderful! I’m so happy that I could just strangle you!

JULES: Ummm…well… well, of course, I… THINK I HAVE A SOUND CUE TO TAKE CARE OF! Gotta go!

JULES runs offstage.

Two Poems

Writing
My thoughts are like rushing water.
Rare and dangerous fish traverse
As do the simple and small.
My pen plucked a good one
And forget the rest as it's
Black ink spills and traps
Artistic expression.
Slices you open, takes
The inspiration it wants.
All the wrong parts captured.

Orderly
You're so stiff.
Like someone's dipped you in starch
And let you fade and bleach
Pressed you in.
Now you look the same
As the rest.

Two New Poems

Vision of Hell #1

You are trapped

in a large, empty room.
The floor is stone;

rough, hard, and cold.

The walls are all mirrors,

no matter where you look,

you always see yourself.

The ceiling is a screen

on which you can see

images of people you loved

being abused, tortured, and abandoned

by you.

Your failures, your cruelties,

lies you told and truths you omitted;

all the damage you ever did

is shown to you

over and over and over and over.

If you look away from the screen,

you still see your terrible memories

reflected in all the mirrors.

No matter where you look,

You always see yourself.

The Letter in the Bathtub

Dip your handwritten letter

into the water of the bathtub.

Feel the paper saturate and

watch the ink begin to run.

The words you wrote

and the feelings they carried

are slowly disappearing.

Your record of this time and place

is being erased.

You hold the letter under the water

because you don’t want to remember.

Copyright (C) 2012 by Eric Landuyt

Our Lady of Good Help

            5 on a summer’s morning is too early. I breakfast, shower, and dress in sequence for the first time in a while. There’s a map on the tablecloth for us. I found missed calls from Papa, my grandpa: he wanted to know if I need anything for the trip and if one could call someone through a computer.

            The map says we’re going to the Chapel of Our Lady of Good Help. Huh. So that’s where.

            My mom’s down at around 6 for work. She says it’s nice of me to go with them to the shrine. I say no problem, since I’m not sure of what else to say.

            At 6:10, she says, “They’re still not here?”

            “Surprised?”

            She laughs, “I guess I shouldn’t be.”

            Papa takes me by surprise by entering through the back door at 6:48. Mums, who refuses to let us call her grandma, sits in the bright red car, hands by tired head. Her long, curly black hair surrounds her head like the heavy black clothing surrounds her. Sunglasses fit snugly on her tight, frail, devoted face. She’s a muffled kind of glad to see me home from college, as she loves to talk and learns all she can when she can. She’s not happy to be going. Neither one likes long car rides, which is why I’m essential today. If they think that’s the main reason I want to go, then so be it.

            I step into a car drenched in the smell of snacks used to keep Papa awake. The pilgrimage begins.

           

            “What time did you get up?”

            “5,” I told him. “I expected you guys to be there at 6. Silly me.”

            He laughed the small, simple laugh he does. “Yeah, me too.” He, too, wears sunglasses, but carries a tanned and fit body that takes years off of him. A small cross hangs by his heart, held above the countless rosaries and faith books he owns by its position alone. He’s the follower you’d follow.

           

            Around the time we were talking about father figures, the story of my cousin’s friend was told. She was now living with my cousin’s family, alone and scared and pregnant and seventeen. She ran away from her home after her father slapped her around, demanding an abortion from her. The friction will probably cause the parents to divorce, Mums says.

            “That’s terrible,” I told them. “Do you know what I can do to help?”

            “I don’t know,” said Mums, her sunglasses and warm blacks still creating a presence even though I sat in front.

            There must be something I can do for her. Maybe I’d look after her child once it’s born, let her at least get a G.E.D.. I’d stay away from school for that. I don’t think I’d give up my life for the stranger, just my living life, if that makes any sense. Better than how I’m spending it now.

           

            “Let’s talk about gay marriage!”

            I laughed and turned to her, then said, “7:30. You waited. This must be a new record for you guys.”

            “So Nick,” she smiles, ready to attempt a conversion once again, “Let’s go back to what we were talking about earlier. If gays can marry, what’s to stop people from marrying a horse?”

            “If we’re judging by human standards, a horse’s mind will never be in the right state of mind to consent.” My original answer was “Horses can’t consent,” but I know about the answer I’d get in return.

            She told it anyway. “Yes it can! It can tap its hooves three times for yes!” We all laughed, and that laughter dragged down that line of conversation. Humor usually wins debates, the world’s and my own, but I’ve never been bothered too much by it till now. Makes me feel like a slogan-maker can usurp us.

           

            “Listen, Nick, I hope you understand it’s not gay people I’m against, it’s the gay act. Being gay in itself is not bad.”

            Great. It’s easier to debate someone when he or she is a full-fledged bigot. They’re still human.

           

            We pass by two construction workers standing tall over hundreds of cones. The one using the jackhammer has his mask off and cigarette in mouth as his tool obliterates the ground beneath him.

            The lanes double once more. “They finally ran out of cones!” we laugh.

           

            “What did you get in Chemistry?”

            “I haven’t checked,” I lied.


             My great-grandma was ahead of my time, I’m told. She was a strong believer in education as the future. Heck, she even flossed, a rarity in her time. When Mums was a young mother, great-Mums saved my mom’s life by recognizing a penicillin allergy. I change the subject.

   

 “How’s Shannan doing?”

            “…Ok.”

            “Has he found a job yet?”

            “No, he’s still waiting. You know, he’s been spending time on the Internet looking up autism, and he’s pretty sure he has it.”

            I don’t know why we let these guys use the Internet. “That’s a really… a really bad idea. You’re always going to jump to the worst possible conclusion if you do that. There’s this site, Web M.D., that’s the best example of that. You go there with a cold and leave believing you have cancer.”

           

            “You know you’re insulting me when you say things like that,” I tell them.

            We had jumped the topic towards Georgetown and the protests centered around Health and Human Secretary Kathleen Sebelius’s planned speech at their university. She was instrumental in the proposed regulations requiring all health employers to provide contraceptives.

            “Now Nick, I’m not saying that for you, because I know you’re smart.”

            “Do you really think we’re that much like plato?” I demanded, somehow still calm in voice. “She probably won’t even be talking about health care, those speeches tend to have a minimum blandness quota. We’re not influenced that easily.”

            This and the nun scandal lets me feel why so many people are too shy to declare they’re Catholic.

           

           

           

            After our Garmin led us a little astray, we finally glided across grass fields into the parking lot of Our Lady of Good Help Chapel. Worn, contracted bodies emerged from our car, happy to extend arms after four hours to the air and to the sprawling and small brick church in front of us. All the little grey roofs pointed to the golden cross on top of our destination.
            By a map, I read the posted story of St. Adele Joseph Brise, the aforementioned Lady. She left Belgium in 1855 with her family for Wisconsin, carrying with her a long-ago promise to live faith. On October four years later, she saw a lady in white, majestic and captivating, stand between two trees and then disappear into a white cloud. Following the advice of her confessor, she asked, “In God’s name, who are you and what do you want of me?” when the lady reappeared days later. Adele learned she was visited by Mary, Queen of Heaven, and that she was to catechize the children of this open and distorted land. This church was where she fulfilled this mission. She carried it through fatigue, ignorance, ridicule and even fire until her death in 1896. It wasn’t until 2010 that a Church board reviewed the miracles that occurred there and declared the apparitions authentic.

            A mass had just ended as we walked in, so we sat to kneel and pray. It was a large-domed wooden hall with modernity tacked on to the sides in the form of fans and lights. In front stood alabaster Mary, above the candles and the angels and flowers.

            We moved over to the candles and to a sacred object enshrined in thick glass. Papa handed me a card:

Prayer Petitions to Our Lady of Good Help O Mary, Queen of Heaven, intercede with your Son for me. Please help me with:

Blessed Mother, thank you for hearing my prayer. Amen. (These prayer petitions will be kept in the Altar of Good Help for one year.)

         




            I tried to give it back, but he insisted I use it. So I turned to face the brown box tucked away in the dim hall.

            I don’t like myself enough to pray for me. There’s plenty I could use help on, I suppose- I don’t know where I’ll be when the next school semester comes around- but it seems weird to beg for something I could get myself if I wasn’t an awful person. Shouldn’t ask for help when I’m the weight on the back of someone beyond me. I can’t help the pregnant seventeen-year-old this way due to the wording of the petition; the same goes for other concepts the Church and I see similarly. This little wood box has my awe. There’s a power in there I’m not sure I’m ready to address.

            I slip the paper in my pocket while Mums and Papa are at the candles. I should keep myself in good enough shape to drive. After all, the only reason I’m here is because they needed me.