Tuesday, March 30, 2010
They are lost, but also not lost but somewhere in the world. Most of them are small, though two are larger, one a coat and one a baby carriage full of boxes wrapped up in newspaper. Of the small things, one is a certain ring. It is lost from me and where I am, but it is also not gone. It is somewhere else, and it is there to someone else, it may be - possibly one of the white masks. But if not there to someone else, the ring is, still, not lost to itself, but there, only not where I am. If these white-masked buffoons don't find the ring soon I am seriously going to have a conniption fit.
Friday, March 26, 2010
"Well," said Daphne, "if Scooby and Shaggy hadn't been in the MacDuffs' living room, we may never have caught him!"
"What were the two of you doing in there?" asked Fred.
"We were just looking for something to eat!" said Shaggy. "And there was a table in that room that was covered with food!"
"Right!" said Scooby.
"Now we'll see who the REAL Macbeth is!" said Velma. Fred pulled on Macbeth's hair, lifting away a mask that revealed ... the Porter!
"And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!" said the Porter.
Everybody had a good laugh.
"So I guess all of the killings were just staged, then, in an attempt to frighten the patrons of Manderlay away so that Brookline could have their school back sooner!" said Daphne.
The sheriff smiled. "That's a good thought, but no, they're all dead. Duncan, Lady MacDuff, Banquo ... he really did kill them."
"Oh," said Daphne. The gang all looked at each other. "Well, that's depressing," Velma said at last.
Suddenly, a loud cry went up; MacDuff rushed in and leaped up on the Porter's shoulders. As Scooby Doo let out an impassioned "Ruh roh!", a noose descended from the ceiling, and MacDuff wrapped it around the Porter's neck, gave another shout, and then leaped away. The rope shot back up toward the ceiling, pulling the struggling figure of the Porter with it, until, after a few moments, he went completely still.
The gang all stared up at the Porter's body in silence, until finally several black-masked stewards appeared to usher them out of the room.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Anyway, I showed up where I was supposed to and knocked three times on the counter. The receptionist (he was dressed as a bellhop) gave me a string necklace with a charm on it and then motioned for me to go downstairs.
"Hecate will see you now."
Like everything else involved with this interview, Hecate was weird. She was wearing a red ballgown and she smiled a lot, but it was a cold, frozen smile. It looked like someone had described to her in great detail what smiling entailed but she had never actually seen someone smile before but decided to try it out anyway.
"So", she began, motioning me to sit on the couch next to her desk. " Where to begin? Tell me a little about yourself. Your work history, all that."
"Well", I said, "I first got into witching when..."
I was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a woman wearing a wig which resembled (and I don't have a better way of describing this) Rachel's haircut from the first season of Friends. The one all the magazines dubbed "The Rachel" - only it was dyed a shocking red.
"This doesn't work dyed red, Hecate!", the woman with the wig shouted. "I wanted it brown. I wanted a Rachel! A RACHEL!" She stamped her feet. Then, finally, she seemed to take notice of me.
"Who's that?" she asked, pointing in my direction.
"I'm thinking of expanding the operation", Hecate answered. "And the wig looks great. You look great. You're great. We'll talk about this later." Hecate motioned for the woman with the wig to leave. She exited through a red curtain, and I could hear the strains of Peggy Lee's "Is That All There Is?" coming from the the room she entered.
Hecate turned back to me.
"So sorry about that. Now let's see..."
Hecate began scanning my resume.
"It says here that you can predict the future. How good are you with that? Like, if I wanted to compel someone into, I dunno... murdering the king, would you be able to see different strands and then give the would-be-murderer the specific prediction which would compel him - OR HER - to do what I wanted? Just a hypothetical."
I told Hecate that my divination powers weren't that exact, but I rambled a bit and went on a little tangent about how working around problems sometimes helps someone find creative solutions. In the middle of my tangent someone wearing a ghostly white Venetian mask entered through the curtain, walked over to Hecate, and showed her a slim ring.
Hecate grabbed the ring excitedly and examined it, then looked up at the person in the white mask.
"That's not it." Then she added, brightly, "But keep looking!"
The person in the white mask left, dejected.
Hecate turned back to me.
"I swear, if it's not one thing around here, it's another. I'm always telling my friends, you don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps!"
She laughed at her own joke. Then her face went back to that strange icy smile.
"Okay, brass tacks time. One of the components of this job involves getting me a lot - a whole lot - of Frusen Glädjé ice cream. Do you have a problem with this?"
"Frusen Glädjé? The Häagen-Dazs knock-off? They don't even make that any more."
"Clearly it would require some outside-of-the-box thinking. That's what I need on my team. Someone who can solve problems in a creative way. You said before you solve problems in a creative way. Give me an action-plan. Not just to get me some of the Frusen Glädjé, but to get me all of the Frusen Glädjé. Think big."
I still didn't have a compelling answer. Hecate's smile disappeared. She asked me a few more questions, but I could tell at this point she was just going through the motions. I'd blown the interview.
After asking me what I thought my weaknesses were (I told her I'm too much of a perfectionist) she stood up, and indicated that I should do the same.
"It was great meeting you!", she told me. "We'll be in touch!"
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
in this empty abandoned verisimility school
alone with my dark thoughts
blood anger death
headless babies above the crib
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
and into my arms your icy glare arrives
we are dancing forever
Monday, March 22, 2010
"Check it out, guys!"
"It looks..... good?", the male witch answered in a half-declarative, half-questioning sing-songy voice.
"What was wrong with your old wig?", asked the long-haired witch.
"I dunno. I was watching that 'Friends' dvd someone left here in the school and I thought... MY job's a joke, I'M broke, and MY love life's DOA. This haircut speaks to me. I'm a young woman with the whole Old Lincoln School as my oyster. I want a more sassy look. One that says: 'Look out, Old Lincoln School! Bald Witch is here! I just might make it after all!'"
"Have you shown Hecate?", asked the Male Witch.
"I haven't yet. And screw her if she doesn't like it. Also, I'm gonna throw an idea at you guys: what if we turned this Replica Bar into a Replica Coffee Shop?"
Friday, March 19, 2010
After school we went straight to Lady Macbeth's. Before we started our official meeting we talked about Mrs. Danvers and her project to cover the classroom floor with hair and then build a witch nest in the back. We all agreed it was crazy and none of us could think of a single idea.
Then Lady Macbeth called the role. "Veronica?"
"I'm here," Lady MacDuff said.
"I'm here," The Bald Witch said.
"I'm here," I said.
"And so am I ... Alexandra." Lady Macbeth closed the roll book. "Well, let's get to it. We all feel each other's backs to make sure we're wearing our bras."
We all were.
"What size did you get, Bald Witch?" Lady Macbeth asked.
"I got a Gro-Bra," Bald Witch said.
"Me too," I said.
"Me too!" Lady MacDuff laughed.
"Not me," Lady Macbeth said, proudly. "Mine's a thirty-two double A."
We were all impressed.
"If you ever want to get out of those baby bras you have to exercise," she told us.
"What kind of exercise?" Lady MacDuff asked.
"Like this," Lady Macbeth said. She made fists, bent her arms at the elbow and moved them back and forth, sticking her chest way out. She said, "I must -- I must -- I must increase my bust." She said it over and over. We copied her movements and chanted with her. "We must - we must - we must increase our bust!"
"Good," Lady Macbeth told us. "Do it thirty-five times a day and I promise you'll see the results."
"Now, for our Boy Books," the Bald Witch said. "Is everybody ready?"
We put our Boy Books on the floor and Lady Macbeth picked them up, one at a time. She read each one and passed it around for the rest of us to see. Bald Witch's was first. She had sevevn names listed. Number one was MacDuff. Lady MacDuff had four names. Number one was MacDuff. Lady Macbeth listed eighteen boys. I didn't even know eighteen boys! And number one was MacDuff. When Lady Macbeth got to my Boy Book she choked on an ice cube from her glass of weird milk-like substance with I-don't-know-what-chopped-up-into-it. When she stopped choking she read, "Number one -- MacDuff." Everybody giggled.
"Number two -- Banquo. How come you picked him?"
I was getting mad. I mean, she didn't ask the others why they liked this one or that one, so why should I have to tell? I raised my eyebrows at Lady Macbeth, then looked away. She got the message.
When we were through, Lady Macbeth opened her bedroom door. There were Macbeth and the Male Witch, eavesdropping. They followed us down the stairs and outside. When Lady Macbeth said, "Get lost, we're busy," Macbeth and the Male Witch burst out laughing.
They shouted, "We must -- we must -- we must increase our bust!" Then they fell on the floor and rolled over and over laughing so hard I hoped they would both wet their pants.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
West of Old Lincoln School
You are standing in an alley west of a spooky abandoned school, with a boarded front door.
There is a small mailbox here.
North of Old Lincoln School
You are facing the north side of a spooky abandoned school. There is no door here, and all the windows are boarded up. To the north a narrow path winds through the trees.
Behind Old Lincoln School
You are behind the spooky abandoned school. A path leads into Brookline Village to the east. In one corner of the spooky abandoned school there is a small window which is slightly ajar.
With great effort, you open the window far enough to allow entry.
You are in a barroom. A table seems to have been used recently for the consumption of alcohol. A passage leads to the west and a dark staircase can be seen leading upward. To the east is a small window which is open.
On the table is an upside-side illuminated crystal ball filled with feathers.
A bottle is sitting on the table.
The glass bottle contains:
A quantity of water
If you're going to go further, you need to put on your white mask.
>put on white mask
You are now wearing the white mask.
You are in the Hotel Lobby. There is a wooden doorway to the east, a small closet area to the west, which appears to have a book hanging by a thread blocking it, a dresser, and a large oriental rug in the center of the room.
Above the dresser hangs a straight razor.
A battery-powered flashlight is on the trophy case.
With a great effort, the rug is moved to one side of the room, revealing the dusty cover of a closed trap door.
Which door do you mean, the wooden door or the trap door?
The door reluctantly opens to reveal a rickety staircase descending into darkness.
You are carrying:
A venetian mask
A playing card (a gift from Charlie)
A glass bottle
The glass bottle contains:
A quantity of water
>take straight razor
You have moved into a dark place.
The trap door crashes shut, and you hear someone barring it.
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by Mrs. Danvers.
Your straight razor is glowing with a faint blue glow.
>turn on flashlight
The flashlight is now on.
You are in a replica of Manderlay, looking as if the bar had been neglected for several years. Some run-down musical instruments are on a stage. A narrow passageway leads north, and a crawlway to the south. On the west is the bottom of a steep metal ramp which is unclimbable.
This is a small room with passages to the east and south and a forbidding hole leading west. Bloodstains mar the walls. For reasons you cannot fathom, there are open umbrellas lining the ceiling.
A witch, brandishing a playing card, blocks all passages out of the room.
Your straight razor has begun to glow very brightly.
The witch does an interpretive dance, pins you to the wall, and tries to transfer the playing card from his mouth to yours.
>kill witch with straight razor
You are pinned to the wall, so your attack is ineffective.
The witch is still trying to transfer the playing card to you.
You break free and charge, but the witch jumps nimbly aside.
The witch is staggered, and drops to his knees.
The witch does another interpretive dance, this time to a Peggy Lee song.
The fatal blow strikes the witch square in the heart: He dies.
Almost as soon as the witch breathes his last breath, a cloud of sinister black fog envelops him, and when the fog lifts, the carcass has disappeared. Also, whenever any of the actors die in this game, they just wander around like ghosts for a while anyway. You accomplished nothing. NOTHING.
Your straight razor is no longer glowing.
A steward tells you not to do that.
Are you enjoying yourself?
Very good. Now you can go to the second grade.
>look at me
That’s difficult unless your eyes are prehensile.
Your score is 37 (total of 350 points), in 26 moves.
This gives you the rank of A.R.T. Subscriber.
Do you wish to leave the game? (Y is affirmative):
> Ok. Maybe you'll enjoy our "Paradise Lost" game more. It's a much more conventional theatrical staging. There are even seats.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
1. Hecate has used her magical powers to transform herself into Abraham Lincoln as part of a plan to travel back in time, invent Frusen Glädjé, and claim the patent for herself - creating an alternate reality where it never went out of production. Why she had to transform herself into Abraham Lincoln to do this I'm not entirely sure on. Maybe so she could rush the patent process.
2. After Hecate's recent trip into the past (see the photo accompanying the Civil War entry), she accidentally left some Frusen Glädjé behind in the 19th century. President Lincoln, so bewitched by its quasi-Swedish deliciousness, had his chief scientist build a time machine so he could travel into the future and attempt to steal Hecate's Frusen Glädjé.
3. The bald witch and MacDuff formed an alliance to steal Hecate's stock of Frusen Glädjé and, fearing her wrath, traveled back in time with it to the 19th century where they joined President Lincoln's famous "Team of Rivals" cabinet. MacDuff as Secretary of Defense and the bald witch as Secretary of Discontinued ice cream brands with quasi-Swedish names.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
“What happened to you?” MacDuff shouted. Banquo stared at him blankly. “Use the other ear, I can’t hear out of this one!” Banquo shouted back. The sounds of a giant explosion pierced the auditorium as an unloaded cannon went off; the two men ducked instinctively, and then MacDuff went around to Banquo’s other side. “I said, what – happened – to – you!” MacDuff shouted. “Did one of those guys actually hit you in the head?”
“No!” Banquo shouted back. “I was in the Second Mrs. De Winter’s room! She was giving me a cup of tea! Remember that scene? One of my favorites! Anyway, Confederate soldiers came in and barricaded the door to fend off an overwhelming Union force! I left through the side door into that room full of hair, and I was so dizzy that I tripped over the hair and hit my head on a desk! Some Union medical re-enactors saw me and bandaged me up!”
MacDuff tried to reply, but several more cannons went off, and the Confederate rebel yell was heard as a large team of re-enactors came leaping off the stage to charge into the ongoing make-believe fray. “What did you say?” shouted Banquo.
“I said I have to get downstairs for my scene with the dark-haired witch! But there’s a Union blockade at both stairwells, and my gray pants are making them think I’m with the other team!” Banquo stared at him blankly again, until finally he said “I guess we’ll have to shoot them!”
“What?” asked MacDuff.
“I said I guess we’ll have to shoot them!”
“No, I heard that! I meant, what do you mean?”
Banquo pointed to some period rifles lying beside the bodies of fallen re-enactors. “We need to pick up some of their rifles and then convince the actors at one of the blockades that we’ve shot them!” MacDuff nodded. “All right, let’s go!” he shouted. “Grab two,” said Banquo, “I think Malcolm’s stuck across the hall!”
As the two of them dodged through the embattled room to retrieve some rifles, MacDuff turned to Banquo and said, “I can’t believe we all agreed to do Sleep No More: The Sequel without reading the fucking script first!”
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Amazing Royal Crowns singer Jason "King" Kendall felt around the pitch-black corridor he had just entered. He couldn't see anything, except for the light emitted by a flickering candle on the floor. A small, more illuminating beam of light suddenly appeared behind him.
The source of the beam of light was bassist Jack "The Swinger" Hanlon, wielding a pen-light. "I got this pen-light from Misfits guitarist Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein", Jack explained matter-of-factly. "But that is a tale for another day."
"I want to see what's in this room", said whoever the band's drummer was that week, as he led everyone into Duncan's bedroom. Duncan was lying on his bed, asleep. Macbeth entered and proceeded to murder Duncan, fulfilling the witches' prophesy.
Jason "King" Kendall pointed at Macbeth once the murder reached its conclusion.
"NOW YOU'RE KING OF THE JOINT!", Jason shouted.
A masked steward shushed him.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
As she topped the stairwell, a baritone voice sang an unfamiliar tune. The melody was coming from the chapel. She headed for the door at the end of the hallway and set about finding an entryway that wasn't blocked by a hanging book tied with black ribbon. Beyond the chapel sat Banquo’s grandmother’s house (well, the room meant to represent Banquo's grandmother's house anyway), and past that was the paved road used by the English in their cars (well, the room meant to represent the paved road used by the English in their cars. Just take it as read going forward that any place in the story is actually the room meant to represent it.)
Banquo used the cars of the English. The Second Mrs. DeWinter’s lips curved into a smile. More accurately, he drove a rattletrap of an old truck. Even though his order of Mennonites was very conservative, much more so than many of the other Mennonite groups, they didn’t hesitate to use electricity and vehicles, nor to do bizarre stairwell dances involving chairs. Still, his sect believed in cape dresses and prayer Kapps for the women. Surely there was nothing wrong with her caring for Banquo since the Amish didn’t consider his order as being an Englischer or fancy.
As the Second Mrs. DeWinter opened the door to the chapel, Banquo appeared in the doorway. His head was hatless, a condition frowned upon by her bishop, revealing hair the color of forest trees glistening under the sun. His eyes showed up in The Second Mrs. DeWinter’s dreams regularly.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
it's 3 in the morning wtf do you want
Frusen Gladje, bitch. I'm queen of the witches, do my bidding.
the 80s called they want their ice cream back
Im at the 2nd consult with the witches, want anything while im out
OMG THERES BLOOD EVERYWHERE BRING COMET
Sexy witch totally making eyes at me after Moonlight Becomes You and Hecate cock-blocked me!
Mrs danvers so high that shes writing on walls with chalk. shes squating in the bathtub quacking. that was NOT JUST pot in teh milk.
I'm going to kill Macbeth tonight. >:-(
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
- Duncan is laying in a bed that is 2.5 meters long, 2 meters wide, and 1 meter tall. He has a mass of 80 kilograms. Beside him is a pillow measuring 16 inches wide, 10 inches long, and four inches thick. The pillow’s mass is 6 ounces. Solve for MUUURRRDDDEERRRR.
- This is a three part question.
- Lady MacDuff is climbing up a bookcase in her room. The bookcase is 3 meters tall. Her mass is 45 kilograms. Calculate her potential energy. (Hint: it's 1324.35 Joules)
- Once upon the bookcase, which is 1 meter from the ceiling, Lady MacDuff begins to rub a small statuette of the Virgin Mary. The statuette is a foot and a half tall and weighs 16 pounds. She rubs it at a rate of 5 rubs per second. How long will you watch her do this?
- Extra Credit: How long will it take for her to rub the statue into nonexistence? Is there a curse associated with doing this? Seriously, is there? Because I did that once, and if there’s a curse, I need to do something about it immediately. No, really. I rubbed a sacred statue into nonexistence. Of course, this was in the seventies, so it might have been a hallucination, but I’ve been having some wicked flashbacks, man. Some really wicked flashbacks.
- Lady MacDuff is climbing up a bookcase in her room. The bookcase is 3 meters tall. Her mass is 45 kilograms. Calculate her potential energy. (Hint: it's 1324.35 Joules)
- MacDuff enters the room and climbs the bookcase. His mass is 70 kilograms. The MacDuffs begin to perform an intense dance atop the bookcase, rolling and writhing past one another in the small, cramped space between the top of the bookcase and the ceiling. How fucking cool is that?
- Having fun
- Freaking out
- Contemplating the deeper meaning behind his actions as they relate to either Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Hitchcock’s Rebecca, or your own troubled existence
- All of the above
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
My next move. A War Mammoth doth thou face
with 3/3 trample; now is your disgrace!
I lightning bolt your mammoth, fiend.
Nay, with Giant Growth the damage is abated.
Bartender, that move will yet prove fatal.
I lay a Shivian Dragon on the table.
Macbeth appears at the door.
Thou playest the game Magic without me? You’ll pay for such a slight, this I decree!
Malcolm and the Speakeasy Bartender flee. Macbeth and Banquo fight.
You know how much I love to play this game!
You callous cretin; do you feel no shame?
I feel none.
Well feel this, you stupid ass.
Macbeth throws Banquo across the bar and into the wall on the other side.
Mother fucker! He fell on broken glass!
Banquo dies. Macbeth flees. But don’t worry, kids - MacDuff kills him to end the play, so he gets what’s coming to him.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Duncan’s room. Duncan is asleep on the bed. Macbeth is crouched over him, pillow in hand.
“Do you see how he’s holding the pillow?” Jerry whispered to George. “He’s just got his hands on either side of it! That’s no way to smother somebody.”
“I can’t see anything out of this stupid mask,” George whispered back. “It doesn’t fit right over my glasses. I think I should take it off.”
“You can’t take it off,” whispered Elaine. “They told us to keep our masks on at all times.”
“Well what’s the point,” George whispered angrily, “if I can’t see anything while I’m wearing it?”
“Shhhhh!” warned one of the audience members.
“I mean, Duncan could just wiggle out from under there, the way he’s holding it,” Jerry whispered. “What he should do is get both hands on top of the pillow. Then he’d have better smothering coverage.”
“Smothering coverage? Since when are you an expert in smothering people?” Elaine whispered.
“It’s not rocket science. It’s smothering,” Jerry whispered back. “The man just needs some more smothering covrage.”
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m taking this stupid mask off,” George muttered. He lifted it up onto his head.
“Put your mask back on!” an audience member whispered harshly.
“Come on, George, just put it back on, you’re ruining the show,” Elaine added.
“No, it’s this mask that’s ruining the show,” said George, “this stupid mask.”
“George,” sighed Jerry, “don’t make a scene.”
“I’m not making a scene!” George shouted. “I’m taking a stand! You know what? I say we all take our masks off. Eh? It’s a free country. Who says we have to wear a mask to watch a show? A show that we all paid to see!”
Two very large black-masked attendants approached George, lifted him bodily off the floor, and began to carry him out of the room. “I paid to see this show!” he shouted. “I paid for it! I can do whatever I want!”
Jerry turned to one of the audience members next to him. “Can you believe that guy?” he whispered.
“Shhh!” the audience member whispered back.
Kramer burst through the door. “Jerry, I figured it out! It’s Shakespeare!”