Alysse Aallyn

Tag: Relationships

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    20 Aug 76 – 11 AM

                       I start The Mass at St Secaire for the thousandth

     time with one good idea:  Manage transitions by IGNORING them. 

    Just start abruptly somewhere else and worry about it later!  Outside 

    R sits in a lawn chair playing the guitar. When he falls silent he’s writing 

    down notes. He says I have a good effect on him, getting him writing again.

                       In the meantime, I made a list of literary essays I want to 

    write and to my surprise there were more than 20. When I get back I 

    will make a folder for each one and start collecting notes and ideas, 

    beginning when I feel I have enough. How to finish a book of poems, 

    finish and send out a novel, write 20 literary essays while working a 

    45 hr week? My heart quavers. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get a job 

    that isn’t straight typing – then having to type when I come home. 

                    Balzac could have done it. Trollope could have done it – I don’t 

    think I can do it. But I certainly don’t want to lose R – he is a rare 

    being. I need a deus ex machina of some kind. Maybe my gothic 

    will sell.

                       So glad this is our last day at Summer Camp. Couldn’t say that to R – 

    he would think I hadn’t enjoyed myself. Last night he stretched 

    me out naked on his lap and played me like a guitar – most 

    delicious thing. Waves of ecstasy bulging, rolling and crashing 

    inside me. He says I’m so fun to please. Talks about how he 

    would like to adopt deaf children. This means I would have to

     learn sign. Sounds good but I feel lazy and stubborn. Feel like 

    a fledgling – flight pattern undetermined.

                     R. wrote a song called Blue Lake Blues.  Bad. I wrote a 

    poem called Diaries. Don’t know what I think of it.

    Diaries

    I don’t remember anything –

    I’m an amnesiac so

    I write everything down

    Stuffed in my closet

    Beneath discarded ball gowns

    utterly useless but

    too beautiful to throw away.

    Recollect & treasure 

    Acts of writing

    An up and over downtime scrawl;

    Recall a surgeon

    Cutting flesh

     Tugging, swearing, splitting ,sweating

     peeling waste from want.

    Fierce liftoff –

    Airborne I’m granted

    Hawk’s-eye vision

    Backwards , forwards

    Past & future.

    Too much dig is spoilage-

    Freedom mined 

    Invaluable.

      Club Shalimar, Mon 23 Aug 76

                       Should be glad to be back but I’m so depressed. 

    Everything so mixed up. Promised R I’d get another job so 

    now I have to look for one, which won’t be pleasant. God 

    knows what I’ll have to say I was doing.  Once when I was 

    married I tried to get a loan and of course they wouldn’t give me 

    one without “collateral” – something of which I’d never heard. 

    Dad said tell them I had a basement filled with gold bullion.

     I guess I could just tell employers the bullion ran out.

                       Then I walk up to the club and whose car should be 

    there – but R’s. He had told me he wouldn’t come in as long as 

    I was working there. He said he just needed to talk to Rick because 

    Rick is helping him feel better. 

                       I think what will happen is that I won’t work there any

     more but R will drop in when he feels like it. I want to “ban” him 

    but I even more don’t want to be having these conversations.

    He says I just do it for the money and because it’s easy and of 

    course that’s perfectly true. If I got $500 a week from writing I 

    probably wouldn’t dance.  

                       The fact that something feels natural and pleasurable 

    and doesn’t leave you feeling depleted at the end of each day

     isn’t a point against it to my way of thinking.  He’s just an old 

    fashioned sexist pig.  On the other hand he is a special person 

    and I definitely don’t want to dance forever. 

                       Sometimes I think the whole problem is that he’s 

    getting a divorce and he’s so unready for a relationship he’s 

    giving me hoops to jump through.  But even if we got married 

    I’d have to be at financially independent – he’s just too different 

    from me for me to trust that he will agree with me about what’s 

    right for me. My theory is it doesn’t hurt to look for a job.   Maybe

     I’ll find something special or interesting.

                     11:20 PM – Avril called – R staggered in dead drunk, 

    said “Call Alysse and tell her I’m here and set the alarm for 5:30” 

    and then passed out on the sofa.  I told them to hide his car keys 

    in case he wakes up and tries to go someplace. I’m glad he’s safe, 

    on the other hand I’m annoyed that he’s been touring the bars. 

    He plainly didn’t go to his apartment, drink and then go to my 

    house. My guess is total strangers up and down Wisconsin 

    Avenue have been hearing his heartrending saga of the misery of 

    dating an exotic dancer.

                       11:00 AM – Tues 24 Aug 76

                       Lying in the same bed where R and I made love five 

    hours ago – just finished Tyler’s Clockwinder. Puzzled by the 

    lack of passion in her strange, sad, minor novels.  Tonight R is 

    picking me up and taking me “someplace” – I have my eye on 

    a little restaurant – where we can talk it out. I hope he’s paying 

    because I have exactly $177 to live on till Sept 7 and $125 of 

    that is rent. I’m trying to look at the future calmly – I love him, 

    he loves me – who knows what may happen?

                       2:40 PM Was feeling so much better I was going 

    to work on sending out poems until I looked around at this place. 

    A and I desperately need Maeve to live here to help out with 

    expenses and she is not the tidiest person.  A says she never 

    cleaned her other place after the party and it smells like a 

    dead body.  I cleaned and now I feel better but not in the mood 

    for literature – more in the mood to take my dishpan hands to 

    the mall. However I won’t because it would just result in 

    expenditures.

                       3:40 PM  Obviously R doesn’t really respect me. 

    Otherwise he wouldn’t manipulate me like this. I don’t think 

    he cares about me being a writer at all.  He would actually 

    like it better if he could introduce me to people as “my girlfriend 

    the insurance agent.” That makes sense in his little world. I 

    could break up with him but I’d have to find another place to

     work anyway – he’s ruined Shalimar for me.  One can understand 

    and deplore and get mad, but the alternative is loneliness. All I want 

    is to go out and have fun, have someone to play and smooch with. 

    Finding and then cultivating such a person is incredibly exhausting – 

    and aren’t 99% of them only going to have the same (or worse) 

    reactions he’s having anyway?

                       10:40 AM Thurs 26 Aug –76 – Club Shalimar

                       Yesterday morning Maeve and I lingering over coffee 

    and chat – no one wanting to return to their life – and the phone 

    rang. It was editor Ruby Jenkins at Pyramid wanting to make an 

    offer on my book. She says it has a lot of wit and depth and is 

    really extraordinary and if they don’t take it someone else will.  

    That’s two editors on my side. Asked all about me – so I told what I was 

    doing, schools, what I’d had published – that Harcourt just turned down Find Courtney.  

                      She’d called my parents in Maine because she couldn’t 

    get in touch with my agent but left a message.  I just put the 

    phone down and screamed for 20 solid minutes. Then went to 

    Shalimar and quit – gave them a week’s notice. 

                       Didn’t  tell them about book – Carmen guessed about 

    Ryder – narrowed her eyes into slits and tried to tell me a 

    lot of terrible stuff about him, about how he always pursued 

    dancers – although she admits, after me, not any more. She 

    said if I ever need the job again, they’d give it to me.  That 

    was nice. Randy the bouncer had tears in his eyes because 

    he says I’m so amusing and no one else can make him laugh. 

                       R’s “celebration” was to take me to Garfinckel’s at 

    the Montgomery Mall to buy me underwear. He takes it 

    strangely personally that I don’t wear a bra or underpants 

    half the time.  This could have been a fun, even erotic experience

    but he was so weird I almost had a nervous breakdown – so 

    bizarrely controlling like he doesn’t know what presents are.  

    The missionary purchasing fig leaves for the natives!  Felt 

    offensively “managed”.

                       If he had bought me lingerie and given it to me 

    that would have been one thing.  I could take them back if I 

    didn’t like them.  This was if he were my parent or something – 

    I really can’t explain why it was so insulting. I finally allowed him buy me 

    a pink silk robe, which I refused to try on – of course it will fit. 

    Duh. 

                       We should have been celebrating.  Not only can I 

    quit dancing but they’ve put him on the eleven pm news and 

    now we could have mornings together. But at the Japanese 

    steakhouse he really acted wooden headed. I think it’s some 

    sort of a gender problem – men understand that their self-respect 

    is tied up with autonomy but they seem to think the opposite 

    must be true about women. I’m trying too hard not to despise 

    him. Anything I could say sounds hurtful. 

                       At the very same time he’s trying to “tether” me he’s

     trying to free himself. He said, what if I want to take another girl 

    out? And I said, well you can but you have to tell me about it

     before hand. He said, I know how I’d feel if you said that to me. 

                      I told him he probably doesn’t have to worry – I can’t imagine 

    wanting another man. Now he’s “scared” I’m going to become 

    a famous writer!   So we went back to my place and made love

     for three hours and it was very satisfying. He was all over me 

    and it felt like the last time in some critical way.  

                       To me he seems less like a man getting out of a 

    marriage than some kind of shipwreck victim who has never 

    seen or imagined our society and is becoming increasingly 

    excited about the sexually liberated possibilities.   How can 

    we avoid breaking up over this?  Can’t I just get a fat check

     from  my book and be a young writer about town? I sincerely 

    hope that’s the way it will go. Reading Rose, my years in 

    Service about Lady Astor’s maid.

                       Sat 28 Aug 76 Shalimar

                       Ryder tried to pressure me not to go to work by 

    saying “we shouldn’t be seeing each other if you’re dancing”.  I remind him 

    we have a dinner party coming up and a vacation in Maine!  

    Why the hysteria? Reading Henri Peyre’s The Failures of 

    Criticism. Last set. 

                       3PM Mon 30 Aug 76

                       Wakened by air-conditioner going on – Ryder 

    climbing in bed with me fully clothed so there would be “no sex”

     – of course that didn’t work. He is very upset about my sense 

    of physical freedom – said wouldn’t “let” me be painted in the 

    nude by Andrew Wyeth!  I pointed out that his wife was his 

    ideal woman – totally restrained and untrained and ignorant 

    and unavailable in every way he wanted – and he hated it.  

    Can’t understand why he has to be such a jackass when all 

    his dreams are coming true.

                       3 Sept 76

                       Just back from the worst vacation of my life. Both 

    Avril and I took completely unacceptable men to our parents’ island – 

    alas, my man was the most unacceptable –   doing nothing but 

    fighting and sulking. He finally said such unforgiveable things I had

     to drive him to the ferry and push him off into space. His last 

    words were “I love you.”  Day late and a dollar short. The worst

     things he said were that I dress like a slut, anyone looking at 

    me would instantly assume I was a prostitute. This was said to me

     while I was wearing my gorgeous emerald scarf tied around my 

    breasts and my long denim skirt and Nefertiti necklace and looking

     like a goddess for parents’ dinner party. 

                       He said if I don’t start wearing a bra my breasts will 

    be “ruined” and he doesn’t want to wake up age 35 married to 

    only a “mind”. (The mind is in fact quite unimportant in his world.)

     His wife, he assured me, always dressed most tastefully – 

    nobody desiring her ever.  Didn’t cross his mind that the fact 

    that she was dead-on-arrival in the sack and her inability to 

    enjoy and celebrate her own body could be in any way connected. 

                   He told me my poems are awful and self-indulgent and I 

    live entirely in my own head.  I was finally forced to tell him

     that what with his long hair, leisure suits, stacked heels and 

    man-purse most people just assume he’s gay. 

                       But who cares what “most people” think – and 

    would we even ever know?  He really got on my bad side seemingly 

    justifying rape – women “ask for it” with their clothing, male 

    self control not an issue. I said if a crazy girl escaped from an 

    institution and ran down the street naked would men be “ justified” 

    raping her? He said yes so obviously it was over between 

    us from that moment. The truth, of course, is that he was 

    overwhelmingly jealous from the second he arrived on the island

     – possibly earlier – by the fact that I am a separate human being,  

    who has ever existed out of his sight.

                       17 Sept 76

                       It really is over with R.  My fault for going so fast. 

    R leaving messages on my answering machine every day, 

    trying to make me jealous with “don’t call back tonight I won’t

     be in”.  Finally decided I owe it to him to tell him where I’m

     working – I know he thinks I returned to dancing – the 

    scum. Sent him a card saying we should meet for dinner

     in a couple of months. Appt. with Georgetown Employment 

    Agency 10;30 AM tomorrow.

                       12;25 PM

                        Ryder came by to pick up his jackets. He said, 

    “You’re the most valuable person in the world to me.” Trying not

     to goad him into pyrotechnics, so, showed nothing. He was calm, 

    played with the dog, kissed me on the cheek and said, “I love you” 

    and left.  He is worthy of a hefty Freudian tome all to himself. I want to send him a copy of The Intimate Enemy but he wouldn’t 

    (couldn’t) read it. He’s totally about not wanting what he has, 

    having what he doesn’t want, wanting something else and 

    hating himself into the bargain. I pity anyone involved with him – 

    mainly I pity me – still fixated on his worthlessness apparently. 

                     Washing the dishes in floods of tears. I bragged to him that I didn’t want to change him – that isn’t true.  I don’t feel I have the right to change people while he wants to specify every detail about me.  

    The worst is I know how he would exult in his power over me. 

    Still wearing his black coral diver’s cross as a charm. When R 

    says dismissively “Be free” he means “Be alone”.

                       Sun. 12 Sept 76 – 12:05 PM 

                       Yesterday turned down job at art gallery that would 

    have been wonderful but paid dirt.  They say I “might” get 

    commissions on sales. Have a feeling Mom and Dad would 

    push for it – it was very upscale – just didn’t feel right to me.

                       FINALLY letter from agent; Pyramid offering $2500 

    advance, 6% to 150,000 copies, 8% thereafter, a few minor revisions. 

    Always less than you think but not as bad as the gallery – I say 

    hells yes. Still have to find job; something that lets me write.

                       I called Ryder with info, left message. Have to go 

    to NY to sign contract so job hunt suspended for now.

                       Mon 13 Sept 76

                       Avril and Mike met me and Ryder at The Royal 

    Warrant for drinks to celebrate my book. I wore long sexy 

    purple lace-up dress – nothing he’d object to however. 

    (Royal Warrant because their drinks are huge.) Wore 

    sandals with kitten heels and I was still  taller than him.  

    I wonder if that’s what this is about. I invited him home after 

    and he accepted.  He concentrated on making me come. Said

     he can’t consider dating a girl who doesn’t wear a bra. I said I 

    might wear one in my first pregnancy. Gave him my copy of 

    Intimate Enemy  when he left. Reading Brownmiller’s excellent 

    Against our Will.

                       11:45 AM 14 Sept 76 – Tues. Boiling hot.

                       I need a full-time psychiatric nurse, vicious guard dog 

    and a secretary. Phone ringing off the hook. Agent called 

    reversing charges.  Ryder wants to celebrate his salary bump. 

    How can two people who despise each other as much as we do 

    want to have sex all the time?  Beats me. Ryder’s latest charge is 

    that I wrote a novel for money.  Get it?  I’m a prostitute!  Then he 

    marches off to his yessir, nosir job whistling. You can’t win with him. 

    Cheered myself up reading old diaries about my marriage.  At least it’s not as bad as that.  I used to lock myself in the bathroom to howl.  

    Reading Simenon’s Venice Train.  He is too mannered.

                       Ryder forced me to look at his island pictures – I am the 

    ugliest beautiful woman in the world.  He tries to use this against me 

    but of course we were fighting the whole time.  No one can be lovely under such conditions. Does “love” entail not just “sacrifice” but loss of identity?  Went out and bought a pair of six inch heels. When I am with Ryder, I love him but when I’m away, the cloud lifts.  

    Attempting to seduce Devon by sending him a copy of the poem Cedarwood Chest.

    Cedarwood Chest

    Grandpa died young that’s why

    Grandma never opened

    The Cedarwood chest

    Till my twelve years unlocked

    The scent of dreams preserved

    Like mullet in red wine.

    Never used the wilting nightgowns

    Featherstitched sheets

    Between whose coffee-colored creases

    Bay leaves crumbled

    (Like my reserve when you laid hands

    Upon it) how it

    Comes back that mossy sad 

    Perfume! I want to lay

    You away in darkness and tissue but

    I can’t

    I must use you and risk

    Your wearing out

                       God knows what he’ll think but I know he’ll give a better 

    reaction than R.  Lunch in NY 12:30 Tues – have to take the 7 AM 

    train to make it work!

                       7:45 AM Mon 20 Sept 76

                       R’s latest accusation is that I fell in love first!!  So weird. 

    Reminiscent of Bruce.  Some version of gaslighting? It’s a definite 

    power grab. He said he was “embarrassed” by my emotional intensity! 

    I have a feeling he’s trying to cobble together a story he can tell other 

    people. As for me, I’m trying to figure out what really happened. Used 

    to think R’s lack of experience wouldn’t affect us but I can see it really 

    has. Got my hair cut; of course I think it’s too short. Dreading what 

    Genevieve will say.

                       10:40 AM Wed 22 Sept. 76

                       Woke up after horrible nightmare in which Jacqueline 

    Susann showed me her cancer to have R drive me to the station.  

    We’re in a financial nightmare – A’s rent check bounced twice so

     expenses going up. R says I have to start an exercise plan – 

    since I can’t dance.   He’s hilarious!

                       Lunch with Ruby and my agent.  Agent (Ruth) was euphoric.   

    Starting to feel the book was written by a stranger. I tried so hard to

     make it English and Victorian – I NEVER want to do that again. 

    Can’t say THAT, obviously, especially after Ruby remarked I was 

    “so good looking we should make it a series.”  Devlyn’s best gothic 

    they’ve ever read! They both drank heavily while disagreeing with 

    virtually everything I had to say about poetry and literature. Their 

    recommendation: write a love story. Pity we don’t know what love is, 

    isn’t it?  I MIGHT be able to manage a sex story. Oh well. Genevieve 

    full of secret divorce-and-getting-together-with-hush-hush-sweetie 

    plans.  Don’t tell her husband Kent anything. He asks me what’s going on – 

    I play dumb but not too well.  He must know something’s up.  

    Awkward! Walk to library and back thinking about St. Secaire. 

    How make that a love story?  Everyone’s a predator or an idiot.

  • Becoming a Warrior – the Warrior Oracle by Alysse Aallyn

    The Lovers – Alliances –

      When This Card Chooses You – Check your friend list. Do you dream of love, sex, connection? Hand-holding, hugging, family celebrations? You were born to search for Alliances. An alliance is symbiotic, good for both sides of the equation. To reach out, you must each decide your motive (“I Could Use a Friend”) and approach with the CERTAINTY that you are WORTHY of friendship. This last one is tricky because we are all looking for validation. This is the source of many “imposter” dreams where we find ourselves naked in front of the entire class, unprepared on Test Day!

      You Are a Giver and Worthy of Help – We can’t get through this alone, and we don’t want to. Luckily, we are surrounded by other humans, struggling, just like us. If we pledge to help each other, we can dispatch terror and celebrate joy! Comforting! But how can we tell the difference between Builders and Exploiters? We don’t want to end up as someone else’s meal.

      Warrior Danger – When someone is trying to mangle your self-esteem, recognize this. Even if it comes in the guise of “friendship” this person is an enemy. This is not what friends are for. When someone is trying to “capture” you, i.e. limit and control your possibilities and behavior, that person is a hostage-taker looking for slaves. NOT a friend.

      Warrior Challenge – How to recognize friends? Friends are honest: “I just don’t like that dress but maybe it’s me.” Friends are forgiving, ‘I’m sorry, I was having a bad day. I know you’re sorry, too.” Friends are fun, “Let’s cheer ourselves up.” Friends are helpful: “Let’s figure a way out of this.” Are you honest, forgiving, fun-loving and helpful? You’re ready to be a friend. Friendship is a good place to start. Be the friend you want to have – warm, funny, loyal, truthful.

      Love Enriches – It Does Not Deplete – – Friends are a mirror in which we see ourselves. We can experiment with possibilities, we can expand our reach. Our intelligence is doubled, as well as our efforts. Our sorrows are halved and our ideas are increased exponentially. Reach out! You never know until you try. And there’s always the possibility of Love and deepening sexual connection.

      Love Transforms As A Warrior Transforms – Things you thought you could not do seem possible now because someone believes in you. Believe in yourself because they do, and honor them by believing in them, in return.

      Locked Back to Back the Warrior Pair Sees Everything – Gaze turns outward at the world, not inward on each other. Are you chewing or strengthening? Learn the steps of your tango. Add new steps of your own.

      As You Change, the Couple Changes – Compare Training Journals. Are you evolving? Can you evolve together? Is it safe to speak the truth? Does one partner try to dominate? Does one partner use infantile behaviors to get “their way”? There is no “one way.” As joint warriors, the couple has goals also. Compare. Allow differences. The truth will be revealed.

      Models & Mentors – “You are my sun, my moon and all my stars”
      – e.e. cummings

      “All that we love deeply becomes a part of us” – Helen Keller

      “Love makes your soul crawl out of its hiding place” – Zora Neale Hurston

      “Love is not proud or boastful, keeps no record of past mistakes – love rejoices in the truth”

      – II Corinthians

      “Laugh as much as you breathe, love as long as you live” – Rumi

      #Haiku: The Lovers

      Falling upwards
      Into you
      My other wing, my second
      Clapping hand

    1. The Controversy: a poem by Alysse Aallyn

      The Controversy

      In the bar we argue
      You drink gin and I drink bourbon
      You admit there’s something out there but
      God and Christ have been discredited
      You prefer the snake-faced aliens.

      Can pedagogues discredit learning
      I demand -Do rapists disgrace sex?
      Outside the blank-faced soldiers
      Breathing on the glass of history
      Await their time.

      They are glad to lend their bones
      As lumber. They’re afraid to live.
      Rebel children seize the city
      Experimenting on the damned.
      We’re trapped inside the hourglass

      Moving not in circles but in spirals –
      Moving somewhere.
      You order a stronger round
      I look inside my wallet
      To see what’s left.

    2. The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

      Chapter Three – Fifth Avenue

      Relief to turn away


      And make what I could of the street outside.


      New York City! But


      All I saw was dark and dingy.


      On Fifth Avenue; nonstop parade of glittery storefronts &
      Entitled shoppers.


      Glamorous trousseau fun!
      . Our limo pulls up to Questrina,
      Sets off parking lights;
      A woman rushed through the double doors offering
      Glossy green dress bags in outstretched hands-


      Driver swept them to the car and we were off again.
      “Your clothes,” explained Verne.
      Excitement, confusion; the
      Disappointment that
      Always follows bait and switch:


      You get SOMETHING
      Just not what you expected.
      Had my dress been chosen for me?
      “I thought Maribel and I-“
      “Oh, there’s lots for you to do,”
      He dismissed.


      Surprised he didn’t offer
      Lollies to distract me.
      “Here we are,” says would-be groom.
      “My place.”
      A skyscraper on Fifth Avenue?


      Shiny red and black doorman – general
      Of a third world country –
      Rushed the curb. “Your lordship.”
      I thought my ears unplugged.
      Had I heard this right?
      Did he speak American and
      was Verne in fact, “a lord”?


      I should have watched those damned
      Downton Abbey episodes my folks begged me to see
      instead of proudly sequestering with Japanese anime.
      Limo driver brought all bags –
      He had to use a different elevator.


      43 floor ride,
      black & gold enameled door thrown open on the penthouse
      there stood Mirabel.

      Chapter Four : The Lost Sister

      My eyes filled with tears and I realized
      How much I’d feared that
      This was all a scam.
      “Darling!”


      She waved her skinny arms and kissed the air.
      “Mwah! Mwah! You escaped!”
      I couldn’t touch her –
      We laughed and laughed.
      She gave Verne a burning look –
      “Get us drinks”


      And dragged me –
      Literally DRAGGED me into
      A double-doored bedroom and
      Swept me down upon a white flokati rug.
      We were children again –
      Conspiring & strategizing together or
      She played all the parts and I
      Gazed on adoringly.


      She took control with those hypnotic eyes
      While my school self asked,
      IS this really Mirabel?
      So much smaller than my memory –
      Disappearing before my eyes in fact,
      As she had managed to do my whole entire
      Life; darker – blond all gone –


      I know I’m taller now, but how could this tiny thing
      Have ever been a supermodel?
      Someone rattled at the door – Mirabel called –
      “We’re dressing!”
      Pulled me into giggle –
      “Leave it!”


      Covered my mouth signalling with her
      Humongous eyes –
      Crawling to the door she –
      Peeked out –
      Pulled in a
      Champagne bucket and a pair of flutes.


      “Grooms get in the WAY!”
      She laughed and toasted me.
      “But men! You know!”
      She gasped and gagged as if
      She’d never had such wine.
      I sipped sedately.


      Judgingly
      As I’d learned to do with grown-ups.
      Who was this Mirabel?
      The way she carved me
      With her eyes
      She must be real
      Yet something smelled
      Imposture.

      I just don’t know –
      I’m far too new –
      It’s far too weird.
      She leaned to touch my hair.
      “I always thought
      They should have named you
      Anne.”


      The door opened and Verne stood over us
      Looking down reprovingly.
      Mirabel blanched –
      I thought because she’d said
      He’s not to enter –
      But he was mild enough


      Laying dress bags along the bed
      Reproachfully
      As if to ask
      “How can you dress without dresses?”
      Then he was gone
      The door slightly left ajar.
      Mirabel clicked it closed with her foot.
      She called, “See you at dinner!”


      I felt sorry for poor Verne
      But when we heard the outer door click Mirabel rose
      and unzipped the bags.
      She topped off her glass with
      Vodka from a bottle by the bed.
      “It’s such bad champagne,” she excused,
      “In Europe, babies drink this stuff.”


      I studied the bottle –
      Beau Joie Brut Special Cuvée –
      A brute champagne.
      Tasted fine to me – like
      Sharpest winter air.


      Mirabel offered her bottle.
      “No thanks.”
      She drained her tulip glass.
      ”You’ve certainly changed,” she commented.
      Did I drink vodka at eight years old?
      I said, “So have you.”


      “I’m darker now. Verne wouldn’t look at blondes.”
      Too bad, I thought. I’d hoped she’d find a different type of guy.
      “Is he really a lord?”
      Maribel rolled her eyes.
      “Unfortunately.” At my surprise she added –
      “It always seems to mean you can’t do
      Anything you want.”


      She shrugged.
      “At least the restaurants like it.”
      “And you’ll be –“
      “Lady Verne.”
      She shrugged; unexcited
      By the prospect. Seemed
      The opposite of what
      Old Maribel would have thought.


      “So, you just met?”
      “Oh no, we’ve been together FOREVER –
      And only now we tie the knot. But you!”
      She spun me all around.
      “You’re so tall! And thin!”
      “I eat like a horse”
      I apologized


      I grow too fast – all my friends are vegan
      But I eat
      Everything –
      “I can’t seem to fast.”
      “Wait till after the wedding,”
      Said Maribel


      “Then just do a purge.
      “Think you’d fit a four?”
      The dress she pulled was pale gold,
      fairytale dress with endless puffy skirt.
      My gasp relaxed Mirabel’s face.
      She smiled.


      “I’m sure I could!”
      almost dropped my wineglass in
      my excitement to try it on.
      Stripped down to my unsightly sports bra
      And boy’s brief pants.


      “Can’t wear a bra with this one,” says Mirabel.
      “I’ll do you up.”
      She gazed too long –
      A man’s gaze I thought –
      I turned away.

    3. The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

      Chapter Two: @Valerian

      What does Mirabel look like now?


      When I turned ten


      I followed all her modeling pages
      But there’s been nothing for the past
      Three years.


      I was smart enough to know
      that airbrushed people
      don’t look like that in real life.
      Mirabel had been so gorgeous;


      those huge eyes and perfect Roman nose seemed to promise
      a matching depth of soul.
      We all want to believe that beautiful people
      Get everything they need from life;


      yet I remembered the Mirabel I’d known.
      She’d never come back to this family fold
      unless something had gone horribly wrong.
      As my train slid into the darkness of the Grand Central tunnel
      I texted the number I’d been given with “Train on time”


      followed by a happiness emoji. Then of course I wanted to delete it
      But wasn’t I – as the only bridesmaid –
      Obligated to act excited?
      I’d never done any of this before –
      It’s Brave New World to me.


      The response wasn’t from Mirabel at all but labelled
      @Valerian: “I’m meeting you. Mirabel otherwise occupied as usual.
      Look out for red hunting coat.”
      Who was Valerian? Where was Mirabel?
      Was this the fiancé who had her phone?
      If that was the deal from the beginning
      Mom and Dad would never let me come.


      Here’s Mirabel at her core – proficient
      In the art of “softening people up”
      Which never meant the truth.
      Dad says Mirabel always “plays the inside straight”
      Some disparaging poker term.


      As the train lurched to a stop I stood up and studied myself in the
      Mirrored windows. The girl “Valerian” would see
      Looked good enough in gray skirt with shiny thigh high patent
      leather boots and recently highlighted auburn hair. Nothing like
      Mirabel’s blond gorgeousness of course. But
      Out from beneath Mom’s thumb


      I’d added to my eye makeup – Mom frowns on false lashes –
      Because
      looking ready for my moment
      gives me hope.
      I hadn’t answered the text:
      Stranger Danger just too strong.
      I’d Uber myself – if I knew where I was going.
      But I wanted the chance to
      Look at him before he looked


      At me. That would work
      Unless
      He was the one who’d tried to
      Friend me –
      Meaning he’d seen all my pictures?
      Ugh.
      You want to be seen and yet somehow
      Not.


      We project ourselves into others’ eyes –
      I want to be seen in a certain way –
      Where I control reactions!
      Of course it makes no sense
      And that’s what diaries are for – endlessly
      Trying to reshape
      Cellphone diary fantasy. But
      There he was


      right by the escalators, standing out in his red coat.
      Mirabel would never descend to the tracks.
      A tall, distinguished looking man
      in his thirties probably, very thin –
      dark pants and a red down jacket.
      The closer I got the more
      Startlingly handsome was that weathered knife-planed face –


      Beneath dark glasses – he
      broke into smiles at the sight of me.
      No hope of escape –
      If I thought anything it was –
      “He’s better than I dreamed!”
      Made it easier forging some new
      Relation with my uncomfortably lost sister.
      He reached for my bag


      Kissed the top of my forehead
      Dry lips
      – tasting sweat and foundation.
      “Richenda?”
      English accent. “I
      Recognized you immediately.
      You look just like Mirabel. It’s the eyes.”


      I felt a gush of pleasure at
      Such baseless flattery –
      Wanted to argue
      “I am not!” but
      Zines do say we girls
      must learn accepting compliments.
      Sooner rather than never.
      “Er, thanks.”
      So ungraceful.


      “What happened to Mirabel?”
      “Unavoidably detained.”
      He swept both me and bag away from the escalator
      Down the platform.
      “We’ll take the elevator to the car service.”
      Actually, a limo.
      The driver rushed to take my
      pathetic flowered bag. Did the driver
      and this so far unintroduced man
      know each other – casually or
      permanent – hard to say.


      “You’re the fiancé?” I stuttered out.
      He seemed surprised.
      “Sorry,” he said, bundling me into the limo, “It’s
      Wedding nerves. I’m Philip Valerian. Everyone calls me Verne.”
      I couldn’t stop laughing.


      “Mom thought your name was Rupert Golden!”
      Verne didn’t find this amusing.
      “Some previous swain,” he huffed.
      Wedding nerves?
      Exactly right.
      He was jumpy,
      Fingers drumming on my knee.
      I was alone with
      @Valerian.

    4. The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

      Chapter 1 : Surprise Wedding

      I’m Richenda


      Fourteen and
      I used to be bored.
      Winter breaks were especially glacial


      Till just recently –


      Right before dinner
      Mom
      Put her head around my door :
      “You won’t believe what happened!”
      What could excite such
      A dull person?


      But I lacked comparisons because
      This never happened before.
      Slammed my book shut because –
      Geometry is paralyzing –
      And joined the
      Guessing game.


      “We won Powerball?”
      “Your sister’s coming home!
      To get married!”
      I hadn’t seen Mirabel –ten years older – in eight years.
      Truth to tell, I could barely remember her.
      A lifetime ago. “Why?”


      Mom – never invited in –
      Leaned against the
      INSIDE
      Of my door.
      “Make up for the past.”
      Is that even possible?
      Or does she want a free wedding?


      Mirabel was ALWAYS
      Always always always
      About the money.
      “So who’s she marrying?”
      “I think his name was something like Rupert Golden.”

      “I didn’t want to ask her to wait while I got a pen.
      She said she’d send details. You know how she hates
      Snooping.”
      Everyone hates snooping, I thought.


      Mirabel hates
      Accountability.
      Snooping can be fun
      If you’re the one doing it.
      Addictive.
      “Rupert Golden’s no real name,” was all I had
      To contribute.
      Mom gave me her
      “Like you’re the expert” face.


      But fourteen year olds DO
      Know everything.
      We just forget
      Distracted so easily.
      We’ll be a whole family again
      for the first time in – ages.”
      So she can leave us again, I thought.


      I knew.
      I’d always been
      Weirdly tuned from
      Mirabel
      “Murble”
      I called her
      When I learned to speak
      The dazzling goddess of my
      Dappled infancy.


      Parents are nonsensical.
      All they cared was that
      She was willing to pretend
      for whatever short period
      that things are copacetic at the family manse.


      Parents love pretending.
      “When’s this happening
      happening?’
      “Unsettled,” said Mom.
      “She wants your help to buy a dress.”
      “Me?”


      Up to that second I’d been a
      Peeper at
      The Family Drama.
      Did I want to participate?
      What choice did I have?


      “You’ll be her only bridesmaid so she wants your
      dresses to match,” said Mom,
      But slowly as if just realizing
      What stupidity she spoke.


      “You go up tomorrow night
      and the two of you come back Sunday.”
      How had she agreed to this?
      She still wasn’t happy.


      “Unless… perhaps I’d drive you?”
      “I’ve taken trains before,”
      I said, trying to keep the baby whine
      Out of my voice.
      “I’m fourteen years old!”
      “But it’s the city,” wailed Mom


      Panic flaring.
      “I’ve been to the city before, too,” I said.
      School field trips!!!
      Alone? First time for everything.


      “She said she’d meet the five o’clock train,”
      sighed Mom,
      Obviously wondering
      How had she agreed to this?
      I almost didn’t like it.


      So some strange woman
      Could call Mom up and
      Gain more freedom for me
      Than I’d ever managed?


      It’s a gift.
      Don’t criticize its teeth.
      “It won’t be dark yet,”
      I said blithely.


      “So is that where she’s living? In the city?”
      Rumors of international travel had reached us
      when Mirabel’s modeling cancelled.
      And all this time she’s
      Twenty miles away?


      Mom seemed so unhappy.
      “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
      “Maybe it’s Rupert’s place.
      I’ll be trusting your good sense.”


      She certainly can’t trust Mirabel,
      I thought. Someone in this family
      Needs to do some serious snooping.


      That night someone named
      Philip Valerian
      Tried friending me on Facebook.
      I turned him down
      Like a bedspread, I
      Don’t talk to strangers.

    5. Wild With Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

      Aug 15 – 66 – Aboard the Gryphon


      No Bad, no Good, no Up, no Down, No Wednesday or Friday except in The Mind of Man. Sitting on the deck reading Maurois’ Life of Balzac – Prometheus. As usual I am fruitlessly pursing interesting people through the indexes. I am so interested in people who just appear once and flash away. That’s history. I especially enjoy the tantalizing extracts from the diary of Melanie Princess Metternich! How I’d adore reading the whole thing! Makes me ashamed of this spastic notebook with its diaristic pretenses. How can I upgrade this rag? Mention as many names as possible and hope one of s vaults the bridge of death?


      Getting late. We left Sarnia headed for Tobermory and I have the nine to twelve watch so I have to stay awake. I should rush down now that I have a chance and freshen u, trying to make myself a ravishing beauty in case of passing tug. Dad keeps mouthing off about The Evils of the President – I say Johnson is just a Prisoner of his Age.


      Sat. Aug 20 – 66
      What a storm! I awoke to hear Daddy calling me – pulled on some foul weather gear and went on deck – seas foamy white and waves at least 17 feet – no lie! Daddy gave me the helm to hold hard over while he & Mom lowered the sails. I was freezing and wet and shivering in seconds. Dad tied the helm over and went below for just awhile. We were looking for the Cove Island Light and when we got there the natives were amazed that we had weathered that storm! (Battens flew out of the mainsail!)


      Daddy took us out to dinner at The Tub. We had porterhouse steaks! We stocked up on food, had the head repaired and then took off for Collins Inlet. After skirmishing with a couple of snakes (one a rattler! – the other a swimmer) I was happy to sunbathe nude on the beach while Mom & Dad explored the island. Saw 2 jackrabbits and a passel of beavers. Afterward we barbecued chicken and ate apple pie on the beach leaving me fatter and happier. I am writing this by flashlight while Mom and Dad yell at me to go to bed. (Apparently they don’t want to be mentioned in my index.) They are prisoners of convention.

      Sun. Aug 21 – 66
      Feeling oddly happy and calm in spite of the turbulence of my future. School? I can’t kid myself – in two months I will be bored & screaming. I don’t want to follow a life shaped by another’s hand. I want Alysse to be for Alysse. Wonder what that is in Latin – want to put it on my shield. My mother says I’m an egotist but I think I’m just normal.
      I believe in generosity and kindness and all that but living for others is death. I believe in calming and exploring the depths of your own waters. “Self-plumbing!” Inspired right now by Simone de Beauvoir’s Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter. (The “dutiful” is sarcastic.)


      Sep 12 – 66 – Brockton Ohio
      Back home. Sitting on the same old stone bench where I used to sit and look out at the Same Old Woods but things are inexplicably different. Bloy is back from Choate – much handsomer – blonde goatee and all. He is very envious of me for going to a double sex school and asks a lot about it. He is taller and handsomer but he doesn’t seem to notice it – in fact has acquired a stammer that makes my heart go out to him. Is the Boy Next Door a Possible? I don’t know.


      Tues Sept 20 – 66
      Back at horrible old Plumly. Already so restless that I want to leave. Had to break up with poor old Blair – he kept holding my hand, waiting for me after meals and telling me things I’ve heard before. It got so I wanted to duck behind a pillar whenever I saw him. Reputation for heartlessness into overdrive but I can’t help it. Not heartless merely ornery. Just can’t cope with this “ownership” stuff.
      Reading The Hepburn which is WAY too sexy and not helping my mood. Dizzified with lust. I’d go for a Hepburn but I can’t find any.


      “Give me the earth, give me the sky – Stone, not sand on which to lie.”
      Writing a parody of The Last of the Wine – “The Last of the Alphabet Soup”. Takes place at Plumly in the far distant future and reveals a sexual disintegration of the nth degree. Of course I am the heroine – named “Shalott” but pronounced “P-chot”. Better get to it. Whether Mr. Bernard will find it funny or not I can’t say.


      Sept 25 – 66
      I’ve got to stop reading like this. Evelyn Waugh did not write Vile Bodies to motivate Christian schoolgirls to do their homework and get into a “nice” college. Further disturbance created by the fact that the person I identify with in his work always gets killed. First Prudence, then Agatha. I think he just hates women.


      Hard to concentrate there are so many record players going on this floor. Open any door and the inside looks like a Pepsi commercial. It’s Barbra Streisand vs. the Fugs, the Turtles battling it out with the Lettermen and Beach Boys neck and neck with Bob Dylan.


      Thurs Sept 29 – 66
      Everyone in love with new speech coach except me. I spread my dragnet instead for Doug Bristow from Kenya who has one gold and one blue eye! (And a crazy laugh!) Unfortunately he’s dating someone else and my roomie Aynsley says Marnie never dates longer than a month because she’s too possessive. (Hope!) I asked the Ouija board when he would ask me out and it said Oct 2 but doubt he can move that fast. Blair keeps KOBing me: “You are an elusive problem. I want to ask you out for Fri but I’m afraid you won’t go you seem so noncommittal.” He is a slow boy to get the point.


      Classes grim. In history Mr. Beedwell keeps telling me not to speak in wide terms. Unfortunately I THINK in wide terms. Synthesis and analogy are my arts. In public speaking I burst into tears Mr. Thornton is so mean. Very humiliating for a future actress.


      On top of all this I’ve been elected Vice-President of the Junior class! Girls are not allowed to be president – it would upset the boys and we know they’re so fragile. (That’s why they’re out every day on the Golden Fields of Autumn trying to kill each other.) President is Shawn Kobler.

    6. Woman Into Wolf: the play

      Act 1, Scene 1
      (THE SCENE: A house on the right edge of a large forest; a wild party is in progress. Raucous music, biker iconography, party guests hang out windows.)


      ( Enter
      ROY & PERSEY step out of a car stage left – she is carrying a hugely glittering wrapped package. DIGGER – the Dog leans after them out the window, panting in doggy fashion.)


      PERSEY
      (Hanging back unwillingly as ROY pulls her forward)
      I can’t relish parties; I hate
      Noise and senseless jiving.
      I love silence, long for wilderness to
      Settle my unquiet soul.


      ROY
      (Panting in anticipation of the party)
      My wilderness is inside;
      Sometimes darlin’ you gotta
      Play fast, stay loose –
      Forget the day, lose the night
      It’s gonna come out
      We’re gonna
      Gotta eat the world.
      (We can see the party guests at right lift JAROD up, tossing him)


      PARTY GUESTS
      (Sing Off Key)
      For He’s a jolly good Cocksman!
      For he’s a jolly good Cocksman!
      Which nobody can deny!


      ROY
      (Happily joins in)
      Yeah, buddy! You’ll get
      What’s coming –
      Trust your best bro
      Who knows all the secrets:
      Where the bodies are buried;
      Bros forever.
      (PERSEY pulls away)


      PERSEY
      I thought I was your bestie.


      ROY
      You’ll always be my main squeeze,
      Porkchop.
      (Enter Hostess STORMEE in barely-there dress, rushing out to take their gift)


      STORMEE
      Don’t tease if
      You can’t perform.

      ROY
      Sorry we’re late –
      Persey’s a party pooper
      Taking forever
      To make herself beautiful.


      PERSEY
      You made me try on every dress!


      ROY
      And ain’t you edible?


      PERSEY
      What I put on, you remove.


      ROY
      No one can resist you, sugar.


      STORMEE
      Let her go if
      She wants to be alone.
      Persey hates our games.


      ROY
      Poor Persey
      Always wandering –


      PERSEY
      I’m never lost and I
      Adore solitude.

      ROY
      (snarling)
      With that damn dog.
      (DIGGER barks enthusiastically from car – PERSEY kisses her fingers to him)


      PERSEY
      We are explorers.
      (ROY puts his hands all over her)


      ROY
      I could undress you right now.


      PERSEY
      (backing him off)
      Group gropes aren’t for me.


      ROY
      (Bragging)
      Guess I’m tagged by
      A one-man woman!


      PERSEY
      Since high school…
      (ROY & PERSEY embrace.)


      STORMEE
      (Pulling on ROY)
      Now you’re here
      The games begin –
      Cops and robbers
      Rapist and victims
      Monsters and mobsters. You decide.


      PARTY GUESTS
      (Calling)
      Multiple nightmares
      Replenish youth to
      Scarify death –
      We’re off the leash, so
      Plunder our fantasy.


      ROY
      Long as I’m boss.


      STORMEE
      But on Jarod’s birthday –
      You only ride shotgun.


      PERSEY
      Enjoy yourself darling; but don’t
      Let them change you.


      ROY
      Who can love wilderness
      (Hands all over her)
      Without becoming wild?

      (ROY & PERSEY kiss)


      STORMEE
      (Shakes the gift package)
      Is this still alive?
      Toys disappoint but
      Playmates never.


      ROY
      It’s rechargeable.
      (STORMEE laughs loudly, dismisses PERSEY; Challenging, insulting)


      STORMEE
      Go home, little girl –
      While you own your skin.


      PERSEY
      (Turns to go; waves bye-bye)


      You take the car
      I love to walk home.


      ROY
      Not in that dress!


      PERSEY
      Digger protects me.
      (Takes one last kiss)


      ROY
      Light demands darkness so you get home fast.

      (They pull apart. ROY turns to his gang)


      ROY
      (Calling)
      Hey, buddy!


      JAROD
      (Passing DIGGER who snarls and snaps at him, tries to get out of the car)
      It’s a wild night shaping and
      No holds barred.


      ROY
      Nothing but the best for the fixer
      Who covers my back.
      (They embrace, STORMEE who puts the package on her head forms a conga line with the PARTY GUESTS – they dance sinuously)


      PARTY GUESTS
      Kick dirt in death’s face!
      Birthday’s our free pass
      We begin every year.


      ROY
      Meaner and crazier –


      JAROD
      Freer and brazener –


      ROY
      Doin’ death down!

      (ROY hands box to JAROD opens the box; a huge sex doll inflates and springs out, shimmering wildly. Laughter.)


      JAROD
      Guy with the most toys
      Rules the lost boys!


      PERSEY
      (Backing away)
      Happy Birthday, Jarod.


      JAROD
      (Dancing)
      You only wander to
      Find what you lost.
      Don’t be exclusive –
      Keeping elusive –


      STORMEE
      Sucks to be you, fraidy-cat.


      JAROD
      (Grabs Stormee)
      Girls who are squealin’
      Are always appealin’ –


      ROY
      (Grabs Stormee too)
      Saying No when they really mean Yes.

      STORMEE
      I’ll even die twice!


      PERSEY
      (Lets DIGGER out)
      Goodbye to your fun.
      (She pulls DIGGER away from JAROD)


      ROY
      You stay out of those woods, Persey!
      Terror stalks pretty girls!


      JAROD
      There’s wolves in those woods and
      Forests of corpses.


      STORMEE
      Wolves who need bad girls,
      Spirits of mad girls –


      ROY
      Killers and bandits
      Monsters and mad men –


      JAROD
      Scary and bad men –
      Roaming the woods!


      PERSEY
      (Playing with DIGGER who bounds wildly)
      But I’ve got a protector
      A hero, a savior –


      STORMEE
      A flea-ridden dirt-bag!
      (DIGGER tries to hump STORMEE’s leg – PERSEY drags him away)


      ROY
      You got your phone, hon?
      (Showing his phone – he’s instantly distracted by the screen – JAROD redirects him)


      PERSEY
      You are my heart, Roy. I’ll stay in touch.


      JAROD
      (Sneering)
      Bell that cat, Roy.


      STORMEE
      (dancing with ROY)
      Reality show time
      Put up and go time
      Never say “no” time –


      ROY
      Don’t wait up!


      (ROY, JAROD, STORMEE & PARTY GUESTS swallowed up by the house.)

    7. Caving: a comedy

      The End!

      (SCENE 8. Lights up on our sleeping couple. BO and VAYRE emerge from the other side of the stage.)

      BO
      There they are!
      (HEDJ sits up but does not rise)

      HEDJ
      Finally!

      BO
      Yeah, I see how hard you were looking for us!

      HEDJ
      Buddy, I got swept away by a RIVER of SLIME! What’s your excuse?

      REV
      (Opening her eyes sleepily)

      I can’t believe dream telepathy actually works!

      (Noting the rope)

      How come you two are all tied up?

      BO
      So we wouldn’t get separated!

      (Strikes his forehead)

          Boom! You’re welcome!

      REV
      Wow! How romantic!

      HEDJ
      Seriously we DREAMED you into finding us. Boom!

      (Strikes his forehead)

      You’re welcome!

      (The two men square off)

      BO
      While you were DREAMING we were searching! Guess which takes more effort?

          HEDJ

      It’s work SMARTER, not HARDER!

      VAYRE
      Well, WE fell into a pile of bat carcasses!

      BO
      I rescued her!

      REV
      Disgusting? Or romantic? Why are those two so often the same?

      VAYRE
      What got you so sleepy all of a sudden?

      REV
      Rescuing HIS sorry ass from the river of slime!

      HEDJ
      (Jovially)

      I lost everything!

      (REV & HEDJ hug)

      BO
      Way to go!

      (He & HEDJ high five while the girls roll their eyes)

      VAYRE

      We’ll never get out of now. We just keep getting deeper. It’s hopeless.

      (This makes HEDJ scramble to his feet)

      HEDJ
      I bet you weren’t even searching for us! You were just trying to get out. Some friend you are. What happened to the Bro Code?

      BO
      Think I should have jumped in for a swim, like you did? I had a beautiful girl to look after!

      REV
      Wow. This guy’s special!

          VAYRE

      Isn’t he? He’s a keeper!

      HEDJ
      LUCKILY my brain is more powerful than yours!

      (The men look like they might fight.)

      VAYRE
      Guys, stop it. Everyone found everyone and now we have to find a way out. Four brains are better than one.

      HEDJ
      We could look for a shortcut.

                                                BO
                 And BACK to the stupid ideas!

                                          VAYRE
                  This better not be another digging scenario.

                                          HEDJ
                   No, smart thinking, not hard thinking.

      (Taps his forehead)

                         We need to look for  a wormhole.  

                                        BO

                  You are kidding me!

                                         REV

      No, seriously, listen to him! He brought you here by MENTAL TELEPATHY! I didn’t think it would work either!

                                              VAYRE
                   Like a wormhole with WORMS?

                                        HEDJ
                   No. Quantum tunneling! 

            REV
    Quantum tunneling? Is that a thing?

            VAYRE

    Like an energy path to another dimension.

                                         BO
                   Science fiction!

                                        REV
                    But I liked the old dimension!

                                        VAYRE
                    Did you?  Did you REALLY?

                                       VAYRE

      (Holding BO’s hand)
      Until I had Bo.

                                              REV
        Nobody ever “has” ANYBODY!

      (HEDJ holds up REV’s hand)

          HEDJ

      But you and I have each other! So, see? We’re in another dimension already!

           BO

      Any way out is a way out that WORKS is all right with me. The proof is in the pizza.

          VAYRE

      Tacos.

          BO

      Whatever.

      REV
      How do you find a wormhole? How do you even recognize one?

      HEDJ
      They’re reflective, like one of those mirrored balls. It’s a curve.

      BO
      Oh, for Christ’s sake!

      REV
      It sounds CRAZY!

      HEDJ
      Hey, I studied physics! I’m not making this stuff up – some guy at Caltech discovered it. What’s the point of a million dollar education if you never use what you learn?

      VAYRE
      It just sounds so impossible.

      BO
      If they exist, how come I’ve never seen one?

      REV
      How do you know you haven’t? You probably thought it was a garden ball!

      HEDJ
      They can’t exist where people congregate, otherwise it would already have been discovered. You have to look for a wormhole where no one has ever been. This is the perfect place!

      REV
      So what are we supposed to do when we see one?

      HEDJ
      Jump in!

      BO
      Says the man who JUMPED into a RIVER of SLIME!

      REV
      But wouldn’t we be like – destroyed? Blasted apart?

      HEDJ
      No. The curved, reflecting properties keep the energy stable. You wouldn’t want a wormhole that DOESN’T look like a garden ball.

      VAYRE
      But where do they go?

      HEDJ
      Anywhere. Forward, the past, different worlds – who knows?

      REV
      But if they are stable theoretically that means we COULD return.
      I mean, if we wanted to.

      HEDJ
      Sure. Why not?

      BO
      That’s if we WANTED to.

      VAYRE
      We could return prepared! Like with better equipment! I don’t know about you but I’ve never been prepared. For anything.

      REV
      Equipment would be nice. ANY equipment would be nice.

      VAYRE
      I don’t want to go back into the past before fake nails or dishwashers.

      REV
      Or birth control or dentists.

      BO
      Don’t worry about that. Time travel CAN’T happen!

      HEDJ
      And why’s that?

      BO
      Because of the grandmother paradox! Because you’d mess up your own birth, that’s why!

      REV
      (Separating them)

      Let’s agree that nothing that CAN’T happen will happen! OK? You’re officially arguing about NOTHING.

      HEDJ
      Guess I’m a born lawyer, too!

      VAYRE

      (Shining her light upwards)

      If it would reflect a face, wouldn’t it reflect light?

      BO
      I guess it would have to.

      REV
      But how can we see everywhere?

      HEDJ
      We can see everywhere because there are four of us! It’s like the magic number!

      VAYRE
      Got it!

      (They link arms backwards, leaning out)

      HEDJ
      Rev, shine your light up there.

      REV
      I think I see something.

      VAYRE
      But it’s too far up.

      HEDJ
      We’ll have to investigate. Rev’s good with a lasso.

      REV
      Thanks but there’s nothing up there to hold onto.

      BO
      We could climb if we all work together.

      VAYRE
      Let’s make a pyramid!

      (They mimic climbing, building a series of yearning, reaching pyramids with each getting a chance for the top and seeming to haul the next up after)

      BO
      Hold my hand!

      VAYRE
      I think I see something!

      HEDJ
      Grab on!

      REV
      Here we go!

      BO
      Oh, my God what’s that?

      (Breathing heavily they drop to their knees in a tight knot looking out at the audience. Lights in the theatre suddenly go up and the four gasp with astonishment, vault joyously to their feet)

      ALL TOGETHER
      Wow!

      LIGHTS.

      END

    8. Caving: a comedy

      (SCENE 7: Lights out on them and up on BO who has made it to the stage where he finds the rope tied to a rock.)

      BO
      Vayre? Vayre? Oh, my God, Wendy where are you?

      (He falls backwards. She appears around the rock adjusting her pants.)

      VAYRE
      No need to shriek like a little girl.

      BO
      You almost gave me a heart attack! I thought I was alone down here! What’s with this?

      (Shakes the rope)

      This wasn’t part of our deal!

      VAYRE
      Keep your shirt on! I had to take a pee!

      BO
      You can pee with a rope tied to your waist!

      VAYRE
      Who elected you the God of pee?

      BO
      And I was risking my life FOR YOU among the bat carcasses!

      VAYRE
      I warned you never to say that word!

      (BO produces the program and hands it to her.)

      BO
      (Starts untying the rope from the rock)
      I fulfilled MY part of our bargain. Now you put this right back on!

      VAYRE
      What for? We’re standing six inches apart!

      BO
      So we NEVER get separated again! Don’t you see, it’s a miracle you found your way back! Down here that’s no joke! We’re DEAD if we don’t get out together.

      VAYRE
      I was right over there! I wasn’t getting lost. No one sets out to get lost. Hmmm. Let me guess: you’re the child of divorce.

      BO
      Who isn’t? I thought all marriages immediately expired after fifteen years.

      VAYRE
      Seven years in MY parents’ case. But mine isn’t going to.

      BO
      But how can you stop it? Seems everyone just goes crazy after a set period of time. We have different set points is all.

      VAYRE
      But can’t a couple like, evolve together?

      BO
      (Finding this sexy)
      Into what…a new species?

      VAYRE
      (Ditching the program)

      This isn’t it! You’ve lost my map! Now we have to operate on theory alone.

      BO
      Sounds dangerous. Which theory are you using?

          VAYRE

      Unified field? If we’re acting like waves and they’re acting like
      particles then –

          BO

      I operate on Meeny-Miny-Mo theory. YOU lost it. So it’s your turn to go search.

      (Begins tying the rope to her waist)

          If I tug three times…

      VAYRE
      (Gulping)
      You know I can’t do that! What about the bat carcasses?

      BO
      Then we’ll go together. We’ll trust our instincts. We’ll…evolve.

      (He passes a loop of rope around her drawing her closer to him.)

      VAYRE
      You now, it’s funny. I’m not scared when you’re here.

      BO
      (Looking down realizes they are securely bound together)

           Then I suggest we make camp.

      VAYRE
      Make camp! With a half bottle of Gatorade and a power bar?

      BO
      Sure! Wait for THEM to find US.

      (She throws a loop of rope around him)

      VAYRE
      Help, help.

      (Not like she means it.)

      How long do we wait?

      BO
As long as it takes, Wendy Vayre.

      (They are securely bound hip to hip. Tentative kisses.)

      VAYRE
      Let’s hope it takes forever, Darcy.


      (More kisses)

      I’m a little concerned about your friend.

      BO
      MY friend? Not your friend?

      VAYRE
      If Rev finds your friend she’s probably strangling him right now.

      BO
      Why? Is she a mean girl?

      VAYRE
      She’s mad at you guys over this whole caving thing. She doesn’t like that many people and she’d HATE you.

      (Throws her arms around his neck.)

      BO
      What’s so hate-worthy about me?

      VAYRE
      That this bad, bad date was your idea.

      BO
      I’m a bad date, am I?

      (They start kissing passionately.)

      VAYRE
      You have your good side. But seriously! This is the worst!

      BO
      Worst place you’ve ever hooked up? Seriously?

      VAYRE
      Who says we’re hooking up?

      BO
      Right. No hookups. We’re…evolving. That’s how I interpret it.

      VAYRE
      Interpretations aren’t reality. What if we never see each other again?

      BO
      Fat chance of that when we’re entangled!

      VAYRE
      Listen buddy, I can imagine the future.

      BO
      Well, stop it. People get into a lot of trouble over that. You’re a prophet now?

      VAYRE
      Yeah. And I’m usually right.

      BO
      I’m ready to be surprised.

      (Thinks)

      Unless you decide you never want to see me again.

      VAYRE
      That depends.

      BO
      It DEPENDS? On what? On how we evolve?

      VAYRE
      On how good you are at getting us out of here. I mean, are you just a handsome dolt, or what?

                                                 BO

      (Very gratified)
      You think I’m handsome?

                                                 VAYRE

      (Running her hands up and down his arms)

                    I think you’re very good looking.

                                           BO
             You should have seen me in high school!   I had a serious case of pizza face.  

                                            VAYRE
              Everyone’s hopeless in high school. I was flat as a board.

                                            BO
             You? Flat?

      (He tests it out)
      VAYRE
      As a BOARD.

      (More kissing)

                 I warn you, my standards are high. Don’t start anything you can’t finish.

                                            BO

      You can afford to have high standards. But you’re lucky with me. I’m a finisher.

                                                  VAYRE
            You are?

                                            BO
             Big time. You know I‘m the first in my family to go to this college?

                                            VAYRE
               I’m impressed.

                                            BO
    That’s why I’m determined to be a doctor. Unless they kick me out first.

                                           VAYRE
                They wouldn’t do that.

                                            BO
               Grades, money. They’re always on my case.

                                           VAYRE
               Why’s that?

                                            BO
               I do finally get there but…I’m slow.

                                           VAYRE

      That’s not a bad thing. I like a guy who paces himself. You don’t know how to talk to them, probably. Bureaucratese is a who separate language.

                                                  BO
               Ain’t that the truth! The dean keeps sending me these emails and –

                                             VAYRE
              You ignore them, am I right?

                                             BO
               I can never make up my mind what they want me to say.

                                             VAYRE

      I’ll tell you what to say. When they pull that on you, go plant yourself in his office, shake the emails at them and demand, “How is this happening?”

                                                   BO

      I can’t see me doing that. I get tongue tied. I can see YOU doing it. I can see you winning at it, too!

                                                 VAYRE
            You don’t win UNLESS you do it.

                                           BO
             Yeah, well I’m not a pretty girl.  Pretty girls get whatever they want.

                                          VAYRE
             You think I’m pretty? My Mom says my nose is too big.

                                           BO
             She’s jealous. Tell her she can’t talk to you like that.

                                          VAYRE

      I can’t see ME telling her that, but I can see you doing it! And getting away with it!

                                                  BO
              I’d tell her in a heartbeat.

                                           VAYRE

      Here’s an idea: you go with me to Thanksgiving and I’ll go with you to the dean’s office. Deal?

                                                BO
             Deal and done!

                                         VAYRE
             That’s if we ever get out of here. 

                                         BO

      Oh, we’re getting out of here! We’ll get out here if I have to dig a path to the surface!

                                             VAYRE
               My lucky day when I found you!!

                                       BO

      (Unwrapping rope)

                      Let’s start now!


                                           VAYRE
                But what about our friends?  We have to find them!

                                             BO

      Maybe they’re already out of here. Why should we rescue them if they wouldn’t rescue us!

                                                  VAYRE
                We would have seen them!

                                            BO
                 Maybe they don’t want to be interrupted.

                                           VAYRE
                Believe me, my friend wants to be “interrupted”.                     

                                           BO
                 Is your friend a good wrestler?

                                          VAYRE
                 What do you want to know THAT for?

                                          BO

      Because Hedj is not as strong as he looks. I can take him. His only advantage is surprise.

                                               VAYRE

      Rev is a champion kickboxer. She’s never surprised. She always expects THE WORST.

      (She feels his muscles appreciatively)

                                               BO

      Then she’ll be fine. Seriously, it’s time to get out of here. It’s all you can eat taco night.

                                              VAYRE
                 Crispy or soft?

                                        BO
                 Crispy all the way. Those things are like giant Doritos.

                                        VAYRE
                 Let’s agree to disagree. We’re finding our friends.

      (They try to step apart but…)

                                             VAYRE
                 Guess you’ll have to untie me.

                                      BO
                  I might loosen your bonds a little.

                                VAYRE
                  Just a little.

      (Another passionate makeout session)

                                      BO
                 Now my brain’s in a tailspin.

                               VAYRE
                  What’s back that way?

                              BO
                  The world?

                               VAYRE
                   All you can eat tacos.

                               BO
                   Civilization! And back that way?

            VAYRE
                   Cold, dark emptiness.

                                     BO
                   We’ve been wrong before.

                                        VAYRE
                 But if we can’t trust our instincts, what have we got?

                                        BO
                Cold dark you-know-what. Let’s go!

      (Roped together, they wander off.)