synopsis of a seventeen second play

A reflection is almost always false. Remember that next time you think it’s a good idea to hang a mirror on the wall. But never mind about props. On with the play for today. I’m doing the lighting. No, wait. I’m the leading man! I’m a researcher searching for secrets in the archives. If you read them, you will find them. The secrets, that is. In the archives. Perhaps. They are secrets, after all, so it’s not like they’re just out in the open.

In the second act, I guestate in your house for a while, but as I was never actually invited I eventually fade into the wallpaper. Why does that always happen to me. Like when I attend office baby showers. What is the point. When will I learn to politely decline. At least the fruit was fresh. At least that was the case. I took full advantage. And then I left. Three delicious strawberries later. Retreat!

Since I’m also writing this play while acting in it I get to decide what the the final sound of the final act will be just as I make it. And it is this. A tree falling alone in a forest. Wait, I can’t replicate that. Sooo…yeah, guess you’re gonna need to make up your own sound, after all, in your head, man. Is it the same sound when you’re around or not? Is it. Is it the same sound. How should I know. This is not a philosophy lesson; it’s a play.

In the epilogue, I talk about how the letter ‘M‘ has held significance for me throughout my life. Ooh, sounds intriguing, huh? Well, you’re not going to get to read it because I wrote that part at night sans lumière and so it’s illegible. Too bad for you. So are my seventeen seconds up or what? Yes? Okay, close curtain.

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3 Comments

  1. chronic and sardonic.

    Reply
  2. the drowning man guestates amidst all the grey cats in the holy hour sans lumière, only the sounds of charlotte sometimes

    Reply

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