Invisible Man

How brightly shines the moon. Albedo 0.39. How faintly calls one voice. 3.1415926. What goes before me draws a line. x-squared plus y-squared equals z-squared. Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, all history becomes subjective, the sanitary and mechanical age we are now entering makes up for the mercy it grants, and it's always easier to apologize for something you've already done than to get approval for it in advance?

Like the bad-almighty-car-audio-blasting, an orchestral overture in disguise.

Like any nonsense at 2:00 a.m. in the morning, taking the time change into account here in this domesticated patch of woods in northern Alabama.

The stage is set before me. But I, alert to no quaint sound, tinnitus beating a constant rhythm on the eardrum on my mind, had thought that sleep would wind its tentacles around my floating thoughts and pull me under. I discerned no prologue, epilogue, catalogue or Yule log signifying the actors' entrance.

They performed anyway, their opening lines lost for eternity. 'Twas my wife who opened the sash and pushed us into Act Uno.

"Forthwith, my good fellow. I say. I am a teenager in years but I believe you've accused me of stepping out of my youth."

"'Tis true. Indeed. You look the part, clumsy in height and loose of foot. My word. Have you gone to the mad hatter for a fitting again?"

"You dare say these words, here on this spot?! Madness in King George (whether he be the III, the H or the W...I pause here for laughter, as you can see), hath never seen such sanity! Put up your dukes! Or if you have none, then your barons will do."

"Barren? Or burren? Perhaps it's your Irish roots that show this time. 'Tis time we draw guns and make our point with haste, not swords."

"I see you running away. Come back here, you cad. I may not shoot pictures but I'll shoot you just the same. Or me, if bullets mind their master's true intent."

[Exit the two players south, let Mohawk Indians point the way]

DRAMATIC PAUSE while moon polishes the landscape, pushing dusty shadows around

[Enter four players, going north with Mohawk spirits again]

"Ahahaha! That was fun. Let's do this again."

"And where shall we spend our wasted teenage energy this time?"

"Wasted? Has not this performance bested the last? Have we not ripped open the envelope and spilled the white powder for the soft shoe dancer?"

"But will we remember this as one of the best times of our lives?"

"Memories. Is that what we're doing here? We are invincible. Time has no meaning to us. Moments do not exist. We are pure experience. We will never know because we cannot remember and thus will not forget. Therefore..."

"Remind me to keep her away from the goods again, will you?"

"Shh... he's here. The one with the horseless carriage that roars. Quick. To the domain we go!"

[The four faceless horseless riders skip out of sight]