A Dialog
“I hereby call this Conference to order. This is the meeting in which we collectively recount the life of our semi-reclusive Benefactor from May the Twentieth, in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Eighteen to May the 27th, of the same week, year, century, millennium, etcetera, etcetera,” said Mr. 19.
“This is a waste of time,” muttered H.B. “Like someone trying to bail water on the Titanic. It’s all gonna end in tears.”
"Well, of course, it isn't, H.B. You're so dour and pessimistic. Why can’t you simply enjoy the company and play along!”
“Ok, Mrs. C. I’ll try. The refreshments look good. Coffee, donuts, pizza.”
“Don’t touch them! They could be poisoned!” said Mrs. C.
“Most foul poison! How dare it be brought to
this our safe table.” Bardish paused dramatically. “What dost evil do?”
He spun about and started yelling.
“Stop Omni, please. These dialog tags are
so ruinous to real dramatic art.”
“Never, Bardish. The record must be clear. A reader must be able to follow along with who is talking and what they mean and the actions they take."
“You talk too much. My acting needs no base
contextualizing. So bugger off!”
“Bah. You never consider the reader’s need for comprehension.”
“That is true.”*
“Oh don’t you start now,” said Nick. “You’ll start hogging all the attention, and no one will focus on anything anyone else does, even if the main action is only a distraction from the thematic—“
“Yes, yes, yes, we all know why you would feel that way,” said Mr. 19. “We must come to order. I know many of you are surprised you are here and aren't quite sure what to expect, but there is a real trouble with our Benefactor. He's getting a bit… well…bonkers.”
“Whispering in the streets
Answering questions unasked
Speaking in riddles
Thinking in circles.”
“Yes, Thank you, Homeric, I certainly appreciate it.”
“THE DOOM WILL COME FROM—”
“Oh, do shut up!” said Mrs. C.
“This is turning into one of those things that you see on TV. The things that never happen to you. The thing you never want to happen to you,” said Holden.
“You got that right.”**
“Cut it out, both of you, before I tell you something that will shock you to your core and make you question everything that’s come before!”
“Oh, Roger! Glad you could make it,” said Mr. Mirror.
“Thanks so much for that,” said Mr. 19. “Now…erm… where was I?”
“You were about to sum up our current situation because it is incredibly vital that we settle the nerves of our Benefactor, the poor dear.”
“Ah, Mrs. Fancyduck, you are ever so helpful. Now we must get to business. We all understand that our Benefactor has been having a difficult time while we are all working together pulling his attention. It’s no good, so we have decided—”
“Who’s we?” said Cy.
“Must we do this again, sister,” said Tassy.
“Yes! I have many questions about this whole process and demand hard answers.”
“You worry too much,” said Tassy.
“You don’t worry enough!”
“Breaking news from the control room,” said the New Guy. “I have a letter from Mssr. G!”
“There’s a control room!?!?”
“Hush, Cy!" said Mr. 19. "Fine! Give me the bothersome fool’s letter. Ahem!
“‘Dearest Compatriots,
“‘I know this meeting was convened without my consultation, yet I do not take offense. I believe it is vital that this be decided. As you are employed in this conference, I am here to direct and witness our Benefactor’s dreams. The horrors and carnality of his mind are at my fingers. By this time Mr. 19 has surely wrangled you all and explained things—’”
“How the bloody hell did he — damn him! — ”
“‘And with that interruption out of the way, we must come to the agreement that we should hold back more. We must only be present in appropriate and significant moments. We must let our Benefactor breathe.
"‘No longer should we converge en mass on each moment, all our voices combining into a cacophonous drone. However, in this spirit, we must share information, and thus, as he slumbers, at least once weekly we shall confer. Exchange perspectives. Relate. The power of story shared between us, its hope and cruel fortunes, shall illuminate what truth is available.
"‘Sincerely and with the dearest respect,
“‘Monsieur G.’”
“Oh,” said Cy. “I get it now. Was that so hard?”
“I guess it does make a bit more sense to have it laid out,” said Tassy.
“Shall we call a vote?” said Mrs. C.
“Why are so many of you British?” said H.B.
"All who agree to this newest way of recounting the life of our Benefactor say ‘Aye'" said Nick.
“Aye, said all present save for Mr. 19 who stood at the head of the table looking conflicted.”
“Shut up, Omni!”
“Sorry.”
“Since the motion has carried I feel we should now recount the story so far, as it were.”
“But that’s 34 years,” said H.B.
“And I only just got here,” said the New Guy. “Who’s been here the longest?”
“And that is the problem,” said Mr. 19. “The longest resident is Beetee.”
“Oh dear.”***
“Isn’t that her?” said the New Guy.
“No, that’s Mrs. Fancyduck,” said Nick.
“I’m very different,” said Mrs. Fancyduck.
“What’s the big deal? Beetee’s great,” said H.B.
“He’s a bit long-winded,” said Mr. 19.
“And waking him up most definitely isn’t great,” said Omniscient.
“Oh, I found a letter from Mssr. G. taped under the table,” said Mrs. C.
“‘Dear Compatriots,
“‘Perhaps we should reconsider?’”
“‘Yours obsessively,’”
“‘Monsieur G.’”
"No, we will not reconsider. BeeTee! Wake up!"
"What! Huh? Where am I? Wow, there seem to be more of you here than there were before.
“That happens apparently,” said Cy.
“Oh does it? That’s fun. What’s happening? What are we doing?”
“Somebody catch him up,” said Mr. 19.
“You already know what we need,” said Mr. Mirror.
“Oh… I do. Well, that is a little unsettling. Effective but — uncomfortable. Well, so, the story so far….
“Once upon a time — ”
“Oh here we go,” said Omni.
“There was a boy. This boy lived at the edge of the woods in a very small town, but his bedroom faced the street. Every night he went to sleep looking at it. But this was a loud bedroom and he did not like it because of that. So, when he was older he slept in a basement, by choice because it was nice and cool there and mostly quiet. With the exception of the frogs. And snakes. And other reptiles. Those were terrifying. So then, he moved to a tower. And he stayed there until a maiden of great bravery, pure heart, and prodigious organization, saved him.
“And that’s about it.”
“Skipped over some stuff there,” said Mrs. C.
“I don’t remember a tower,” said Holden.
"He can be a bit too allegorical,” said Mrs. Fancyduck.
“Oh?”****
“It’s good enough!” said Mr. 19. “Nothing good ever comes from dissecting a fairy tale. Well… with that out of the way anything of note to discuss?”
“It was already covered last week,” said the New Guy.
“He looked at Facebook a lot,” said Holden. “And he overthought whether or not to buy bran flakes.”
“He got much closer to perfecting sourdough, through meticulous trial and error,” said Cy with pride.
“Well, alright then, I suppose that’s good enough for now. Did anyone have new business?”
“This is a bit long,” said The New Guy. “Could we perhaps be shorter next time?”
“But we haven’t really covered where this room is,” said Cy.
“A good many of us haven’t even talked!” said Nick.
“Oh, look at that, I found another letter behind a brick. It’s from Mssr. G.!” said Mrs. C.
"There are bricks in here?" said Cy.
“On the mantelpiece,” said Mrs. C.
“A mantelpiece!”
“‘Dear Compatriots,’”
“‘He’s waking up. Please send help. I fear I cannot handle this alone.’”
“‘Yours in ever-encroaching panic,’”
“‘Monsieur G.’”
“Quick! Holden! To the control room!”
“Ugh, I don’t wanna!”
“I’ll do it then.”*****
Footnotes:
*As a rule, Bardish and Omni got on each other’s nerves a lot. They’re both good in their own right, but they have completely opposed priorities. It’s often why we never let them in the same room, but we had little choice. This meeting had been called to order.
** It’s hard to not agree with the things that Holden says. It’s just straight honesty. I can’t imagine anyone really wants to be stuck in the room when a meeting degrades into impossible to follow shouting. It makes people uncomfortable. Almost everyone would hate to actually be in that room. Even if people say they do, they only mean it metaphorically or figuratively.
*** The thing to remember about BeeTee is this: though he has a long memory, it’s all jumbled. Things are in the wrong place. Some things just don’t make sense even in the loosest terms. Real moments are half-remembered and folded into dreams.
****Can you believe her? Calling someone else “too allegorical.” That’s worse than a pot calling a kettle black. That’s like a slice of burnt toast calling an equally burnt slice of toast, “a bit too ashy for my taste.”
*****I might as well just take on the wake up duties permanently. I like mornings and well, let’s face it; I’ll always ultimately get the last word. The conference will return, and we will address those important questions some of the others brought up. I’m not entirely sure how much this is going to ease the Benefactor’s mind, but it is worth a shot. See****** you next time.
******Well not literally*******
*******Goodbye!
