Ten of Wands [Reversed]

A Farm—DAY

The Sailor and I eventually make our way out of the woods and out into the old oak alley leading up to the farm compound. We find two of the crew, young Iris and old Mary are photo-documenting the farm. Particularly the long quarter mile driveway. I apologize that the Sailor and I have been in their line of view, and then ask what they are doing. Although I know very well. I am just surprised they have taken the initiative after I had mentioned earlier that it needed done.

“We don’t want to give away the details,” Iris responds batting her eyes flirtatiously.

“If I may be forward. What exactly are you two girls looking for in a man?” I ask hesitantly. They answer in unison.

“Fearlessness.”

“I am more or less fearless,” I tell them, “But in actuality also godless and alone.” Again in unison they prompt.

“Explain.”

“For example there was this one time in the mountains when I was walking around a small hill, when suddenly, I came upon a bear. I made eye contact with him in the distance.”

Both. “What happened?”

“He takes off after me and I run. He catches up and I grab a branch and swat at him.”

“And then?”

“Then I continue running, barely making it to the ranger station.”

“And?”

“And, nothing. Forget it. I have.”

Page of Cups [Reversed]

A Flophouse—EVENING

I am trying to fix the ice maker in the hallway when I spot Andrea, wandering the corridors looking for me. Hoping to bump into me.

“Hi.”

“Bonsoir, Frank.”

“Listen, if we’re going to do this let’s go inside.”

“Oui.”

I take her to my room. She is talking.

“I was thinking about how close we were in old times.” She squeezes my arm. “Thinking about it. It makes me smile. I wanted to find you.”

“It makes me depressed.”

“Oh, Piteaux! Don’t say that.”

“I can't wait till I die”

She ignores it I go on.

“Listen,” I say, “Thinking about wasting ten years trying to have a life with you is really making me sad right now. I want to kill myself. But at the very least I am going to bed to cry and never move again if possible.”

I head to the cot. She follows, climbs in with me. She doesn’t try to cuddle or spoon, just sits. And, as a compromise, she puts her little feet on me. She continues to talk. I color in her toes with a purple marker. She complains a little. I say I would just color the nails but they are so tiny, she doesn't even really have a cuticle.

Three of Swords

My Office—AFTERNOON

Andrea makes a visit to my office. I spot her milling around looking in open doors for me, arms piles high with some books and tools have to return to me as well as a handful of promo material for my company which I had once tried to entice her with. All of this junk I would just assume trashing, but decide to walk over and relieve her from her search for me anyway.

Catching up in the crowded secretary’s room, I find Andrea has Anna Feng in tow. Oh good. More awkwardness. Andrea makes like she wants to speak to me but is embarrassed and /or constantly interrupted by our bustling staff headed to and from the copier. Handing back my stuff, she at length asks what it’s like to actually work in our field out of school. What is it like to have real career, that is.

“It has ups and downs but mostly downs.” I say curtly. “Like now, when I mostly feel sick to be confronted where I work with my first disastrous love.”

She stares only quietly back at me. Finally Andrea timidly asks me, “What is it like getting up in the morning?”

“I am not sure your reasons for asking.”

“Doesn’t matter. What is it like getting up in the morning?” She repeats and I immediately respond.

“Hell.” Then thinking I should be more dramatic add, “Sorry. It just is. I think about how you, and Spike treated me. How he actually got me barred from the department and how you are not my shy little virgin anymore.” I toss my handful of tools, books and swag into a trashcan between us and storm out.

“I just think about you.”

IX. The Hermit.

A Flophouse—LATE AFTERNOON

I wake up bathed in sweat on my rickety little cot.

I had been dreaming that a girl just looked at me and wanted to kiss me. That is the stuff of pure dream. Surely no one has or will. Wanted to kiss me at first sight, that is. Kisses are an uphill battle in this world. And not one of my successful campaigns.

Yea, a few gals have wanted to kiss me in public. The fucked up ones trying to make their beaus jealous or the desperate and non-picky ones at 2AM. Maybe. That’s all. This thing we call love is physical. True love is reserved for the pretty. Love at 1st sight. Amen. They’ve all let me go.

These were the thoughts in the dream. I dreamed I am an old-young man splattered by dreams and drink.

Okay. Not far from truth. I think.

I have now become quite the Hermit, these late days without Andrea. That is the sum total observation as I stand in a cheap room in the City, swigging from a cheap bottle. I look out the window at what I can see of the City from my shabby new place. My whiskey bottle is near-empty. I raise it and shake its final contents, which glow amber in the dwindling sunlight.

Shit.

I’m going to have to go get more.

VIII. Strength. [Reversed]

A Flophouse—NIGHT

I shiver with the ague under the thin blanket as Mary climbs into the canopy bed with me and I feel the warmth and smoothness of her flannel pajamas against me. Despite the terrible fever, here we are in all too cozy in this shabby room I’ve temporary let, while I figure things out.

We were working project together, shooting some documentary video of some denizens of a small mountain village to be exact, when I was stricken again. And she came to my aid again. I’ve become weak. I cannot remember much more.

Now, we lie on a cot in the mostly empty room. We talk about the shoot in the dark.

“I doubt your husband would approve of the one-bed situation, Mary,” I say at last, “But I am too sick for the cold floor and you should also not give up the bed.”

“I’m not married,” she offers.

“Okay.” I accept, “But, the kid?”

“Willie. With his grandparents.”

“Okay, good.”

“Did you think I had to be married to have a kid?”

“No, but. You know.”

“I know.”

At a lull in the conversation I am shocked as she casually puts an arm across my chest and nestles against me, “I hope we’re together forever. As production partners, I mean.”

It is a rather bold move. She is not embarrassed.

Certainly, Mary could be a woman to die for, so sweet and not terrible looking for her age and seemingly smart. And I certainly thought we got along well together. At the moment I was too miserably ill to consider the idea further. So, though the attention is divine, so with a million regrets I ask about her baby, Willie.

“Yea, I better check on him again before we sleep.” And she is back out of the bed and the lights are on. I offer some loose change on and she heads to the payphone in the hallway.

I decide to struggle out of bed also to urinate and, once up, immediately decide I am too weak to make it there. The sink that serves the kitchenette in the corner looks inviting. If I could manage before her return. But it is full of soapy water.

Besides, I think of the embarrassment if I dribbled on my boxers. Boxers!

In my illness, she had been put me to bed in my underwear. Quickly I spot my khaki pants and pull them on as I hear her footsteps in the hall..

“What are you doing?” she smiles slyly upon entering, “You can’t sleep in those uncomfortable things.”

“Well, I can’t share a bed with you in my underwear.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, you know,” I picture her embracing me again and a stray erection poking its head out of the opening, “It might pop out.”

She smiles again and leads me to the cot, “I’ve seen one or two of those before.” She tucks me in and then follows herself, snuggling against me in reassurance, ”In, fact, I saw Willie’s just this morning.”

“Mine’s a little, bigger then Willie’s.”

She giggles and shifts her position under the blankets, deliberately, I suspect, brushing against it.

Eight of Wands [Reversed]

Our Rooming House—AFTERNOON

I return to the tiny house with the rose arbor. As I go up the porch steps I stop to think to myself that I wish I had bought a Christmas present for Sailor Lou and his wife for their hospitality. But, my thoughts are interrupted as I enter to find Maggie and Lou’s extended family is having a get-together in the living room. I try to politely acknowledge everyone as I squeeze through to my rooms. As I go, I call to Maggie.

“I have to say ‘Thank you’ for the trip to the train station. You’ve once again been too kind.” Maggie responds with introductions.

“This is our daughter, her husband and two babies. Of course, you already know our other two kids. They will be staying for a couple of weeks and you’ll be seeing them around.” She turns to address the whole clan. “Frank, here, is one of our boarders. I guess it will be a tight squeeze in the house with him here.”

“And a guilt trip!” I mutter under my breath. I am not sure if Maggie has heard or not, she says.

“The babies are eating Swiss cheese and it is all over the floor. Try not to step on it.”

Indeed, I think the cluster of relatives and the cheese is to over-dramatize the crowding of the house for my benefit. I cross the room and head down the hall to my quarters.

I think I should pack perhaps and go ASAP. I barely stay here anymore and my rooms are mostly empty save some books and papers.

Someone else will probably take me in somewhere. However as I jiggle the lock and enter, I find the room to be even more stark than normal. Furious, I cross to the window and peer out. My stuff is mostly on strewn the back lawn. I grab some of the remaining books and papers left on high shelves in the closet and stuff them into my shoulder bag.

“Did they see these things and get offended or something?”

I leave the house through the back door to the yard to get the rest of my things.

I will not give them the benefit of telling them that I give in. I have three pairs of boots (I will try to take two), my wool blazer, my green jacket, hospital blanket, sleeping pad, notebooks and clipboard. I try to stuff everything into the shoulder bag and a backpack that I also scoop up from the grass. Maggie the caretaker can be heard from the house, yelling.

“We’re watching you!”

I look up. I can see the granddaughter in the window eating cereal in a bowl. I scream back.

“Who’s there? Who sees me? The horse-faced little girl?—”

She is replaced in the kitchen window by the Maggie’s daughter

“—Or the fat middle-aged TWAT!?”

I put on the pack and grab my final things. The back door bangs. It is Maggie, and I give up and trudge off down the street.

Queen of Cups [Reversed]

By The Shore—MORNING

I am standing on a catwalk on the docks, waiting in line to board a ship. Headed to points unknown. To pass the time I watch a tattooed redneck couple in front of me. He is scruffy, tall and paunchy even in jogging shorts. She is too skinny and pale and dressed in skimpy black clothes, but for now better to look at than anyone else. Certainly better than the old woman trying make conversation behind me. I strain to hear but I can’t understand their conversation.

As I suddenly realize that this is but another incarnation of Spike and Tina, Tina seems suddenly pissed and pushes away from Spike. She storms back down the gate squeezing past me. Skanky or not, I smile slightly at a cheap thrill on the thin metal walkway.

But now that she’s gone I can see a well-built redhead several yards past the Spike. I hear a voice. I think it is saying:

“This is yours, Frank, from the beach.”

She is coming toward us. Spike is staring at me though. He stealthily points at the redhead and mouths the words “Thank me” with a grin as he leans back over the rail for her to freely pass. I am not as fast and she smiles knowingly as she approaches. As she wedges past, she smashes my foot. And as I double over and open my mouth to say “Excuse me!” Her left breast pops in my mouth as it passing, leaving behind the taste of the blue cotton tank-top. Someone says, “No. Excuse me.” and pinches my side. I turn expectantly, to find Spike, adding “You’re welcome.”

The redhead is gone.

Ace of Pentacles

A Farm—DAY

The Boss wants us to go do more testing for the pipeline project through the mountains. Although we have already needlessly disrupted peoples’ lives and yards in the village, she wants to put some survey transects perpendicular to the proposed right-of-way, between houses to account for what she perceives as areas of “Potential impact.” The crew decides to make a weekend of it; it is a holiday, Independence day weekend, after all.

We’ve set up a temporary field office in the parlor of the farm compound. While the crew is up in the village, I straighten up our space. I working on the shelves and mantle, fixing up some clay pots and a huge glass water cooler jug that the Boss has filled with pens. I consider throwing them away, but hate to.

I continue cleaning up the office. I take the jug and consider tossing it out unto the grass when I see the crew has tossed a bunch of old soil samples. The Boss is out there cursing us for being litterbugs and trying to pick up and re-bag the dirt. So I feel guilty and begin to help. But I don’t feel that guilty so I am only scooping some of the more obvious rocks. Only to realize on closer inspection that they are actually potatoes. The Boss says that it pointless for me to only get the rocks. I tell her that we only have dirt, rocks and a few potatoes perhaps in the yard. We ought to leave them all because they are all-natural, not trash. She looks back confused.

“Like the dirt you just picked up?” I dig at her. She stares blankly, while I notice there are a few broken bottles as well and begin to pick them up also.

“You don’t understand,” she says at length, storming off “Picking up potatoes is never going to save the company.”

It’s no matter. But I am filthy now.

As I look for some decent clothes to wear for the weekend, a pretty redhead, our new crew member peeks in to show me shows a patriotic painting she has made and is asking everybody’s opinion. Rather than be perturbed that she not with the others working, I say quietly that it shows her good spirit and is thus sure to inspire. She hears me and asks me to repeat it. I do, embarrassed. Then she comes and kisses me thanks.

On second thought the new girl hugs me for good measure as well. She is cute and warm and I am suddenly looking forward to our time together.

She look so familiar. Is she a student I had a crush on back at school? I can’t remember her name.

“You’re who again?” I stammer and confess. “I forget your name.”

She smiles seductively and takes my hand, “Funny face” she smiles.

Yes! That was my nickname for her.

Two of Swords [Reversed]

Back In School—DUSK

The campus museum has opened so I scoot across the rainy grounds and go inside. I linger at the threshold a minute, dropping a wet, ruined cigarette into a puddle, and crushing it underfoot as I go. The museum has a display about a factory that used to be in this town. It’s a bit sad. Sad to think that things that were once something important, are now just a pet project of some local historian.

“I hate these fake histories.” I mutter and think about my own home town. Like everybody’s home town, it used to have a greeting card company or an orange juice cannery or something at the turn of the last century. This is what had put it on the map. And now it’s gone. Me or someone like me will write a book about someday.

I leave. Lighting a new cigarette in the recessed doorway. And continuing my exploration as the sun sets.

The Dean spots me taking a tour of the old campus. He asks what I have been up to since school. He smiles when I tell him.

“Well, look at this guy!” he grins, looking at me, “How many years of school did it take to get that job?” I think: 4 undergrad, 4 grad, and then multiply them.

“16.” I say, bemused that he has attempted to distill a life of trials into a small figure.

He chuckles, knowing or at least suspecting my error. I consider saying that I was including elementary and high school, but that would be much more than 16. I shrug and head off.

As I enter the auditorium, the Dean stops me and says “Check out the new tiling. I did it myself.”

I enter and go up the aisle. It is tiled, as is the area before the stage. There the porcelain tile has been cut and caulked to fit the half-circle shape and some are thus, sinking or loose. Outside there is a battle blazing on campus again. And, as this roars to life, the building shakes and the poor tiling drips off and crashes on my head. I rush back out into the quad.

As if on cue, the Sailor runs past with a pack of infantry.

He is always around when I need him.

He spots me as I, drenched, survey the melee. He stops long enough to ask if I am all right. “Yeah,” I shrug, taking out my own tiny little machine gun, “We did this last week, didn’t we?”

The Sailor nods. “They’re closer now than ever. Surrounded me at my post last night. Be warned. They’re here now. Surrounding us. You can barely make out their dark forms. Wait till your eyes adjust to the dark. Anyways, they’ve been at it since the middle of last night.”

“They were telling me of my impending doom,” he continues, backing me up into the doorway for safety, “I was soon blown up, and the medics had to pack my organs back in like a bagger at a grocery store check out.” As he talks, he grabs my satchel and dumps it out on the flag stones, partly to demonstrate the repacking of his guts by the docs and partly to see what useful supplies I may be carrying.

“Well, you’re looking well,” I say. He’s probably drunk.

“Thankfully, they are putting me on an evacuation helicopter. I got them to do it. It’s supposed to give me ride back into the City.”

“That’s crazy and expensive.”

He explains that it is not rented but leased it outright. Actually he used this battle as an excuse. He and Maggie had learned when how to fly a chopper when they were young and wanted to try it again. And helicopter licenses never expire in the City so even though they are old, they are both ready to go.

I hear the chopper coming in from out over the sea and look for a place land. I go out in the quad to look, crescent moon now visible in the gloom. The chopper is huge and cherry red. Out of place in a war zone. I tell the Sailor how nice it is. He says he just came from getting insurance for it when the battle kicked up again. They whole affair cost him about a million.

I say “That’s great. You can’t take the money with you. Blow it on whatever makes you happy.”

The helicopter makes a brave landing in the quad. And I follow the Sailor and the other soldiers aboard it. The chopper remains under heavy fire and can’t take off.

Queen of Wands [Reversed]

A Village—DAY

...and the crew heads back to the boat and the river. Iris seems a bit jealous. Of the Boss or the boat or both.

Six of Pentacles

My Office—DAY

After making up with her secretary for going to the movies, I can overhear the Boss calling the subcontractor she uses as a report editor.

“Remember, I pay you a lot of money up front to make sure these things go out without a lot of extra ‘ing’s’ and ‘ed’s’ on the words, so keep up the good work.”

The Boss slams down the phone and then calls me into her office to ask about the project.

She tosses down the unedited report in front of me. One of the crew has scrawled a joke logo on the cover: a little smiling trowel.

“The trowel is the only tool we’ve been using,” she says “But with the crew we’ve got, that’s probably for the best.”

“That is true, but that’s the pitfall of hiring temporary workers.”

She seems to bat her eyes at me in a flirty way so I play it cool. And not horrified.

“It’s all just in a day’s work, you know.” I continue. Though it’s not. It’s a ridiculous amount of shit I do for this company.

But then she starts to get a bit close and I jump up, knocking a large framed poster and clock off the wall. I throw it all back up...

King of Swords [Reversed]

A Farm—NIGHT

In the main parlor seems to be the main action of the party. Everyone is in a costume and represents an Egyptian deity. But it is something a bit more nefarious than a dinner play I think.

The Boss, Anubis, is hosting. I also recognize Iris-Isis, who shuns me at the door and takes her place in the middle of the large U-shaped table with a frown. I find that somehow I have been chosen as Ra and sit at the head of the table between Isis and Anubis.

The Boss asks Iris what her problem is. She says “I don’t like to be surrounded by all the fruit loops staring at me.” I make a face and the Boss next asks me the same question.

I look at the attractive women in Egyptian garb lining the table, including Mary, Nut. I reach out left and right and squeeze Isis and Anubis’ forearms gently and say “It’s nothing, Boss. The view from this side of the cereal bar is quite lovely.”

But I realize as I look around the room that it is an office party of some sort that we are having. I do slowly recognize everyone under the guise, including Sailor Lou, Horus whom I spot at the end of the table. At length, the Anubis-Boss explains that each division is supposed to come up with games as entertainment.

I don’t want to join in and slump in a chair in the back when something resembling an ancient Egyptian Easter Egg hunt begins. Mary-Nut takes my photo and urges me to have fun. At this I decide to leave the party to see what else is going on in the other rooms of the farm complex. I can hear Mary comment to Iris about my pretend tough guy façade as I go. “I bet he gets laid, though.” she adds.

As I pass Lou-Horus, I repeat the quip. “I’m not as tough as I pretend, Sailor Lou. But at least I get laid.” However, Lou is with several other colleagues and I regret the glib remark at Mary’s expense.

Knight of Swords

By The Shore—AFTERNOON

I wake up in the sleeping bag By the Shore. Again. It’s well into the day this time though. Some young Boy Scouts are running amok on the beach. As a former scout myself, I feel guilty watching on while they unproductively terrorize the beach goers with their random running and yelling. So I get up, now trudging in the sand after them.

I think to myself “I know if the scoutmaster were here, he’d want them busy, keeping the site neat and clean. Maybe I should call them in?”

When I catch up, I try to wrangle them in, yelling and then trying to take their volleyball when a stray bump takes it toward me. But the old Sailor passes, intercepts the ball and returns it to the kids. He is of no help.

“Sailor Lou, know if there are there any specific plans for the scouts today? And, if so, how long should I make the kids work before playing?”

He shrugs, “Use them to clean up the trash on the beach until sundown. That sounds fair. That’s what I’d do.”

The Sailor walks back off, but in the meantime, the scouts are playing with the ball again.

“Scouts! Fall in! We have work to do!”

They begin to gather slowly, a dune buggy runs up unto the beach before them and tips over. We all gasp.

“Scouts, the driver may be hurt, do you remember the first aid for this situation?”

However, the driver pops right out of the cab. It is a redheaded girl in racing leathers. I awe I am able to mumble “Hi!”

“Hi, Frank.”

“You know her?” whispers a scout in my ear in disbelief that a dork like me might know such a sexy woman.

“Sure, of course I know her.” I say, but am not sure myself, “She and I go way back, don’t we?”

“Iris,” she offers.

“Iris. Of course. Iris.” As a test case I open my arms to embrace her, she smiles and somehow I take this as an invitation to kiss her as well.

This Woman is a Temptress.

Eyes closed, my searching mouth finds the heavy red lipstick and lip ring. I’m exhilarated by the moment. She grudgingly allows it and smiles back with a sexy sneer when I pull back. I beam at the Scouts.

“See? I told you I knew her.”

VIII. Strength.

Our Rooming House—EVENING

I am back in the bedroom, staring out the window at a gathering storm. Andrea is making her nighttime preparations. I can hear running water from the bathroom as well as her voice.

“Piteux, you must go out and close the paddock gates. Leo will get out! And be careful!”

She’s right, of course. Not that it’s my job. Not my horse. Not Andrea’s either but she loves the landlady’s beautiful white horse. I head outside.

The wind is picking up steadily, whipping my clothes around as I approach the swinging gates. I peek my head inside.

“Horse?”

There’s a wind gust and the gate clangs shut and I jump back, narrowly missing it from clamping shut on my neck. The horse comes out of the barn and rears a little. I look up.

“There you are, Leo. Good horse.”

I wind is unending. I lunge at the gate, forcing it shut and locking it. Now the lightning picks up, but as I head back to the house I grab a kite that has blown up against the fence. He lets it fly behind me as I run back to the house, laughing at my success.

I am still smiling satisfactorily when I get back to our rooms. I sit on the bed and flip through a book. The water shuts off in the next room; I can hear the sound of the shower curtain retracting. I call to her.

“Je suis fini, Petit.”

Petit is my funny word for her. Little one.

There is no answer. I start up from the bed.

“Petit?”

I enter the bathroom to find it empty. I wave away the steam of the running hot water, but even waving the fog away does not make Andrea appear.

“Petit?”

VII. The Chariot. [Reversed]

The City—MORNING

But the post-hurricane fortune ended here. As Spike and I drive my Impala, loaded with junk, back into my ruined apartment building, we find the neighborhood blocked off. Maggie the landlord along with two uniformed policemen are inspecting each car on the street. The cops bark for us to park and wait our turn and I leave the engine running for fear that it will not start up again due to water in the engine from the storm.

Meanwhile, to the general displeasure and suspicion of the cops, we get out and demand answers from Maggie about what the cops are up to. She says she is trying to deter the undesirables out of the building. Afraid squatters would move in quickly. I am outraged but Spike says to stay calm because we have nothing illegal. He misses my point.

At our turn the cops wave us on and I gently press the gas peddle. The car sputters in the growing mud, and after fishtailing violently, frees itself and creeps forward. This annoys the impatient policemen who wave us in eagerly. I press the gas a little more and the car fishtails again. The cops dive out of the way and I hit a fence.

While they attempt to search it. Spike and I begin to push the broken Impala into a nearby garage so we can put it on a lift. The garage to is deserted but the machinery is easy enough to noodle out. Spike insists the car is fine, but as we push it unto the lift and hoist it, it looks like the whole front end is about to fall off.

As the situation sinks in, I spy Maggie walking down the street. Still irritated about the cops blocking me from my own place, we decide to follow her. She now goes into the neighboring grocery store. There, from the bushes I can overhear her and the shopkeep discussing plans to raze and expand the Rooming House. We realize that the Maggie is trying to clear the tenants so that she can sell the place to the grocery store owner.

Spike and I go inside. I sarcastically as a guilty-looking Maggie “What’s up?” Spike stops at the counter where over-zealous shopkeep try to sell him something. He gets a free mug instead. It’s got a realty logo on the side. He hands me over one, too, along with what looks like a $9.99 invoice for carpet cleaning service for the apartment I am being forced out of.

“No, thanks” I hand the mug back and barely save myself from collapsing. I had been keeping an ugly, bloody chest wound a secret under my jacket since the storm.

Ten of Wands

In The Hospital—NIGHT

I wake up on a gurney in a quiet hospital hallway. I quickly sit up, slide off and look around. A girl is on a nearby gurney in a near full body cast. I recognize her from the farm- pursuit and party. She wakes and snaps at me viciously.

I jump back in alarm then chide myself for the shock; her teeth aren’t much danger under the plaster head cast. But all four limbs, head and torso are in separate plaster casts and she’s rocking back and forth and she throws herself off the gurney to the floor.

She lands nearly upright and now advances on all fours, drooling and snapping her jaws in the casts. The whole effect is like she is some kind of giant, stiff, sphinxlike windup toy. Still, she closes in as I back up against a wall and fail to find a way out.

I dodge to the side and fall over a green body bag on a third gurney. A shock again as the body sits up, tossing me to the floor. The hands come up to pull the zipper open. It’s Spike, of course. Fucking with me.

Spike begins to crawl out of the bag and grabs at me on the floor when he quickly gets his arms free. I scramble up yelping and running for a set of double doors. But they are sealed shut, leaving me helplessly pinned against them as Spike rises from the gurney. He advances on me and I cower but at the last moment, the doors pop open behind me and I fly through backward.

I turn in the air, landing face-first. I jump up, lock the door. When I turn to survey what appears to be the morgue, I realize I am disturbing two morticians working over a cadaver. I nonchalantly dust off my knees. One takes a step towards me.

“Who are you?”

“I make the rounds as a comedian and improv actor.” I say quickly, roaming and touching and looking at the equipment, “I bring down the house, any house, any night. Tonight, as occasionally, I find myself in the morgue, to entertain the night staff. Tough room, but I like a challenge.”

At this, I fling open one of the freezer doors while the morticians still stand looking open-mouthed and incredulous. The metal tray rolls out of the freezer containing not a whole corpse but a pile of organs. I turn back to the two morticians, suddenly remembering the meat party and not wanting to be thrown back out into the hall with Spike.

“Humph. Do you want me to do some chores or something? I mean, I’m sorry you miss out on my acting every week. But, I have worked in a morgue before, and I can help out while I’m here.”

On mortician steps forward. She says “Well, then we’ve got a real treat for you tonight.”

I note for the first time that she is a she. For whatever that means. I point to the freezer.

“Yeah, I see you’ve got quite a chuck roast going on in there.”

Now the other, a man comes forward ominously adding “This one is special. It’s her ex-husband.”

He nods at the lady mortician. I gulp. “Oh. Let me guess. He was more of a beef brisket in worn denim.”

They both simile and nod.

“Exactly.”