The Despair

by Anderson Evans
SAGATROPE Publishing
Editions 1&2 - 2006 and 2007
Edition 3 - 2009

Copyright © 2007 by Anderson Evans

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, incidents, and dialogue,

except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services,
are imaginary and are not intended to refer to any living persons or to
disparage any company’s products or services.

All rights reserved.

SAGATROPE.COM / E-Mail - Anderson@sagatrope.com

The/Despair
Revision 3
or
‘Sighs and Leers and Crocodile Tears’

by
Anderson Evans
 TH E / D E S PAI R

_____Prologue_____
“You a bachelor, Harris?”
“No sir, been married six wonderful years.”
“Pretty wonderful are they?”
“Mostly, yes sir. Had an issue a couple years back, but then the baby came, changed
all that. Why do you ask, sir? I mean, I don’t imagine you had me come all the way
here to ask me about family life... sir.”
“Just...How do I say this?... trying to get a quick read. You don’t know anything
about this project do you?”
“I heard some rumors, something about the underground sectors, strange stuff.
Something about mass lobotomization. Something about crowd control. The word
Orwellian was used. Didn’t, well I didn’t. Sir, I didn’t know how to take it.”
“Some men are born to be fathers, most good military men are born that way. The
military is their first family and it provides a shining example. Today’s military man,
today’s Commander Harris is regimented, driven, progressive. Good for balance, but
out there... You understand this is a your ears only type rundown?”
“Sir, yes sir. Code Jericho, sir. It’s my first, but I understand. I get it sir.”
“Calm down Harris. The danger in this assignment is not ours. It’s a different kind
of operation than men like us are accustomed to; thrive on. Every so-many years
there are instructions that come from up top. With a population of seven billion
people it’s not uncommon to find strange mutations of the human brain. Certain
traits that should be alien to a man, but aren’t always. Hitler had them, Nero... Even
someone like Ceaser Augustus or St. Augustine.
These were not supermen, I don’t know if you were ever forced to listen to that

[]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

kind of talk, Harris. But this alien part of their minds, it’s no blessing. It’s not
anything, ‘special,’ in the sense you might have been told about, taught about. What
it is, well it’s a type of mental extroversion our country has been keeping a strict eye
on and handle over since WWII, and this year, this day Harris... we’ve made the kind
of progress someone deep in the trenches only a year ago would have told us was
impossible. Here, read this:”

Who is Madame Baroque?

On my deathbed, have we created
An expectation?
Did we worship our failings?
We preyed to them...
In the darkness
So where is the light...
Encased?
In her shoulders
and in her
Disappointment.
I feel inside-not-outside tears.
To her, eternal vacancy
in my big brass bed
is patriotic.

“I’ve read it sir, but I’m not sure I see a point?”

“No, you wouldn’t. In it is a mathematical algarithm naming all the names of non-
God.”
“non-God sir?”
“There are exactly 9 billion names for God. That’s hard to fathom, but all you need
to worry about is that it’s factual. There are exactly 9 billion names for God. Using a
hidden code in the poem, a computer... A computer I could no more use than I could
sing an operetta, was able to compute 6 billion names for Non-god. First time we
ever got a read of a number that worked with the program. A good Christian man
like yourself might call these names, the name of the Devil, which is, obviously, one
of the six billion names.”
“This is all very foreign to me sir.”
“And to me, if you want to know the truth. You and I are here because of the Sulli-
van test. We are very much a polar extreme, similar opposites to the man who wrote
that poem you read. A man that one year ago today was crawling with lice, soliciting
people to read his poetry for pocket change in the New York City subways.”
“And now?”
“Now, in the room next to us that man sits, unconscious, attached to wires in a brutal
way. Down the throat, through ocular cavities, rectum implantation. It’s the oddest
thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of things, Harris. A lot of things. No reason
for you to look in on it, and that’s an order.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“Now this man, he’s sort of like those supermen that aren’t supermen at all, and you
might say, what would someone like that be doing in a subway hassling tourists for
nickels? That’s classified Harris, and it’s another question you should be in no way
required to ask. Not now. Now your job is simple. It’s to read into this microphone
everything that shows up on the printed page. Don’t try to figure it out, that’s some-
one else’s job.”
“I won’t ask, sir, but...”

[]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“I’m going to tell you one last thing, everything else will be need-to-know basis. The
thing-nonsuperman-weak-beggar-bastard in the next room. He built it.”
“Built what?”
“He called it the transcendence machine, we’re to call it Jerhico-7. Designed it. He
knew what Madame Baroque was. We had to let him construct. Couldn’t be done
otherwise.”
“But, what you said about the wires. I sort of assumed he was... I mean I figured
force was involved... I thought this was a guy we were ‘taking care of.’”
“Don’t try to figure that out, this isn’t a game of Sodoku old Uncle Chester dickied
around with during his slow hours at the corner store, it’s death. It was his way of
pulling a trigger, and Harris?
“Sir?”
“You aren’t an archeologist. You’re a man with a shovel. You’re digging up bones.”

[]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

_____Mytzlplk_____
“If I were feeling polite, I’d say this is fascinating,
but I’m feeling honest, so I’ll just go ahead and say that
you’ve flipped.” Headley Donovan says this to Ross
Hartley.
“Yes, I must have, along with everyone else attached
to this project. The point still being: I have to find Con-
rad.”
“You really think he’s alive don’t you?”
“If I can fake suicide with suits watching me every
minute of every day, does it seem impossible or even
unlikely that he wouldn’t have done it with their sincere
interest?”
“I don’t know that I really understand what you are
trying to say, except that I think you need to unfake your
suicide, and find somebody to talk to. You can afford it, I
worry about you.”
“Alright, alright. Just listen to me, crazy as what I’m
[]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

saying may sound. I want you to be our middle man. I

have a way to reach him, but not for another month, and
I have to get out of Rutherford right away.”
“A month from now Judy and I will be moving to
Chicago, I’ve been trying to tell you. We got married
yesterday.”
Ross begins crying as his knife pierces Headley’s
chest.He thinks about how inappropriate it is that he
now must be murdering a friend, a body he loves, but it’s
now self-preservation. It wasn’t about finding Conrad, it
was about experiencing that freedom. No responsibility.
No person to answer to. Conrad had beaten them and
the fools couldn’t see it.
“He put me in a place in which I could beat them too,
if I really wanted to,” Hartley thought this while moving
his quivering lips, yet somehow a thought came simul-
taneously holding in it much more serious vibrations:
Delusion kills, delusion kills, delusion is killing.
Hartley bagged the body with only the moonlight
witness, and tossed it away, deep into Margarita’s Bend,
bawling inside, communicating to the nothingness,
sounds of a destroyed super-natural creature.
A small Kentucky town, a backwoods apartment com-
plex. Months go by, seasons change daily and plans get
made then demolished, pacing causes violent murmurs,
clothes change hue, walls fall down, chimneys sweep
themselves, cows come home, chickens roost shoes wear
out, storefronts close, eyes close, hands and razors build
bloody bumps on a half-cleft chin, and, finally, Ross
Hartley has a rational thought. He will call Graham,
the only person surely as anxiety ridden as he is at this
intense window of time. Graham Ashby picks up his
phone.
“He...Hello?”
“Graham, it’s Ross. The excrement has landed on the
[]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

fan, and doom is making a mess of the air.”

“I knew it was time. The discharge is immanent, my
new blue suit is pressed as hell, and I am ready to kill,
and you know what Rossy?”
“What?”
“This first one is free of charge.”
They had both lost their marbles via opposite means:
pure volition versus. immanent acceptance. Neither had
agreed with either, and the boyhood friends of Conrad
Conner had been reassembled. Their innocence was
nobly relinquished, but their candor left all three feeling
whole.
Stranded in loneliness, Conrad Conner does not un-
derstand why he has this breath of courage and strength.
He wonders why suddenly his cynicism seems so hand-
some.
They tell him that his wives are on vacation, and he
sits in the vacant sitting room warming himself by the
fire as the huge television screen is airing some tech-
nicolor flick about Bonnie and Clyde. The speakers tell
their own story with a baseline giving rise to melodies
from a time of hippie-yippies and Volkswagen automo-
biles still painted chrome orange. He understands the
guests will arrive at ten, and they will talk about how
nice the guest houses are while crowning him king of
the ball. He will again see only strippers and prostitutes;
people that had the gall to answer vile internet ads
secretly posted by their own visibly conservative, but all
together conspiratorially defined government.
He supposes tonight they will have selected a new
bride based on behaviors exhibited this past week. He
sees her in his mind. Excitement has deadened through
the demise of formulas within what was once surprise.
Essence proves singular contentment pragmatically
trumps minimal pleasantry through incumbered com-
[10]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

munal engagement, or so they say. The jargon ceases to

impress Conrad imposing on the devious way nihilistic
victory is matrimonially imposed.

“Be that as it may Mr. Hartley, I wish you could have

let me handle him. I could have used my new nucleotide
resolver that matches my retro-vintage ascot.”
“I told you it was an act of immediate aggression, not
premeditated murder!”
“Even so Ross, even so.”
The coast guard had not wiped the charm from Gra-
ham Ashby, if anything they had taught him to cover all
the weakness liken to a man consumed with indecision.
This Graham Ashby was a man; This was a man that had
sought out a fate.
“Where do we go from here Graham?”
“Where would The Son of Man go from here?”
“Excuse me?”
“I feel a prayer coming on.” Graham takes a ram’s
horn out of his shining Samsonite briefcase, he anoints
himself with oil.
“Our Father who art in heaven...”
“Graham, what the fuck are you thinking?”
“Ross, be strong and courageous, do not be discour-
aged for the Lord, your God, will be with you wherever
you go. Joshua 1:9.”
“Are you on something?”
“You’re the one with dilated eyes.”
There is a moment of silence. Ross feels a pang of
agnostic guilt.
“Do you think I’m going to hell?” He asks.
“That’s a morbid question.”
“You’re a morbid question. What are you, the Angel
[11]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

of Death?” This is applied with a seemingly wry tone.

“Oh this?” Asks Grahm dipping his finger into the
briefcase, taking it out with red liquid dripping, “Well,
it’s definately ram’s blood.”
“It’s a sign of the times.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is the world is ending, and I helped
bring it about. It was never a cure for despair, it was a
power that apparated as a thought, but to keep it from
being socially bastardized Conrad gave that thought the
right to destroy. It was never supposed to work, it was
never meant to rise up toward completion. How did he
inspire an underground government to fund his experi-
ments, and how did they work?”
Graham takes this in: “Where exactly is Conrad
now?”
“The prism gateway has given way to an impossible
juxtaposition of universes that will at once amalgamate,
but a high order of futurists that vanished from the
Haight-Ashbury district in 1963 have appeared out of an
undisclosed location in India. They are suspicious of the
project’s existence and hypothesize the creation of mul-
tiple paths will give way to strange and intense change.
Humanity more or less will lose all sense of choice and
decision exponentially.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That I think they are cloning Conrad and experi-
menting
with him, but I have a gut feeling that the original Con-
rad is tending bar in Del-Ville, TN, only 200 miles from
Rutherford, our home town.”
“But who is ‘They,’ Ross? The government?”
“As the Angel of Death, I imagine you are going to
know when the time is right.”
“So you’ve become the seer? The prophet?”
[12]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“Well played.”
“But this reality, it’s lunacy.”
“Don’t I know it guys, oh, I’m Conrad Conner num-
ber 17, the seventeenth clone to be released.” ...So there
is Conrad’s visage popping up from behind the tree,
except you can immediately tell this guy is not at root
anything like a real Conrad Conner. The personality
sends a chill into the soul, perhaps it’s the sense of this
entity not having one.
“You know guys it’s fucking great to see you, even
though I’m a copy, I’m just like the real Conrad. He has
his problems with the whole cloning thing, but he’s a
great guy, just needs a little more direction in his life,
wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t know,” says the Angel of Death.
“Graham, you have to kill him!” Proclaims the Seer.
“My future,” says Graham pulling a bazooka from his
briefcase, “is your past.”
He fires the weapon and Conrad Conner number
17 is no more. The Angel of Death feels no remorse as
he opens the briefcase and inserts the gun. The Apos-
trophic Radiating Bazooka 5000’s dimensions are mas-
sive compared to ‘ol Samsonite. This confounds the Seer.
“How are you doing that?”
“In the name of the Lord.”
“Well maybe we should toss this now dead body in
there?”
“You don’t understand, this briefcase is working
symbiotically with my perspna. You throw that thing in
my head, I don’t know what I’d do. Good thing Conner’s
already dead, you can’t murder a dead man.”
“I understand that, but I don’t know what it means.”

[13]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Meanwhile, in Del-Ville, Conrad steals a glance at

Red. How a man so downtrodden could have made his
way onto the island via helicopter, his helicopter mind
you is mind-boggling. Red’s only explanation as the duo
made it back to the states was: “Mother Fucker looked
like you and talked like you, said I take this helicopter,
so I done took it Conrad. I love you man, but I beat the
shit out of that mother fucker.”
Conrad translated this with such precision he heard
nothing but the violently explicit expletive introduction,
while the rest was like a song he might have heard on
obscure AM radio and would never understand.
And now, with equally vague explanation, he had
walked into the corporate small town community
themed restaurant and found himself treated as bereft
employee rather than customer. He had been playing
confused pilsner presenter ever since, and in those two
weeks Red refrained from speaking to him and everyone
else. He was left undisturbed rocking to and fro in the
back of the eatery with no interruption. It may also be
worth mentioning that Conrad found himself stone-
silent too, so did the other restaurant employees and
guests. Each day it was just the same; Each night never
came.

“It seems Number 17 has left us with a set of wheels.”

“Shit, it’s a Delorean!”
The Angel of Death and the Seer begin their road trip
from wherever they might be to wherever they may be
going in a car not important in that it is to be driven, A
car that is needed only to give the illustration of forward
momentum, and a location. Environment is still in a
haze; A dream-place.
[14]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Two more weeks pass, and the silence still has not.
Red now does not even look in Conrad’s direction, and
Conrad finds himself looking at nothing but the old
black dish washer from the pub where he had met Judy.
Wait, was she real? Was Red real too? Was Headley... Was
he Wilson Wilbanks?
“I don’t believe in anything,” he says out loud, and
suddenly in walks Willbanks himself complete with a
body.
“You escape from your island of misfit toys and you
don’t even bother calling?” A question followed with
quiet.
“Conrad? What’s the deal bro? What did I do to
deserve
the silent treatment?”
Conrad tries to speak, but all that comes out is: “Om-
elette-Du-Fromage,” which oddly enough means “cheese
omelet,” in French.
Wilson responds with a look of complete understand-
ing,
then parading all of her glory, in walks a face that regis-
ters the name: Judy Jetton.
-----
The Angel of Death has turned up a mix of ‘soft
sounds,’ from the mid-nineteen-nineties trapped deep
within the automobile’s sound system. He and The Seer
are both curious as to why androgenous visions of curly
long man-perms and husky ballads synching to films one
never ‘asked’ to see seem so damn necessary right now;
Why they are both enjoyed, and available.
“Don’t you have a younger sister Ross?” Asks the
Angel of Death.
[15]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“I think I did, but I seem to have lost all sense of

family.”
“Do you feel programmed?”
“Not programmed exactly. Is that how you feel?”
“I feel like all the things that were important to me
aren’t. For some reason I care more about what I’m
wearing and how that might help define what I’m do-
ing.”
“Which is?”
“I never know until it’s done. The way I’m talking is
changing too. This conversation for instance, it’s not my
style.”
“For some reason I know that I alone know that the
reason you feel this way is because of the transcendence
machine anomaly. Your actual personality is being as-
similated into a fantasy personality created in the mind
of Conrad Conner. I’m in the same boat, and I’m not
necessarily
okay with it, but it is a cure for the despair, or at least, it
will be.”

“I know about Kelly, Conrad,” the Judy character

declares.
Conrad wants to say “Kelly who?” Instead he says,
“For
my money Judge Reinhold is the most underrated actor
of the twentieth century.”

The delorean has shown no sign of disrepair, this is

the very moment in which the gas pedal seems to have
lost the will to hold onto the connection that has kept
[16]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

the vehicle in motion all this time.

“Graham, this isn’t right, we shouldn’t be stopping.”
“Listen Ross, I have no desire to stop. The car is act-
ing up.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting this is your
doing. I’m just saying that the fact that we are stopping
is not part of the ultimate goal. Something is terribly
amiss.”
With that another Conrad Conner clone appears
beside the drivers side door. This double is particularly
off-putting because of a thick black mustache and the
filthy mother of pearl jumpsuit. He makes a motion cap-
turing his desire for The Seer and The Angel of Death to
roll down a window. The Angel of Death reaches for his
briefcase, but The Seer stops him.
“No, this isn’t a regular clone. Roll it down, Graham.”
The instructions are followed.
“Howdy fellas, name’s Sebring the exterminator. Get-
ting
a little nervous you boys wasn’t gonna show. Wanna go
ahead and open the door? I ain’t gonna insist on shot-
gun,
but I get a little queasy in the back seat.”

Conrad hears himself diatribing, “It’s like he was an

every man waiting to happen. The industry had a mar-
ketable
face, but confused it with the likes of Guttenberg. Heck-
erling understood, the sad fact is a woman directing a
man in today’s society is going to immediately place an
emasculating stigma on a guy. I don’t want it to be that
way, but look around you, that’s just the way it is.”
“Conrad, what exactly is it that I mean to you?” Asks
[17]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Judy.
Willbanks intercedes, “Judith, we all know you are a
power player, but the guys have no more need of you.
Thanks to Connie here, I’ve been reborn without tes-
ticles, lots of money, and a new lease on life.”
“Headley?” Judy asks.
“The name is Willbanks now doll face.”
“Are you telling me Conrad castrated you so that you
wouldn’t be competition for my affection?”
This comment directed to the strange Mr. Willbanks
wakes Conrad up from some sort of daze, “Jesus, Judy,
get over yourself!”

“Well boys, here’s the deal: The Baroque virus is a

very real threat, you see, now what I mean by the Ba-
roque virus is, uh, well, there’s this girl right? See, she
really does exist, always has. I’m supposin’ you two are
about the only ones that know the new reality is even
here, am I right?”
“You are.”
“Course I am, but I know well and good you two are
in the dark ‘bout this Baroque thing, anyway she sums
up this ideal right? She’s gonna be affected as hell by this
environment she’s gonna be findin’ herself in. If the real
Conrad runs into her, we’re talkin’ world implosion.”
“So let me see if I’m understanding you, there’s a girl
that is naturally Conrad’s subconscious ideal, but if she
and Conrad make contact it will conflict with his current
state and absurdity will become chaos which will end in
the destruction of everything.”
“That’s what I just said! We need hints, boy, pieces...
hair here, eyes there. You get me?”
“Well, why did we need you to kill her? I’m The Angel
[18]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

of Death.”
“You can’t be killin’ on her son, only I can, I’m the
part
of Conrad that don’t want her.”
“He’s right Graham, but we gotta kill this Sebring guy
if we run into Judy.”
“Judy? Who is Judy?”
“Judy is apparently your ideal, Sebring.”
“Can you tell me somethin’? Does she look like this?”
Sebring takes out a wrinkled up photograph of Judy.
Graham almost admits to complete recognition, but
The Seer intercedes, “That’s...someone else, she’s a good
friend of mine Smitty, I’ll introduce you after we finish
the jobs.”
“Hell yeah!”
“Hell yeah Sebring, hell yeah.”

“Get over myself?” Judy is taken aback.

Willbanks slaps Conrad on the back and says with a
slight chuckle, “That’s the spirit amigo. Tell that bitch
who is in charge!”
Conrad feels a surge of ego, as he concludes he must
be having one of those dreams where he knows it’s a
dream, so he can do and say basically anything. Conrad
lunges at Judy and places his right hand under her shirt,
he squeezes. Judy responds with the sound of accepting
pleasure. Conrad then pushes her to the floor.
“Come on Red, lets go exploring!” Shouts Conrad as
he makes his way toward the exit.
“Conrad, where are you going?!” Cries Judy.
“Don’t worry Darling, the other woman never dies!”
Conrad wasn’t sure in any matter of completeness
what he meant by this comment that seemed to irrever-
[19]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ently break him free from the complications of being

tied down. What a guy like Conrad Conner ever felt
held down to only he really knows, but if any logician sat
down and listened to what these things may be he would
more than likely suggest our hero be institutionalized, or
at least consider heavy medication. That’s the only thing
Conrad’s mother and a man that has devoted his life to
the study of pure mathematical rationality might have in
common.
Conrad had this very thought as he walked out of the
restaurant. A woman, inflated with fruit cakes and bad
dreams appears from behind a corner. She turns out to
be a manifestation of Conrad’s need to be told, “Your
mother is a bitch-cunt.” Conrad is beginning to under-
stand his omnipotence as he has the already heavy young
lady expanded until an explosion takes place, and a sense
of Godliness is splashed in his face.
“You a crazy motherfucker Conrad, I love you man,”
says a fidgeting Red that Conrad decides to equip with a
jet-pack.
“Time to go Red, it seems like a good time to find
some answers.”
“I been watchin’ you cous, you doin crazy shit over
there, I think we need to find us some pussy.”
“I thought I just said that? Did I not just say that?”
“I want some of that yellow pussy cousin, I ain’t never
had it.”
“Well Red, it just so happens our next stop is Tokyo,
Japan.”
“Shit.”

The sensation leaves his body and The Angel of

Death says, “I just felt something, like a change in per-
[20]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

sonality, did any of you guys feel that?”

Before anyone says anything the newly acquired Se-
bring is no longer beside the duo of angel and seer. Now,
beside them, is a tangible character more reminiscent of
a rabbit than a human being. He is wearing a bowler hat,
smoking a pipe, and is wearing no pants, yet this exposes
nothing.
“This don’t look like the Lincoln Tunnel. I must have
taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque!” He exclaims while
clutching his hat and bouncing up and down.
The Angel of Death reaches for his briefcase.
“Take it easy Graham, this is good, level two has been
reached. This means Conrad has discovered his role.
More than likely he thinks he’s in a dream, which is
going to make his desires, expectations and goals expo-
nentially more obscure. Our job now is to find Conrad
before mania
takes hold.”
”Mania?”
“Mania that can only be soothed by this rabbit here.
It seems this is Conrad’s ideal of a spirit guide.”
The lagomorph pipes up, “Fletcher’s the name, and
I’m looking to find some dames!”
“Ross, you’re telling me this is a cure for the mania?”
“I did indeed. Hold onto your ass, it seems your grow-
ing
wings.”
“Ross what’s happening to your forehead?! My God,
it’s a third eye! You’ve got a third eye!!!”
“Then it’s happening fast now, Fletcher where is Con-
rad? Where is Conrad?!!!”
Fletcher presses his stomach and his bowler hat tilts
upward. This reveals a sort of tape deck.
A now illuminated Seer speaks, “Graham, reach in
your bag and take out a cassette tape.”
[21]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

The Angel of Death takes a small grey rectangle from

his bag of tricks, Fletcher leaps up and whisks it out
of Graham’s hand. He inserts it into his hat and again
presses
on his stomach.

Tokyo Japan: 3074: Post

Nuclear Extrapolation.

Conrad Conner has been equipped with a suit of robotic armor

known as a Renegade Rockabilly stigmatic -- it is the latest ver-
sion and equipped with both reticular lasers and a soda machine
stocked only with alcoholic beverage. Red has found himself in a
tank, which Red isn’t expected to really control, rather Red can
just sit back and listen to his favorite Motown Sounds, until
Conrad can get them some tail which is no doubt locked in a
cyber-cell being protected by a ruthless syndicate led by an anime
redneck real estate agent named Buddy Ewing. Buddy Ewing
and his arsenal of Conner clones, robotic comedians in trucker
hats with pictures of bass on them, and genetically enhanced ra-
bid grammar school teachers have all been programmed with one
directive: destroy Conrad Conner, and all cohorts while engaging
the aesthetic for which you are identified. A little back story on
how the ladies Conrad hopes to rescue came to be imprisoned:
In the year 2009, the year of the third world war, two Japanese
geishas -- both considered by a great many men of high eastern
religious standing to hold the ancient secrets of beauty were
cryogenically frozen and launched to Mars for safekeeping. As the
years went past and the world’s mythology became based on sur-
viving pieces of 20th century modern media, rather than ancient
texts that are only now seen as hideously revised versions of
their former glory. Good and evil became obscured, and the world
[22]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

turned to the angriest imagery found in mindless pursuits towards

the misinterpretation of cynical expectations for happiness. That a
man like Buddy Ewing could run the country that was the Revital-
ized United States was not shocking. He took Japan with no prob-
lems, the same with Europe and all of the Americas. It should be
noted that his power became ultimate with his small time militia’s
capture of the earth’s only surviving link to a cable satellite. Buddy
Ewing had an Asian fetish sexually, and set up a space program
to both alter his satellite to strengthen his power and retrieve the
Martian geishas, to satisfy his disarming want for lusty relief.

“Do these things he says mean something?” asks The

Angel of Death.
“Think of him as a map. There are ways to find Con-
rad.
Without this wacky little guy we’re going to be running
into nothing but clones, most of them likely to be much
stronger now. The unfortunate truth is the battle royale
is going to be Conrad’s fight against himself.”
“Am I supposed to find that shit insightful?”
“No, we just have to wade through it.”
“No we don’t, we can rebel.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can, you’re going to have to because I’m out
of here.”
“What?! That’s not right!”
“It is right, you need to know that you and the rabbit
are going to have some handicaps. Things aren’t always
the way it seems they should be.”
The Angel of Death extends his wings and flies away.

“Sir, the girls are almost thawed.”

“Listen Bud, that’s just super, but I’m going to have to
[23]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

give them a couple days worth of the ‘ol propagation at

the movie house on Fourth Avenue, call for Doctor Mao
Ikari.”
“I’m already here Buddy Ewing, along with Com-
mander Harris.”
“I told you boy, it’s just Buddy!”
“Buddy, I strongly suggest propaganda program num-
ber
three.”
“Figured you would you sneaky devil, though I’m
guessin’ you’ve cooked up some a’ them alternate vari-
abilities?”
“Yes, there will be a church cookout, and the y vari-
able will explicate our rabbit in the homburg.”
“That’s brilliant boy, good work, now get out of here.”
“But Sir, there’s one other thing.”
“Well call my people, and have ‘em call yours, skeet!”
“Yes, Buddy.”

“Come in Red! Come in Red!”

Red doesn’t respond and before anything else there
is a new decision being made. A challenge toward the
very derision of heaven and hell. The positive procreates
itself removing any and all sequences of events. The real-
ity is born. From the destruction of the despair comes
the reality.

[24]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

_____A.S.L.N._____
I wake up today as I do most days with the following
question on my mind: “How can you call yourself an art-
ist
when you haven’t offered the world anything?” I try
giving myself the usual excuses - I’m only twenty-one, I
finished that first piece, I’m just not happy enough with
it yet, good writing takes time. I roll out of the sheets
and shake all the accusing thoughts from my head. I
look at the clock. Damn. It’s two o’clock in the after-
noon. Immediately each possibility that is capable of
taking place today runs through my mind. I decide the
best bet is not to go apply for a job or get in touch with
the agency about acting work. I decide my day, as it is so

 Autobiography of a Self-Loathing Narcissist.

[25]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

close to being over, should entail marijuana. I promptly

get stoned.
Stoned, a place where I can feel more around me, but
cannot seem to focus. I feel desire, but for what? I feel
like Sal Holiday from the Kerouac novel living here with
this Venice insomniac, acting at home here in these local
bars. It was as interesting as going into the fancy places
with Kiefer, and less scary. People were real, not plastic,
and it was strange seeing this so clearly. I remember a
thirty-five year old woman asking me if I was out of my
element. I remember a time when I had one of those. A
boy in Tennessee, with dreams and no sins yet commit-
ted.
Marijuana leaves one with an array of clarity con-
scious abstracts, but remembrances of reality are defini-
tively strange. I try to examine everything, but I come
away with no clue as to who I am or where I might be
going. I check the messages on my cell phone. Kirsten
has canceled on me tonight because her mother is in
town for an unexpected
visit. Sure she is. I decide I’ll probably just hang in to-
night, get high again, maybe write.
Write. Write, write, write. I try so hard, and what
have I got to show? I’m a college dropout with no real
job, not a writer. What have I written?

Fire and Loneliness

by Conrad Conner

It began as if it were a new experience, and continued

without any recollected quality. When Sumner Westing-
house tried to reconstruct it inside he saw nothing but
an unattainable Godlike quality. It taunted him always
[26]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

with the final blow resting in the arms of his “beloved.”

Damp of sleep he shuffles-slightly-turns to his left. Yes,
there she is, eyes closed and smiling. Can’t she hear be-
hind the “I love yous” the sadness and the fear and all of
that confusion?
Eyes fluttering the smile is now wider. She is awake
and he gets into character realizing that even his voice
changes when he becomes who she desires. He knows
if he could simply be himself around her that she would
leave him, contenting him with the hope that comes
from lonely desperation.
“Good morning handsome.”
Disappointing her is not his job. His job is to con-
vince her he is happy against even his own will. He
doesn’t fully understand it himself, but he needs some
personal definition other than the societal label of
college student he is currently working around. When
people meet Sumner they know that categorically he is
different. Sumner belongs on a radio or a TV, seeing him
in person doesn’t feel right. You envy him like he is a
movie star, but he isn’t. He is no better than you are and
that is what makes you the most uncomfortable.
There was a time when Sumner had qualities that are
foreign to his now confident glibbing. A face that was
not hidden beneath bright eyes and strong cheeks. Such
a rapid change had occurred at some point in his six-
teenth year that one would swear a different person was
speeding into Caldwell Academy’s sophomore parking
lot in that old brown Volvo. There was a particular time
too, People can’t recollect the exact day, some of us here
remember, but me... I remember the exact second. The
flames of hell grew vast just for a moment because they
knew that I cared.
They all think they got something good out of their
deal in the beginning. They convince themselves that
[27]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

maybe they could have done this on there own. They

wonder what they need to do to get their soul back, and
Sumner was no different. New sensations were visiting
him, they were given all at once. He preyed to God that
a girl might so much as give him a friendly embrace; now
he had lips hard pressed against his prick. Sex is often
the favorite of the young male. No matter how nice he
was before, he becomes slave to it’s immediate satisfac-
tion.
Then it goes away.
Selling your soul never sounds like a good idea, not
even, “at the time.” Good ideas and feelings aren’t the
only ones that show promise. Sumner Westinghouse
showed promise, but likability doesn’t make beautiful
which makes you necessarily cruel, and cruelty is the
only place that gets one to where Sumner wanted, and in
some ways, still wants to go.
The vast shallow of overflowing imagination of what
love might be. They have it, the beautiful people, and
Sumner is almost beautiful, but he is missing the inner
ugliness and no matter what he is given it will not be
his and I knew this or I wouldn’t have made the deal.
The stories I can produce by giving just enough not to
amount to anything make Shakespeare’s tragedies look
like nothing more than a puddle kept damp only by it’s
lofty prose. I’m not disenchanting Shakespeare’s work,
but do you think he preyed for stories like those? Do
you think God nurtured the mind of that tortured play-
wright?
Four years and I have usually lost all interest. Sumner
Westinghouse isn’t suffering anymore. He isn’t happy
either, but he is reflective. They say I don’t care if you
grow, they say I don’t care if you shrink, that when I am
done with you I don’t care what the results of our little
experiment were. These biblical poets, how imbecilic
[28]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

they all were. I care for people and this is why I grant my
wishes.
What use do I have for a soul? It’s all expectation and I
grant you that. I grant you that one bit of hope that you
have something to look forward to, then I wake you up.
Sumner’s not sure if he grew or dwarfed. He just
knows that now he knows too much. He bit into the
fruit and he sees life for what it is. Sometimes he for-
gets and he starts doing well in society once more, starts
enjoying the way Dana’s soft tongue caresses his mouth,
starts weeping for the hungry. Eventually the emotions
will stop because eventually they are meaningless. He is
sad because God is dead, but the devil... somehow the
devil exists. These realizations are what I desire. I want
to share my loneliness
with everyone.

Sumner Westinghouse? Jesus, where did I come up

with that name? It sounds like some sort of dishwasher
salesman. I wonder if there was ever someone whose
goal in life was to be a dishwasher salesman?
What this was: A guilt complex from a conservative
upbringing alluding to coitus without theoretical exis-
tence
of love. There is no plot. A string of yammerings. Melo-
dramatic BS. Maybe I could blend some comic timing in
with an actual plot line. Enough of this whiney, nobody
understands me passively aggressive glorifying bullshit.

A Sense of Family
by Conrad Conner
[29]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Owen Sebring hates his family. At seventeen he is

wearing a thin black tie, black slacks, and some groovy
vintage sunglasses. He is proud that he is able to pull off
such a fashion statement with a father like Rick Se-
bring, who is eternally sporting a mullet. While driving
his Camero, you may just catch Rick staring in his rear
view mirror muttering to his reflection, “hairstyle of the
gods... hairstyle of the gods.” Rhoda Sebring, Owen’s
mother, refuses to shave her legs or wear makeup of any
kind. She says it helps the environment somehow, yet
doesn’t recycle because she and Rick both agree this
practice is a communist plot. Any and all forms of prod-
uct regeneration will reveal themselves as dangerous in
2007, the year of, “The Beast.”
Tuesday evening is brisk in Remmington Tennessee.
Rick has allowed his son a night in his prize car that
looks as new as it did the day it was purchased: March
1st, 1987, a date Rick, who often brought his wife flowers
weeks after their anniversary, never forgets.
“If anything happens to my Cecilia, I swear to God,
son er no son, I’ll cut yah.”
“Dad, I won’t hurt your fucking Camero.”
“Boy, you better watch your fuckin’ mouth or I swear
to Jesus, I’ll take out the belt.”
“Thanks Dad, bye!”
Before any other information can be given on how
to deal with Cecilia, an automotive mark of shame for
any man that appreciates the finer things, Owen takes
off. He has a second date with Loraine Summers and
he is not going to be late. He hits the first stoplight on
Sesame Ave and gets more nervous the closer he gets to
the trailer his dream girl calls home.
Owen and Loraine had met at the Library two weeks
before. Both knew immediately they had a lot in com-
[30]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

mon.
Owen remembers she was wearing this 1960s era purple
dress that would have looked trashy on anyone without
that long orange-red hair.
Their last date had been too typical and Owen isn’t
going to screw tonight up because a turbulent stomach
wants to trip each word in his conversation. He met up
with her at the Library where they had met. Said meet
up was followed by dinner and a movie. He somehow
managed a kiss before she got into her car back in the
parking lot. He knew next time he would be much bold-
er. Tonight he is taking her to a concert in Crosboro. He
has to keep up conversation both on their way there and
on their way back and has at least seven topics he has
decided will be of interest to Loraine.
Owen parks on the road in front of the dark yellow
manufactured home. He walks to the door and knocks
three times. It opens and there stands this guy around
Owen’s age holding what looks to be a three or four year
old girl.
“You must be Owen.”
“Yeah I am.”
“Honey! Your date’s here!”
Owen wonders why this guy, who as far as he can
guess, is Loraine’s brother, just called her ‘Honey.’ Then...
“Thanks sweetheart. Suzy, mind Daddy while
Mommy is out.” - And Loraine goes on to kiss both her
daughter and husband on the cheek.
“You kids have fun now, and Owen, don’t do anything
I wouldn’t do.” - And Loraine’s husband actually winks
and makes a jerk with his pelvis.
Owen is more than a little shocked, unnerved,
stunned, and frightened. Loraine wonders what the
problem is as Cecelia’s engine starts up and Owen’s hand
remains frozen, resting on the keys for a full two min-
[31]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

utes.
“Is something wrong Owen?”
“Are you married Loraine?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you going out with me?”
“Because I like you Owen. I haven’t been this inter-
ested
in a guy in years. Not since Brian.”
“Is Brian your...”
“He’s my husband. Owen, lets say we skip that con-
cert and go get a motel room somewhere. I want you
and I’m not afraid to tell you that. That’s how comfort-
able you make me.”
“You’re married.”
“Yes, it’s a great experience when you find your soul-
mate and realize you get to spend the rest of your life-
time with him.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No.”
She wasn’t being sarcastic, and this scared Owen
enough not to ask any more questions. Loraine sits
silent, Owen stays quiet, and finally Owen just turns the
car off.
“Loraine, I’ve got to go.”
“What? Is something wrong?”
“You’re married, and now you want to sleep with me,
and it seems your husband and your daughter are okay
with this.”
“Yes, they are.”
“I can’t handle that.”
With that Loraine steps out of the car, and walks back
into her trailer. Owen starts the car once again wonder-
ing what just happened. Suddenly Brian lunges out from
the door of his home, Louisville slugger in hand. Owen
slams the car into drive, and as the bat comes down on
[32]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

the back bumper Owen wishes he had just gone ahead

and slept with Loraine.

I guess that’s kind of funny. But it’s not Wes An-

derson, nor Groucho Marx funny. It’s like if Raymond
Carver and Jeff Foxworthy got together and wrote an
unfinished story. Is that really what I want to develop?
I move away from the computer and contemplate do-
ing something more interesting with the evening ahead
of me. It is Friday in Los Angeles after all. I decide to
call Minnie and ask her to meet me at the Santa Monica
Promenade. She agrees, but traffic is bad. I ring her
back, and tell her my mother just called and that she is
dropping in unexpectedly. This excuse makes me think
of a cheesy rock group: The J. Geils Band.
Why can I remember every word to the J. Geils Band
song, “Centerfold,” but could never pass an early level
Spanish class without intense struggle? I think about
how unfair it is as I park my car outside the comic book
store. I walk inside and fumble through a few racks of
comics. I check my pockets to see if I have enough cash
to buy the new Plastic Man issue, but I don’t, so I leave.
So much of my parent’s money lost on cigarettes; it
doesn’t seem right to squander any money from my bank
account on food at the moment. I light up the last camel
in the pack. When I get back to my apartment I’m going
to turn on the computer and see if there is anything
worth finishing. Something so marketable that it could
make a pack a day and a cheeseburger less than luxuries.

[33]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Chapter I
As I left Catherine Stetson’s house that night all I
could think about was how sad this was all going to
make me in a few days. The hormone driven rush kept
me from making any sort of mark on my facial expres-
sions that wouldn’t seem to a remote viewer as anything
but positive. My insides were different, they were saying,
“You have won, but where is your prize? Was this what
you were expecting? A smile springing up from nothing
but trite sexual excitement?” It’s true, this is not what I
expected, nor what I hoped for, but it was the beginning.
The tearing
down of my imagined waking life, the destruction of
rules I had only recently learned to understand. I was
ready to transcend into something new. To offer myself
up to chaos, to mayhem. In four months I would lead a
mass suicide in Saline City, Utah. Yes, I was almost ready
to share all my losses in one beautiful amalgamated mo-
ment.
I arrived home no later than usual, and both of my
parents were in bed. My summer vacation was at an end,
and tomorrow morning I would be heading to the Dun-
lap Bend Suburban Airport for Godard University in Los
Angeles
where I had gone in just two semesters from a most
promising film student to an undeclared, class dodging
eccentric... people loved me for it.
Men and women in their own way all loved me, and
the only way I could love them back was showing them
how to feel pain. I’d make men my friends, and I’d con-
sciously turn them into enemies. I’d make women love
me, and then make them feel they never had the ability
to love in the first place. It hurt at first when I realized
where my identity came from, but then I concluded not

[34]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

only was that how I was tortured, but that it was also
where any seeds of joyful euphoria were rooted, hence
the pain deadened and the pleasure came with a certain
enjoyable peace.
My deep thoughts soon turned to the surreal images
as I slipped away into my dreams. The morning came
quickly. As I waved goodbye to my unknowing family
they waved back, forgetting why they had looked so
forward to this goodbye. Arrival and departure were the
moments my parents and siblings understood me most.
For those two moments where the lies emanating from
my breath couldn’t be smelt, the stench of truth hung in
the air. I was my father’s son.
I flew coach, and as per usual, was seated next to
an old woman with dentures and one oversized, lazy
breast. I immediately tried to picture what she might
have looked like in the tender years of youth, but could
never imagine her without the large object affixed to her
chest. This made me much more unhappy than it should
have, I felt like I should do something for her so I told
her how much she looked like my mother even though
she didn’t. I met with a response that had something to
do with a daughter who married some local newsman in
Gallvasta, Georgia, and a son with drug problems. Her
storytelling ended when headphones were passed out,
the rest of the trip was nauseating and uneventful.

Chapter II
Well, there was my girlfriend, Trixy, waiting for me at
the gate. There wasn’t a more beautiful girl I could have
found more unappealing. She had a beautiful face, but
the little white hairs above her silky lips had now grown
into a mustache vicariously through my own menac-
ing night terrors and misgivings. Her eyes also came off
[35]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

three sizes bigger than they were, scaring me a little, like

the actor Christopher Walken as an angry gangster at a
moment of bloodthirsty plot-climax. The torture her ex-
istence put me through wasn’t quite worth the extra kick
I got out of masturbating with a vagina instead of my
own left hand, but each time I thought about life with-
out, I got sick and refrained from any sudden moves.
Sometimes I think I’d like to have the balls to cut my-
self open. Sometimes who I am makes me so sad I can’t
handle it, so I start shaking and screaming. I blamed it
on Trixy, but the truth was she just happened to come
along as my genetic curse of Episodic Bipolar Disorder,
EBD, followed with schizophrenic speed. Don’t doubt
my insanity, it’s in the well from which I spring. I’ve
come to terms with my infestation. I like it more than
the thought of what I might become without it.
Sometimes I would daydream about taking Trixy to a
private island and loving her forever as we danced naked
and innocent during a constant sunset. Sometimes I
imagined strangling her and having her own father take
the fall. I’d seen enough Hitchcock flicks to know this
wasn’t all that hard. Usually I just imagined her and
Catherine making love with me simultaneously. There
were usually other girls there too, they walked in and out
as I pleased.
I told Trixy I had been thinking about starting a cult
that would have me as their holy godhead. I told her it
seemed like something that would be very therapeutic.
She was telling me all about how well dressed her friend
Matt was. She talked about him a lot, and it always made
me uneasy. By now I was used to it. I found out later
that she had been fucking him every Saturday since they
were nine years old. I would eventually have him killed,
so I guess I really am the bigger asshole.
Trixy held tight as we shared our welcoming embrace.
[36]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

She seemed uninterested in letting go, and finally as I

pushed her away I realized she was stuck in time. The
whole airport was frozen, so when I looked to my shoul-
der
and a little green space man stood there I felt no shock.
I had been expecting this, he said he’d be back, but
I didn’t know he’d be visible completely sober of the
mushrooms.
“Hello Dumdum.”
“Go away.”
“You still have to make a wish. I want off this God-
damn
rock, and you are not going to gyp me.”
“You fucking madman, go away, I can’t help you.”
“Make a wish!”
“I wish you would contract some sort of venereal
disease and pass it on to each of your underdeveloped
children!”
This little man had done nothing to me, and I don’t
know why I had such a distaste for him. Maybe because
he was the closest thing to God I had ever actually
looked at. He frowned as he placed a glowing wand to
his genitals.
I was immediately sorry for what I’d done, but it served
the little bastard right. You don’t give to people that are
content with what they have. It’s not right.
The airport burst back into it’s unforgiving mechani-
cal busy-ness and Trixy had already finished with her
momentary glee psychosomatically brought on by the
arrival of a penis that had been only slightly missed. We
talked about the weather to one another, though every
now and then I would throw in odd comments about
suicide and pederasty just to make sure she was not
listening.
It was nice getting back to our apartment. I had
[37]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

missed the silver color surrounding my television screen.

I’d missed the window overlooking the stretch of road
on which a lunatic would wander down screaming to-
ward
the torturing voices only he could hear at least two dif-
ferent
times during each day. Most of all I missed the things
that happened behind closed doors, when Trixy’s mus-
tache was almost invisible as she informed me with
sudden bursts of energy that I indeed had something to
offer the world. A skill.

Chapter III
I awoke early the next morning feeling the stomach
knot that foreshadowed a discovery I was soon to make.
In Trixy’s place was a note lasting three pages, that when
summed up said, “So long, I appreciate your good inten-
tions.”
Problems in her life had led her to a sort of innate
whoredom that my southern ethics could not tame. I
understood that and maybe that’s why I loved her. As
much as I could love anyone other than myself. I loved
her with a passion for B-movie plot lines and sushi. I
loved her like a father that had no interest in watching
his little baby grow up, but who when faced with the
fact that he was not her natural father at all, adopted a
queasiness that would never leave his broken heart.
She hadn’t been living with me long before I left on
the short visit to my homeland, and it seemed she had
moved the few pieces of her clothing from the closet
sometime during said visit to the heart of Dixie. The
note was a simultaneous weight off my shoulders and a
punch in my gut. Wounded pride with a dash of imag-
ined freedom. I couldn’t decide if I was experiencing
[38]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

true happiness
or revulsion for what I was. I would later look back on
the feeling as ‘the madness,’ and realize it was yet an-
other stepping stone to my evolution from super-chim-
panzee to comic book hero: The one that both stole and
gave to the destitute.
“Hello Dumdum.”
The green man was back. This time looking more
melancholy than before.
“What is it now?”
“Do you want a wish granted?”
“I wish you would take that stupid wand and jab out
one of your eyes.”
I stared him down as he did what he was told. I won-
dered who it was giving him orders to follow my facti-
tious demands.
“Why do you come here? Why do you do this to
yourself ? Are you the masochist, or is it someone else?”
He vanished without so much as a goodbye, leav-
ing me to start crying like a prepubescent schoolgirl. I
wasn’t isolated anymore, but God was I lonely.
I gave my friend Lucas a call. I asked him if he want-
ed to meet up at RT’s, a local bar, at around nine p.m..
He told me he couldn’t. I then opened my address book
and dialed every shoulder I could think might have a
soft spot for me to dribble on. It seemed everyone had
plans today, and why shouldn’t they? What else were
they good for? I felt the sudden urge to urinate on my
mattress; that it would represent some sort of holy re-
bellion. I regretted following my urges most of the time.
This was no exception.
Sinking down onto my piss stained bed I knew it was
time for a change. Time to stop following a set path in
an idiosyncratic way and take off for true self-under-
standing.
[39]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

It would demand I sacrifice my palace of electronic

gizmos and the unrestrained joy I got from making an
occasional
A on a paper I’d not put any effort into, but I was ready.
I picked up my Bible, repacked my suitcase with some
shirts, some pants, a jacket, and a copy of Helter Skel-
ter. I was going to rush at infamy head on and pursue
my dark transcendent dreams. I became almost giddy
at the thought of a healthy voluptuous blonde drinking
the blood of a victim I’d ordered her to kill. The sick
thoughts made me smile, not because I held some sort
of maniacal want for power, but because of an absurdity
equaled in my mind only to images of schnauzers danc-
ing in pink tu-tus singing now forgotten songs by Seal
and Paula Abdul.

Chapter IV
First I would stop by the park. I shouldn’t have been
ready for the insight a place like that can give a man
when he isn’t expecting it. A man in my position could
see more than frisbees and dogs running from here to
there. I saw bottled humanity, I saw the limits set by
the forces that be from allowing most people to become
themselves. The sexual frustrations of boys who hadn’t
learned to become men as they interacted with teenage
women who couldn’t remember when a maturing pro-
cess had taken place. The gap was widening as modern
lifestyle trudged on. What kept the males in pre-pu-
bescence was the same thing that demanded girlhood
refrain from existing more than a moment.
I wore a corduroy vest. I always wore a vest because
it kept me from being an insider. It freed me from being
denied insight into the lives of these peons I overlooked
from a bench, sitting there like a god over them. Most
[40]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

of the time when I cradled myself up in a room, alone,

while all those that pretended to be close to me slept,
I envied these WASPs. Middle-Americans comfortable
with their lot in life, or trying to demand that comfort
was what they felt. I knew inside, all of them were ani-
mals, just like me. Animals I could control by taking this
holy knowledge and stuffing it deep into my pockets.
I lit a cigarette as I stretched myself out on the
solitary bench under a tree. I heard the sound of soft
footsteps gliding upon the grass right behind me and I
turned around. My glance was welcomed with a smile
from a beautiful young girl who couldn’t have been more
than eight-teen. I stopped myself from saying anything,
I simply smiled and turned back in the direction I was
looking. She, with her two dogs ambled out to where a
small lake met the field, and from time to time would
look back at me.
I kept a close watch from the corner of my eye as
the first man appeared. Fat and goofy he approached,
dressed like a good number of young men I had known.
Clothes his grandmother had bought wrinkled and dirty
because he never quite had the time to find a laundro-
mat. He met with great defeat as he tried to mumble out
some words silently preying they would come to have
some meaning as they scampered helplessly out of his
mouth. It seems God was not smiling upon this par-
ticular man, on this particular day, because as he walked
away his head hung just low enough to the ground that
I could tell he had added a tally to his scoreboard of
personal disaster.
Next came a slight improvement on the first suitor.
A man with dark skin and an athletic build. He came
with two dogs that I’m sure he was happy to compare
with the duo accompanying this girl-next-door-fantasy
he stood before. She was obviously more taken with him
[41]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

but she continued to look back at me from time to time.

Perhaps at moments when the second suitor said some-
thing about his hair or the hands he was so proud of.
Eventually though, this man would find more happiness
walking away then he would with adding another person
to his sure to be long list of acquaintances all in constant
need of being dealt with.
The girl now alone in this playing field of empty per-
sons
interaction began to walk back in the direction from
whence she had come. Now that the brothers grim had
warmed her up, I knew I had no choice but to speak my
piece.
“Beautiful day,” I commented
“I like your vest!” She replied.
“Thank you, cute little dogs you have there,” I said
“This one’s Freddy, and this one is Cougar,” she re-
plied.
Something in the air smelled of sulfur. I couldn’t
decide
if it was brought on by a strange retro ambiance the
combination of her dog’s names gave to my subcon-
scious, or some sort of burning in my soul to destroy this
gentle creature, but it was there.
I continued with conversation by introducing my-
self as Normon Osbourne. I complemented, in a round
about way, every nice thing I could notice with our lim-
ited interaction.
I didn’t spell anything out for her, chicks don’t dig that.
They don’t want to know when they’re having the wind
blown up their skirts.
“I don’t want to sound like I’m some Bible thumper,
but I’ve been thinking about religion a lot lately and you
seem like you have a certain level-headed-ness about
you, not to mention the way the light hits those eyes has
[42]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

me hoping I could talk to you for hours, even days.”

This was the moment where I would find out if my
plan was too outrageous to even begin, but with a nod of
a head, a blush and a smile I knew that my twisted grip
was tightening on what only three minutes ago was a
total stranger.

Chapter V
My army was growing In three days I had somehow
managed to turn three lost souls into lunatics ready to
follow my cool blue reason into a do-it-yourself Arma-
geddon.
I hadn’t said much; I let their understanding of my
words turn into their deepest desires. I’d always had a
gift for skewing what people said into a jigsaw piece that
fit perfectly into my already carefully put together bor-
der of insanity. I could turn a God-fearing man into an
atheist one day, and the next cause the scientific mind to
place all blind faith into Jesus Christ. My experiment of
trying to explain to people I was God was going all too
well, and I was hooked.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone, not at that point any-
way. I just wanted to feel loved. You can’t accept love,
it’s not a gift. While the rich man bought it, the crazed
genius would find a way to take it, as he didn’t have any
choice. I craved the living water, and like the alcoholic I
was feeling as though I was beginning to need it. Would
it cost me my soul, or just a few scratch marks over my
name in
the lamb’s book of life?
The madness was coming on. I had been following
my plans to a tee. I had created objectivity and this new
form of development was under my control. Soon, that
control
[43]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

would be lost, and the devilish synchronizations of the

lunatic would rule my path once again. I invited the
madness though, even with the powers of God I re-
mained unsatisfied emotionally, so I would make my sac-
rifice willingly by filling my mind with powerful words
of the muddled Zeus that swept from genius to junkie
in a notice of momentary angst. When the green man
returned, as I knew he would, my fight would be over. I’d
make the wish he so dared me to have granted.
As soon as this realization had been made the man re-
appeared on my shoulder with his one eye and withered
scrotum tucked tightly somewhere beneath his space-
age jumpsuit. I waited for him to start his whimpering,
his need to beg for any kind of sick blessings I might
possibly offer him. He merely stood there with a smirk
rising toward his new galactic eye-patch.
“Well? Do you want me to make a wish, or are you
just
going to stare at me with that one eye you have left?”
No response but silence. I decided to speak up again.
“I wish I could go back to my freshman year of col-
lege. I wish I’d never met Trixy, I wish I’d never fucked
Cathy, I want to make better choices, I don’t want to
do what I know I’m capable of if these past two years
haven’t been a dream.”
The swine removed his eye-patch revealing a healthy
bright eyeball. I hoped he wouldn’t drop his shorts be-
cause
I knew if he did have anything down there it could
probably function however he might want it to. Before
I could ask him the meaning of this tomfoolery he was
gone.
Someone or something wanted me to slip over the
edge. I’d once believed in serendipity, but now it seemed
doom was a much better example of what happened to a
[44]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

man when he shed the innocent mask of boyhood. I was

doomed, but I wouldn’t sink alone, I’d bomb whatever
harbor I could accumulate with my currency of mental
disease.
“Normon?”
It was Bonnie, volunteer hostage number two. A fine
looking number of Irish origin, she had offered us all
lodging at her beach-front home indefinitely. Somehow
I had convinced her that not only should she share her
home with me, but I was worth sharing her body with.
I’d say:
“Who do you say that I am?” and with that she would
get down on her knees and explain it, and no, she wasn’t
washing my feet.
“Get away from me!”
I couldn’t look at her in the face, not now. I was sorry
I had done any of this, taken advantage of the weak
minded. I knew the time to get out of this thing was
now, but maybe I could help these people. Them mistak-
ing me for some sort of god or prophet would have to
cease, but surely I could ease my way out of it, and in
the process make some really interesting connections,
maybe even start some radical and thriving business
venture. I just needed some space, everything was hap-
pening too fast.
“I’m sorry I shouted Bonnie, but you no doubt under-
stand I’m faced with certain mental anguishes you could
not possibly understand.”
“Don’t apologize master, I am your humble servant.”
Jesus, it was like the dirty films they’d show on cable
television late at night when I was a boy. These poor
Ivy League bimbos would not only sell their bodies for
money, but also for a soul. This was wrong.
“I’ve got to go for a while. I may be gone a week,
maybe a month, but I will be back. Understand?”
[45]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Of course.”

I always tried to see myself as a modern day Fitzger-

ald,
but I am now feeling that society has no place for my
talent.
I didn’t hate this five page novel I had written, but this
is not the story I wanted to finish. Why communicate
using
a narcissistic, well read Charles Manson? One should
embrace the everyman, not the ubermensch.
I did like the addition of the camouflaged Flinstones
character in the story. I decide to write a story about
Freddy from Scooby-Doo.

Ascot
by Conrad Conner

Freddy Jones. The sound of it rolls off as nothing

more than a supporting role in this circular existence. I
have become an illustration for change. I am a central
figure in a world that is loved, but important only in the
fact I must exist. This is the only way anyone sees me.
They question me, their need for me, and sometimes
suspect I need not exist at all, yet when they insist on
removing me from the equation their world suffers. So I
am here. I always will be, but nobody can place a finger
on the question as to why.
I explain this to Dr. Thompson, my analyst, and he
braces himself. The neurotic with vast understanding is
always the one that is never quite cured. The neurotic
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 TH E / D E S PAI R

Freddy Jones knows this, and this makes prescribed

treatment an impossibility.
He asks me about my father and my mother. He asks
me about the girls I’ve been with, about my fantasies:
sexual and otherwise. My answers are routine, and just
as suspected they lead to nothing. I explain I’m just a
dream in the collective unconscious, but Thompson
doesn’t believe
that sort of thing.
Time runs out and it’s back to my strange vocation of
filling time between important moments. Driving this
van
and saying whatever comes through, hearing laughter
that laughs with my friends, but at me. The gang, a label
I’ve given to my fellow nomad travelers, are just like any-
one else. I know this because each has his or her follow-
ing. Each has a reason. I just drive this van.
I have another automobile, but it sits in front of
my parents house. I can never get myself to drive it. A
pick-up truck painted in blues with the word, “Abraxas,”
on the side. It makes trips only to the world, to under-
standing, but I choose to leave it broken and forgot-
ten. I spend days looking at it sometimes, without even
informing my parents of my homecoming. I hide as I
watch it, this stationary object that offers me a way out
of my painless suffering into a painful life.
All the monsters I’ve seen have faces, except for the
one that stares at me from the lake, or the wall, or the
concave surface of my spoon. There is no mask to re-
veal something different, just an empty smile bringing
to mind parting gifts of the man who could not give the
question’s correct answer.

[47]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Boring. This is like some clever person Hallmark

card. Look I know enough about Scooby-Doo and Gnos-
ticism that I can juxtapose them. Slap my ass and call me
Desecrates.
I’m sick of writing and trying to write, so I stop. I
haven’t eaten today and it is now eleven p.m.. I wish
there was a fast food restaurant that could serve me
my mother’s roast beef and gravy for three dollars and
ninety five cents. There isn’t. I decide to drive to Jack in
the Box and get a number six meal. I ask them to super-
size it. I am feeling desperately wasteful on this day of
frustrating discovery.
My cell phone rings while I wait in line for the jumbo
jack. I check the number and see it is Clara, the ex. She
leaves a cryptic sounding message that she and her new
boyfriend will be at California State University at Long
Beach’s campus with my banjo tomorrow at four-thirty.
That this is my only chance, and I am not to call her
anymore. She says a defamatory comment on the web
site I write for about her aureola did not go unnoticed.
I’m not looking forward to finally meeting this new
boyfriend face to face, yet there is this feeling inside me
that knows he must be no more than a disturbingly unat-
tractive
doppelganger of my present self. I am Bizarro to my
love’s new Superman. We like the same bands, but he has
reasons behind his love. We enjoy the same books, but
he reads them to pronounce a state of mind. He writes
pages and pages on his views and your societal needs. He
wants you to take a stand. I want to kick his ass, but I
know I won’t. I will take my banjo and sell it so I can pay
rent this month.
I approach the window where I am to give a woman
six dollars and in return I get a warm meal. I fumble
around in my pockets for too long, emotional from lis-
[48]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

tening to the message, still a little stoned. I feel like the

small Latino woman handing me the greasy paper bag
hates my hair. I wonder what I can do to fix it.
I make the four minute drive back to my apartment.
Still I can’t find a solution to the question posed by
those eyes. I apologize to myself and I think about prey-
ing for guidance.
I put The Sure Thing in the DVD player and it makes
me feel romantic. I pretend to be John Cusack and I get
good and stoned to watch the last half hour. What my
parents would think of me right now. I shudder, and am
thankful I had watched enough late night talk shows to
get through the phone calls with little to no problems.
The movie ends so I feel like I should write. I’m feel-
ing really emotional now, like I want to write something
about a girl that I know. Maybe she’ll read it.

----------

The Road to Centinella

by Conrad Conner

When Ronnie took Lana’s place as my roommate, I

wasn’t the boy he remembered from high school. When
I lost Lana I wasn’t exactly sure who I was. Being with-
out an identity might have been depressing if I hadn’t
been so numb. It was as if I had reached sexual climax
and was expected to become aroused again.
Lana was my first serious relationship, and for almost
eight months I had spent every day and every night in
her presence. Like a mythological villainess she had put
some sort of spell over my judgement, forcing me to first
transfer from one school to another, from one state to
another,
she then had me drop out all together. This wasn’t
[49]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

enough for the evil that had waited for a numbskull like
myself somewhere deep in her subconscious. She found
a way to make it impossible for me to walk out of our
two bedroom apartment, she convinced me I didn’t need
anyone but her, and with that she was gone. Back to the
father that had kicked her out of the house, anywhere to
get away from the victim she completely destroyed.
Imagine if Superman had been forced into the real-
ization that Lois Lane was slipping him small amounts
of kryptonite during each meal they had together; once
he was so weak he could no longer serve his purpose she
packed her bags and moved away. Do you know what
would happen next? Powerless Superman would become
confused and depressed and his love affair with mari-
juana would begin. I’m a bird, I’m a plane, I’m flying
again even though I’m just sitting around and watching
Becker.
Mary Jane is a strange mistress. She causes days to
run together and engulfs your sense of time, rather than
pushing it forward so you don’t realize you are already
dead. We were Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton,
but as time passed and my ability to interact with so-
ciety crept back into being, we became more like Jerry
Seinfeld and Elaine Bennis. Two friends that understood
each other, without having to say too much about it.
Nature took its course. If I refused suicide I would have
to do certain things to allow me the will to survive. First,
I established a relationship with Ronnie Cross, which
was made easier by the fact we had been acquaintances
at the Boddington’s School for Boys. We had shared
friends, but somehow had distanced ourselves from each
other, as if we knew we needed to save our special bond
for a moment in our lives when we would honestly need
it.
A month went by.
[50]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Ronnie had gathered the courage to make contact

with the two cute girls next door. They weren’t “actress
cute,” or even “model for a Target ad cute,” but they
were in possession of that sort of attractiveness you can
see deep inside their eyes. Where you remember a girl
like them coming into the third grade classroom with
way too much makeup and even though some of the girls
made fun of her you thought she was nice.
Their southern accents were thick, and their culture
had been sheltered from the absurdities and madness
of logic. They line danced and rolled on ecstasy, they
fucked and they toked. They were characters I had not
seen developed to this level and they were interesting. I
still didn’t have a job.
Another month.
Paige and Beth were gone. Ronnie and I had devel-
oped
no romantic connection to them, yet a week or so after
they vanished we realized we needed them. The apart-
ment complex seemed vacant to us, especially me on
account that I don’t often want to leave my room. I was
prescribed some medication to alter said desire, but I
don’t really have any inclination to get it filled.
I began to drive to Rutheford, TN, my definitive
home, on the weekends where my new persona, psychi-
cally bruised, bothered my parents. Hearing sobs at
random moments throughout the day didn’t sit well with
them. I remember one weekend they decided we would
use a day
to see a family psychologist. I can’t remember what the
psychologist said to us, I just remember the car ride
back home. My father was crying and my mother was
blaming me, trying to soothe my father with the words,
“We aren’t bad parents, we aren’t bad parents.”
Doctors now seemed out of the question when deal-
[51]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ing with my newly developing eccentricities. My parents

were quiet around me, which wasn’t hard as I sat each
weekend
alone on the screened in porch with the Sopranos and
the town of South Park. I would drive back to Ridge
Blanket
to spend my weekdays, because there was a lease I
couldn’t break.
The Ronnie Cross subplot became more interesting
with the introduction of Katie. She had befriended Ron-
nie
a few years before and had reintroduced herself at a local
bar. To me she looked like Natasha Henstrige, the se-
ductive alien from the grossly underrated Sci Fi thriller,
“Species.”
She would talk with me, and laugh at things I would say,
then Ronnie would take her. Like some sort of alpha
male Mr. Cross would intercede at the perfect moment,
and I heard my own envy shaking the wall between the
two bedrooms. I could not let my feelings show, because
I
shuddered at the thought of inhabiting the character
of a loathsome fox that waits for a chicken to lay it’s
eggs and march away with a satiated stomach before the
mother can feel her baby chicks close to her feathers.
This strangely didn’t have an intense effect on my
friendship with Ronnie. I didn’t long for my lustful de-
sires
to come true the way I had when I was sixteen. I had
seen too much to care. My emotions were a part of my
desires, and they were still covered with dark red scabs
that I scratched at a little too often.
So what was I? The go between for a relationship
based on animalistic sexual needs, a bum living off his
parents, and a recluse. I remember looking in a mirror
[52]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

and realizing I had a full beard because I hadn’t both-

ered shaving. I was ready to get out of Tennessee, and go
where?

Nicholson keeps his device a secret. His brilliant

mind knows that if the others find out about it’s ca-
pabilities he will lose his allowance to escape into this
character. He had given Conrad and Hamilton the Tran-
scendence Machine, he owes them nothing. How can
they repay him for allowing them to attain all they ever
desired all in one single moment.
With the press of the small red button on the side
of his desk the monitor sinks back inside the wall. A
momentary burst of angst sweeps over Nicholson and
he looks behind him to make sure the lock on his door
remains secure. His secret is safe, and he decides to take
a short nap while listening to a song he puts on repeat.

The lease ran out and Ronnie and everything at-

tached
to him that made its way into my life, giving me the
illustration I would hold of Ridge Blanket Tennessee
forever were gone. The screened in porch on the side of
Rocktop Mountain became my daily fortress, not just
reserved for weekend vacations.
My inability to interact with others had been slowly
lifting, but now I felt it was back with some sort of
inappropriate vengeance. It was soon I would find out
that nature had not only taken it’s course with me. Ross
Hartley and Grahm Ashby, through some power I refuse
to acknowledge as coincidence were thrust back to their
[53]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

homeland as well. It seems Long Beach, Ridge Blanket,

New Jersey, and Kent County were not ready for the
young men I always envisioned as being the greatest
Rutheford had to offer.
A job was given to me. I became the assistant to a
gruff, but ultimately friendly highway sign painter. My
days were spent painting the words “See Calvary City,”
on several
barn roofs in the area, my nights were conversations
about my own history with those that had taken part
in it. A shared desire for doobies and bongs connected
myself and my old friends with new ones that were from
a different
place. Conversations turned to jam sessions at the local
head shop and I was satisfied for a while.

Nicholson wakes up to the sound of hammering fists

pounding against the door to his bedroom. Hamilton is
in a panic, which is nothing new. The past few months
both his and Conrad’s eccentricities had been magnified
in a not so magnificent way. Nicholson believes they may
be suspicious of him because he is able to handle him-
self so well, yet in reality Nicholson is the farthest thing
from their minds.
“Nicholson! Its Conrad!” Hamilton shouts.
“What do you mean ‘Its Conrad?’” Nicholson re-
sponds, still groggy from his nap that had been cut
short.
“I have a note.” Hamilton breathes as Nicholson al-
lows access to the bedroom.
Conrad’s note reads as follows:
Dear Hamilton and Nicholson.
You are my dearest friends, but I cannot live here
[54]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

anymore, and thanks to this place I don’t believe I

would be able to function back in the real world,
even if that was somehow possible. I found your
book Nicholson, the book that explained the
infinite possibilities the Transcendence Machine
still holds. I have transferred my soul into that of a
blue jay. A mortal blue jay with a brain no bigger
than my thumb. I am gone forever, but do not
doubt in my happiness.
Your pal, Conrad Conner.
Nicholson slams the door.
“Come back in an hour Hamilton. I need to be alone
for a while,” he says.
•
I watch Rachel Grey pull out of her parking space
alongside the road across from my apartment. As she
turns off Pacific Ave I light up one of the Marlboros
Matt had paid ten dollars for last night in a bar in Bever-
ly Hills. I decide to walk to the Rite Aide and buy some
scented candles and a pack of Pall Malls. I had been buy-
ing Pall Malls lately because Johnny Depp was smoking
them in the last movie I saw him in.
If I were empathic I’d guess something I did or said
reminded Rachel of something that made her sad. When
she got out of the car about three hours ago she had a
smile that told me she was ready to start the day. That I
was a major part of that day. That I would make for a day
that she would enjoy.
I had talked to Rachel on the phone a lot about six
months ago when I was still in Bloxide, Tennessee. She
was a friend of a friend’s girlfriend, and somehow our
voices were introduced and it seemed they were in a very
similar place.
Her voice explained she had loved a boy and couldn’t
explain why. My voice responded with the assurance I
[55]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

had loved a girl and maybe still did and I was reason-less
as well. Our conversations gave me a feeling I remember
having as a child, it was a feeling I missed, a feeling I
wanted to have every day.
My friend Ben Benson lived about half an hour away
from where Rachel lived. My reasons to come visit him
seemed logical to everyone, but my real reason I knew
didn’t make much real sense. My real reason was a voice
on a telephone that gave me some sort of goal.
I don’t have any goals that make a lot of sense to me
right now. Trying to be an actor and writer so my parents
can tell people at the church they go to that they created
something important. This goal didn’t make sense to me
but every minute of every day it hammers at me with
such strength I cannot ignore it.
When I came to visit Ben I met Rachel at a Mexican
restaurant. Actually seeing her face really frightened me.
For the first time I didn’t know what to say to her and
our hour long encounter consisted of the sound a mouth
makes when it is closed and chewing as well as a short
visit to a thrift store. I almost broke down on my way
back to Ben’s. I remember it taking a lot longer to get
back than it had taken to get where I had gone.
I went back to Tennessee, but not for very long. Ben
and I now live five minutes away from each other here
in Santa Monica, CA. I decided to call Rachel again the
first night I got here, she seemed shocked to hear from
me as we hadn’t spoken since our face to face introduc-
tion, but she didn’t seem bothered. I’ve called her about
six times since I’ve been out here; she’s called me twice.
Not once did the conversation last more than a few
minutes, but she finally took some time out for a second
meeting. A meeting that I have no doubt was our last.
On my way to Rite Aide an Asian woman was walk-
ing toward me. She was in her mid-thirties. She looked
[56]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

bright and healthy, she wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t

seem down. She wore a pink shirt and jeans, she ap-
peared normal.
As I passed her she changed somehow. I sensed it, so I
turned around and she was looking at me.
“Girls go for the science and math guys, not the hu-
manities majors.” She said.
I thought I must have been dreaming at that point.
I think I said, “Thanks,” but mumbled it to myself. I
then walked by a small church. It was the Culver City
Church of God, and I looked at their sign expecting to
see announcements of service times, events, maybe the
pastors name. Instead, in the middle of this blank and
holy billboard
was my middle name, the name I go by. It had no expla-
nation. It was just there, alone.
I made it to Rite Aide and wondered why I hadn’t
said more to Rachel after the movie. I tried to make
small talk by comparing some ice someone had spilled
on the road to a song about frozen semen by the pro-
gressive rock band, Primus. She laughed, but chose not
to move the conversation along. She had to get home
and write a paper
about how art and music should be a stronger force in
the elementary school systems. It seems she told me that
more than once on the short drive back to her car that
was across from my apartment.
With a bag holding Pall Mall filters and two scented
candles I made my way back to Pacific Ave. I walked
behind a Mexican boy and his mother. He held her hand
and would look back at me and smile, like he hoped
maybe when he was grown up I’d be one of his friends. I
wondered what things he would see in his life that would
make that an impossibility. I wondered if he will be
happy. I hope he will be.
[57]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

I unlock my door and place the candles strategically

in my room. I glance out my window thinking Rachel
might have driven back to tell me something that she
just had
to tell me. I don’t recognize any of the cars except for
my own, so I shut the blinds and light each one of my
candles.
My room still smells like cigarettes.

Nicholson walks out of his room. It has now been

four hours since he heard the news. Hamilton hadn’t
bothered
coming back by. It is Thursday which means Conrad’s
weekly theater show is about to go on. This time it is to
star Spencer Tracy and Bernadette Peters as two love-
struck astronauts that have crash landed in Alaska after
a moon mission. Nicholson had been looking forward to
seeing the penguins that had been altered to have acting
abilities that would shame Sir Lawrence Olivier.
When Nicholson gets to the playhouse he sees that
Hamilton is the only person there. He sits alone in the
middle of the place transfixed on what is being projected
in front of him. A film is playing, the Pink Panther,
Hamilton’s favorite Nicholson guesses. The wife he had
asked for looked exactly like one of the film’s starlets,
Claudia Cardinale.
It seems odd to Nicholson that Hamilton enjoys watch-
ing the face of a woman he had locked in a room some-
where on the ninth floor last month.
Nicholson sits down and watches for twenty minutes,
he then returns to his room without letting his fellow
audience
member know he was there.
[58]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

The Room, a bar for Hollywood hipsters. I got the di-

rections from Vince Vaughn’s commentary on the Swing-
ers DVD. The Room is particularly empty tonight. This
is the first time I am here alone. I order a Heinekin and
relive tonight’s happenings.
Snatch is the name of the event that takes place Mon-
day nights at a club called Level Three, located in the
complex
off Hollywood and Highland. Ben’s roommate is one
of the hip-hop DJs. He plays remixes of Outkast, Run
DMC, and that song about how this chick’s milkshake is
better than your milkshake is. Every night my ears can’t
help but listen for Herman’s Hermits or the Beach Boys;
a personal allowance to comprehend the secrets of my
own alienation.
My eyes are always open in these clubs, and it seems
that everyone has turned off all senses once defined as
conscience.
I am the worst of them though, because I have har-
nessed the power of defending myself against the shal-
low. They are my natural enemy, but instead of setting
up camp in the outskirts, I live among them trying to
destroy from inside.
Perhaps that’s how each of us inside the club feels. I am
different. I am the one in a million, the diamond in the
rough.

The door springs open and Nicholson feels the quick

panic of unavoidable revelation, but he cannot turn it
off.
[59]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

What do you mean you have something to give?

What are those wires attached to you, is this some kind
of virtual reality game you are playing?

I don’t know what this girl is talking about, she is vis-

ibly drunk, but I almost feel like the strange jargon she’s
throwing out is coming from my own head.

This poor excuse for a story. This disjointed mess of

scribble makes me want to rip my heart out from my
chest. I have never tried so hard to be honest, but it’s all
a mess, every bit of it. I seem to have an uncanny ability
to take the most beautiful, sincere feelings in my soul
and turn them into the ramblings of a mongoloid.
I’m lost, lost in this story. It’s four am, and I’m get-
ting tired now. I know when tomorrow comes I will not
look on what I have written as anything worth my own
time, much less anybody elses.
Maybe I’ll work with this one. Maybe I can fix it. To-
morrow I will completely change it, from there move it
on to completion. It will be two-hundred pages of good
solid eloquence, and the Pulitzer Prize goes to Conrad
Conner.

Conrad Conner
University Honors Program 150
[60]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Zoo Story

I found this story to be a nice change of pace from

Beckett.
Rather than a cerebral illustration of the monotony
found in the whole of each human experience we are
presented with a social commentary that is lively and
more universally comic. Though Beckett found much
of his humor on the silent screen, and vaudeville, he
used these tactics to further the blackness of his com-
edy, while Albee uses it with more of a laugh out loud
sort of result. Albee’s play doesn’t become dark until
the conclusion while Beckett began with slow footsteps
and dead corpses. I found it interesting how the hero of
Zoo Story was not whom one would expect. It was the
crazy out of touch character the audience is meant to
admire more than the “normal,” man who most able to
see or read this play are meant to identify with. In the
same way these characters can be looked at as the same
person. A man who took in one reality the road everyone
takes and in a second reality the road of nonconformity.
On the outside each is not deserving of one slice of
envy, but the audience gets the feeling that maybe if the
normal could embrace some nonconformity, maybe the
world could be a bit more comfortable. If certain deeply
embedded rules could be weeded out there might be
more excitement in life.

I didn’t realize I was blameless until I got to college,

where I was introduced to the most corrupt of charla-
tans:
Dostoyevsky, Schopenhaur, Sartre. I did my reading, and
all it did was confirm my suspicions. I am surrounded by
[61]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

fools.
I want to tell my story, but I just want you to hear it,
and I imagine you are right there, and I am telling you
every word. But how can you listen to something that
goes on for more than five minutes? You wouldn’t, you’d
walk away, you all walk away every time I take too long
to tell you what I feel.
I haven’t eaten in two days, but I’ve had plenty to
smoke and plenty to drink. What a strange world that
offers one such ability. Without a dime to my name I
was allowed into one of my own nightmares. Images of
the elderly in drag, large hulking women sniffing lines off
leather-clad hermaphrodites. Pictures I imagined were
locked away in the dark recesses of men offering me as
much booze as I needed.
Southern California is surreal. Life seems ridiculous
to me in this place.

It’s morning again... well for me. It’s four o’clock in

the afternoon and yesterday is just a pure blur. I see on
my computer screen this page of nonsense I wrote the
first time I tried psychedelic mushrooms. Is this non-
sense or is this that transcendent sort of thinking that
leads to schizophrenia?
I turn on my CD player which currently holds assort-
ed greatest hits from 1976. I put on a song about ‘Satur-
day Night,’ by a Scottish band. They sound like a good
time to me. Out of appreciation I try to force it on
myself. I dance around my room with some sort of reck-
less abandon. I wish there was a mirror so I could watch
myself acting so ridiculous, but I haven’t taken the time
to go buy one, and I don’t really have money for some-
thing like that. I sign on my parents internet account
to see if anyone from back home is logged in. An old
classmate is and tells me he has a story for me. That he
[62]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

is dating some beautiful woman with a child, and she is

trying to trick him into getting her pregnant. He doesn’t
know much about her except that she tells him she is an
agent for the DEA. The story becomes more and more
detailed, and I don’t lose interest, but I’m not sure what
he’s talking about anymore.
I miss him, as I know enough of a life-narrative to inter-
est myself: he drives an ambulance now, his claim to
infamy is that of the sweetest man on the face of the
planet. We used to sit up at night and talk about insane
things nobody else in the world would understand.
We would sit out on the deck discussing why the
world was the way it was. It made a lot of sense then,
but while I try to take lessons from those conversations
with me; I can’t remember them here.
I sign off of the internet conversation application
after telling my old friend goodbye. I wonder what I will
do tonight, I pick up my phone and almost call this girl
I slept with last week, but then I start feeling depressed
that I had sex with a girl I didn’t even know. Why would
I want to relive that? All that goes into that.
I drive to the Santa Monica Promenade and buy a
pack of Vanilla (brand name) cigarettes. The promenade
is this outdoor mall kind of place where all these people
perform on the street. I smoke three of my cigarettes
as I stand watching this Flamenco guitar player and
this beautiful girl who dances. She moves her hips and
stomach with a beauty that seems like it doesn’t belong
in this era. She emanates this classical beauty onto the
whole crowd. I take it in a while longer then I return
home and think about how I need to get a job tomorrow.
My cell phone rings. It’s Keifer. He tells me he’s worried
about me because he bought me lunch yesterday and I
somehow let it slip that it was the only meal I’d had in a
week. He then wants to know where all my money has
[63]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

gone. I don’t know what to say to him. He wants me

to come over so we can work on a ‘web site.’ I tell him
I will, yet hang up as he explains the business aspects.
The ins-and-outs.
Keifer is definitively successful. At twenty-one he is
the youngest computer animator working in the indus-
try, he says he looks like his favorite prime-time televi-
sion star, and he is never wrong. He can make the most
boring story seem out of this world, and it’s strange how
you don’t realize which of his stories are legitimately
interesting until two days after you heard them.
Tonight he tells me about a girl he calls CCD or, “Celeb-
rity
Cum Dumpster.” Apparently he had met this girl in an
Internet chat room, she sent him pictures, and they
talked. He says she called him today to make it known
that she had just been raped by one of the members of a
high profile boy-band. His story makes me uncomfort-
able, and I start thinking about my old neighborhood in
Ringgold Georgia.
I lived there until I was twelve years old. In the Wood-
lawn
subdivision my friend David and I would build forts out
in the woods, ride bikes, and play basketball. We would
watch TV and talk about pretty girls.
As Keifer continues to tell his story I remember
this time David and I were riding bikes on a trail in the
woods and we saw a kid, no older than us, dressed as a
Ninja hiding behind a tree. He just ran off when he saw
that he wasn’t going unnoticed. I’m imagining maybe he
was Keifer, and he’s been watching me forever. It starts
to spook me out, so before Keifer can start telling me
about the screenplay he wrote, I tell him I’m tired and
need to go home.
This is the end of this portion, but now I’m trying to
[64]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

figure out if I’m writing this down, saying it, or some-

thing else. There isn’t really anything else for me to
concentrate on, yet I feel like these words are all I have
seperating me from a being or entity that does not exist.
Keiffer? Should I say nothing more about him? I’m...
I’m sure I can, there... Stop reading it Harris, it will just
keep going if you don’t. Like a record, like... Goddamn it!
He’s saying what I’m saying before I’m saying it! Get the medic!
What do you mean what should you do?! Jesus Christ look at
him, sounding it all out while going into convulsions! Sedate!
Sedate! Doctor save the man! Save this ma...

[65]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

____Diabolicon____
CAPTION
“There are times when people love crime,” said
Alyosha thoughtfully.
“Yes, yes! People love crime. Everyone loves crime,
they love it always, not at some ‘moments,’ You
know, it’s as though people have made an agreement to
lie about it and have lied about it ever since, They
all say they hate evil, but secretly they all love
it.”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov
CUT TO -- FADE IN
CAPTION - Prologue
[66]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

FADE OUT -- FADE IN

A simply dressed OLD WOMAN and a young, hip 20-
something woman, ANNA, are seated side by side in a
first class cabin on an airplane, not looking at one an-
other. Anna reads a Harley Quinn COMIC BOOK. A
female FLIGHT ATTENDANT approaches them.
FLIGHT ATTENDANT
Would you ladies care for anything to drink?
OLD WOMAN AND ANNA (TOGETHER)
Ginger ale. Anna and the old woman laugh slightly
and take their drinks.
OLD WOMAN
I don’t mean to bother you, but you look so much like
my granddaughter. What’s your name... if you don’t
mind my asking?
ANNA
I’m Anna. Old woman and Anna limply shake,
woman says nothing more, Anna continues.
ANNA
Are you visiting the West Coast or returning home?
OLD WOMAN (LEANS IN)
I feel that if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.
ANNA
Why not?
OLD WOMAN
I’m very old, and my business in California is not an
older lady’s business.
ANNA
I’m not sure I follow.
OLD WOMAN
I’ve taken a lover, Dear; A married gentleman. We
meet twice a year for five days of togetherness, then I
go back to being a lonely widow. He goes back to
being the retired entrepreneur in a marriage of
platonic ennui.
[67]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ANNA
Your words are romantic, but it does sound like a
younger woman’s mistake.
OLD WOMAN
Yes my dear, but it’s no mistake. It invigorates the two
of us.
ANNA
Are you in love with this man?
OLD WOMAN
I am, I do believe more than my dead husband. There
is something about being a lover rather than a wife.
I’m aroused by masculine confessions my dear, am I
being too bold?
ANNA
Not at all. Go on, please.
OLD WOMAN
A word from the wise: All men are scoundrels. If you
meet a man that isn’t a scoundrel, you are no doubt
this man’s victim already.
ANNA
I may be young, but I think our cynicism resonates,
perhaps that is what you found familiar. I do believe
we both have gotten quite good at excuses for our
taste in men.
OLD WOMAN
I admit it, and I’ll admit even more. I’ve never
confessed my reasons for “vacationing, “ to anyone,
and I have no granddaughter.
ANNA
For now I have no confessions, but by the time I
return home, I fear that I will be condemned, but will
remain thankful that I am no victim.
OLD WOMAN
Then I shall leave you with your thoughts, but first a
toast. Both women raise their plastic cups of ginger
[68]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ale.
ANNA
To cold hearts and eloquent words.
OLD WOMAN
To snips, to snails, to puppy dog tails.
ANNA
May God have mercy on the good ones.
OLD WOMAN
For some of us never shall.
Women begin drinking.
FADE OUT
CREDITS
FADE IN
INT. DIABOLICON HOUSEHOLD - DAY
CAPTION -- 2 YEARS AGO
RICHARD DIABOLIOCON in bed, alarm clock goes
off,
Rich LEAPS from bed, clothed sans shoes and the tie
he quickly draws from dresser drawer, HURRIES into
adjoining bathroom, LOOKS in mirror.
RICHARD
Today’s the day, Dad’s been hinting for months ...(
Richard runs his hand through his hair) You are a
handsome devil Richard Diabolicon.
PAN to door frame on adjacent side of bathroom where
stands lanky, spectacled, shirtless CALEB holding lit
cigarette.
CALEB
Handsome, maybe, but hardly a devil, brother of
mine.
RICHARD
Get dressed for God’s sake, it’s not like you have
forgotten what today is.
RICH rushes out, CALEB takes place at mirror.

[69]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

CALEB
No, I haven’t simpleton, judgement day has been a
long time coming. (INHALES and EXHALES) Long
time coming.
CALEB winks at himself and leaves.
CUT TO
INT. DIABOLICON OFFICE - DAY
Shot of desk with CHAIR TURNED toward WIN-
DOW.
INTERCOM
Your boys are ready Doctor.
THEODORE
Send them in.
CUT TO RICH and CALEB walking two steps toward
camera and standing still. RICH wears conservative
outfit while CALEB wears LOUD suit sans a tie. CA-
LEB holds small BAG OF PRETZELS. Uncomfortable
SILENCE, RICH FIDGETING, CALEB is CALM.
CALEB (TO RICH/LOUD)
Pretzel? !
RICHARD (UNDER BREATH)
Try and take this seriously, Shit-Head.
CALEB
I’m just offering you a pretzel. Goodness. Shithead?
Do strong people really need such strong words Rich-
ard?
RICHARD (LOUD)
No thank you Caleb!
THEODORE (STILL TURNED AWAY)
Happy birthday boys. (turns chair) 21 years old, it
seems like only yesterday ...
CALEB (INTERRUPTING)
That we were tugging at your shirt-tails asking why
we were the only children at school without a mo
my?
[70]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

THEODORE
Shut your mouth, Caleb, I’m going to make this first
part brief. Today we decide the fate of my will, who
will be trained to take over the family business. I’m
going to read the computer dossiers on each of you.
Richard Steven Diabolicon: graduate of Tinsdale
University, major philosophy, top student in class,
four papers on Kierkegaard printed in various
publications, tutor for several students-some already
with masters degrees, President of Habitat for
Humanity Tinsdale Chapter, chess club captain ...
CALEB (INTERRUPTING)
Captain? And he’s never beaten me. Sleeping your
way up already you old hound-dog?
THEODORE
Caleb Cusack Diabolicon: dropout of Williamson City
College, lead singer and MOOG player for poorly
reviewed pop-band called ‘Misenthrope,’ sales
associate at East Coast music, still lives at home...
CALEB
What can I say, with today’s market, and my apparent
lack of ambition, I make sacrifices to live in a place
with a walk-in closet and pre-purchased groceries. You
make it sound like I’m lazy.
THEODORE
Caleb, you may leave. Rich you will be taking over
Diabolicon Industries.
RICH squints with EXCITEMENT, CALEB puts ARM
AROUND RICH, pulls out CIGARETTE.
CALEB
Congrats Rich, I can’t say the old man’s decision
surprises me. Dad, do you mind if I say something
before I go back to my room to play an acoustic
rendition of “It’s my Party?”

[71]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

THEODORE
Make it quick smart-ass.
CALEB (LIGHTS CIG)
I can’t promise quick Pops, but I can promise some e
lightening supposition. Rich did you know that the
majority of Dad’s company earnings come from illegal
drug trade with Cuba? Crack mostly, but some really
pure LSD for us eggheads.
RICHARD
Leave Caleb.
CALEB
Oh, you don’t believe me? Then why not take a look
at this amigo ?
CALEB TAKES a PAPER OUT OF his jacket POCK-
ET and HANDS to RICH, RICH SCANS document.
RICHARD
Dad, this is a lie isn’t it? (continues scanning) This is
bullshit, tell me this is bullshit .
THEODORE
Of course it is. Leave your brother and I alone for a
moment Rich.
RICH tries to TURN, but CALEB HOLDS his
SHOULDER.
CALEB
Oh, no-no-no Dad, Rich needs to hear this. The drug
shit’s just the needle in the haystack, not one of the
real gemstones. I was impressed when I saw what
really makes your company work. What makes it such
a worthy investment. You see, I got myself a mole,
Dad. While Rich was building houses for out-on
their-ass lowlifes, I was finding out that I’m heir to
the very corporation that’s putting them in that most
precarious of positions.
RICH is SHAKING still SCANNING DOCU-
MENTS, TEDDY OPENS DRAWER on his desk.
[72]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

THEODORE
Leave Rich!
RICHARD
Dad, this is legitimate. I can’t believe this, why Dad?
Why did you authorize all of these things?
THEODORE pulls out GUN from drawer.
THEODORE
I said leave Rich!
CALEB
Stand in front of me Brother! He won’t hurt the son
he loves.
RICH does as told, still SCARED.
CALEB (RAPIDLY)
Rich, I love you, and I’m proud of you, so I’m giving
you freedom from all this. You have a gift. Dad was
going to give it to you when it suited him, and by that
time it would have been too late, you’d be older, co
vinced this kind of deviant behavior was for the best.
CALEB takes out a walkie talkie.
CALEB (INTO WALKIE TALKIE)
Bring in Rich’s birthday present gentleman. TWO
large men in suits, identical to Caleb’s, come in
carrying a huge box wrapped in bold red paper.
CALEB
(sings)Happy Birthday to you ...( turns to LARGE
MEN) Boys, you’re not singing
MAN 1 (SWARMY)
Sorry boss.
MAN 2 (OBVIOUSLY STUPID)
Uh yeah,uh, sorry boss.
CALEB AND HENCHMEN
Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you.
Happy Birthday dear Richard! Happy Birthday to
you.

[73]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

CALEB
Dad, please, put the gun away.
Theodore Diabolicon looks at the scene in front of him
still emotional but suddenly with interest. Puts gun away.
THEODORE
What’s in the box, boy?
CALEB
We may never know Dad, that’s up to Rich. That’s
your cue boys.
CHARLIES
Ladies and Gentleman, it’s time for everybody’s
favorite gameshow What’s in the Box?!
BARNEY (READING FROM A SHEET OF
PAPER )
Brought to you by the, uh, sponsors at Diobolico, the
new company that brings the future ... brings the
future to, uh, to you.
CALEB (SWIFTLY)
Thank you for that heartfelt yet mediocre
introduction guys, especially you Barney, I know
reading is not your strong suit. Now Richard, the
game is simple you choose whether you want to open
this envelope and read the top secret documentation
or if you want what’s in the box? You can ask the
audience for help if you’d like.
RICHARD
Is this a dream Dad? What’s going on here.
THEODORE
It seems your brother has lost his mind, Richard.
CALEB
Enough belittling the host contestants, let’s discuss
the topic at hand.
RICHARD
Well, I’m not going to ask Dad anything else Caleb,
he’s obviously driven you insane, I’m still sort of in a
[74]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

state of shock, and I want to get out of here. What’s

in the box, I’ve read enough of your dirty
“documentation. “
CALEB
Did you hear that boys? He wants what’s in the box!
Charles and Barney start throwing confetti from their
pockets, Barney blows on a noise-maker.
CALEB
That’s your cue Rich, go ahead and open the box.
Rich opens the box, as he does Caleb narrates.
CALEB
That’s right ladies and gentleman it’s a brand new
Steamline Moto-trend tread mill! The Steamline
Company has been bringing us top of the line trea
mills since 1937, and this Motor-Trend is their latest
top of the line. Congratulations Richard, why not get
on.
THEODORE
Don’t get on it, Son. Richard stares defiantly at his fa-
ther and gets on the treadmill.
CALEB
And when I say the three magic words. . .
THEODORE
Caleb don’t!
CALEB
Execute speed genome! Rich begins running on the
treadmill and goes at such an intense speed the thing
breaks down.
CALEB
We don’t have a mother because we’re science
experiments Rich. Better yet, our destinies are
preordained, I was the failure: you can run faster than
any man alive, you can with complete control circle
the globe in minutes on foot. Are you going to use
that to be involved in further experiments for a
[75]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

corrupt family company, or are you going to do some

good? I thought you were the ethics expert.
THEODORE
You see what he’s trying to do Rich, he’s clever, but
he should know your not a fool.
RICHARD
No Dad, he knows I am a fool. My twin brother
knows me more than you can understand. And
suddenly Rich vanishes.
CALEB (TO FATHER)
Don’t worry Dad, he’ll be back. I know you are angry
with me right now. But, you didn’t realize my
potential. If this is going to be a battle for Diabolicon
Industries I have to play my hand, I...
THEODORE ( SAD )
Leave Caleb! Leave me alone.
CALEB
And I’ve already sold my half of the company old
man, I’ve got my own company now. If you don’t give
me Rich’s share, I’ll get it, one way or another.
Diabolic0 is the future. I’ll make sure of it.
Bureaucrat. That’s all you are. A bureaucrat, a devil,
and a fool. I’m leaving too. Come on boys.
The trio walks out the door
CUT TO
Caption: Part I - Human, All Too Human
FADE IN
Cartoon: Impressive SUPERHERO (NIGHT-
THRASHER) BATTLES an EYEBALL with teeth:
VILLAIN. Flying DOG in COSTUME flies around.
SUPERHERO PREVAILS, DOG URINATES on VIL-
LAIN.
NIGHT-THRASHER
Oh, Speedy, now you’re marking MY territory!
CUT TO
[76]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

INT. ADAM VAUGHN’S DEN

ADAM VAUGHN in BATHROBE and slippers SITS
on COUCH beside RICH DIABOLICON in T-SHIRT
and SMOKING JACKET eyes on TV.
RICHARD (MANIC)
I’m a dog, they made me a dog, why aren’t you a dog?
(Hesitation, then great ferver) Why am I a dog?!
ADAM
Wow, I knew this would be fun to watch, but I never
imagined it would be this hysterical. Haha, if only
real villains were so interesting. Imagine, fighting a
giant eye-ball with teeth. It’s so comical, well, it’s
almost tempestuous.
RICHARD
Do you even know what tempestuous means?
ADAM
Children love dogs, Rich. They’re endearing.
RICHARD
It means furious or turbulent, not “comical.” If dogs
are so endearing, why aren’t you a dog too?
ADAM
I’m not a dog, Rich.
RICHARD
And I am?
CUT TO ADAM just STARING at RICH, LOOKING
THROUGH him.
RICHARD
I’m not a dog, Adam.
ADAM
Why do you always have to be so ambivalent Richard?
RICHARD
You have no idea what you just said do you?
ADAM
Listen, I just wanted to have a good time tonight.
Some bonding time between the two of us. We’ve
[77]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

done a lot of good work, and we deserve some down

time, but apparently my sidekick is too.. .
RICHARD
What did you just call me?
ADAM
Now, hold on Rich, before you get all tempestuous.
RICHARD
You didn’t even graduate high school !
ADAM
Yeah, I was too busy saving the world from
international villainy!
Moment of silence.
RICHARD
I’m not a fucking sidekick. I come up with all our
plans, without me you’d never accomplish anything.
ADAM
Vulgarity isn’t necessary Rich, in fact, it’s ambivalent.
RICHARD
Go ahead Adam, or should I say Night-Thrasher the
almighty, tell me what ambivalent means!
ADAM
You are my sidekick! You can’t do anything but run
fast! You should be kissing my feet for even letting
you be so much! I don’t need you! You aren’t my
partner! You aren’t a hero! You’re my employee, my
backup. You are my sidekick!
Another moment of silence, ADAM LOOKS at RICH,
but RICH remains with his eyes staring forward.
RICHARD
Whatever Adam.
ADAM
I didn’t mean to lose my temper pal, I really didn’t.
RICHARD
It’s fine really. I’m going for a walk.
Adam watches Rich walk out the door then focus’ back
[78]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

on the TV, flips remote.

ADAM
Oh my God! Perfect Strangers! A blast from my past.
BALK1 (V.O. FROM TV)
Well, feed me garlic, and call me stinky.
ADAM (SERIOUS AND INTENSE)
That is hilarious.
FADE OUT
CUT TO
DARREN LIVINGSTON’S CLASSROOM - DAY
COLLEGE CLASSROOM filled with about 20 STU-
DENTS
DARREN
Today we will look at what I consider the
greatest work of philosophical value ever penned.
Friedrich Nietzsche’s “Ecco Homo” Would today‘s
lecture participants please come up front?
Four students ARISE from DESKS.
DARREN
Now, Bobby, you were supposed to research the
question, “Was Nietzsche a nihilist?” What was your
conclusion?
BOBBY
No... But I think he got high.
A couple girls giggle,, and three boys, obviously Bobby’s
friends also laugh.
DARREN
Alright, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but tell me,
was he a nihilist? If you don’t think so do you have a
legitimate reason as to why?
BOBBY
No?
DARREN
Bobby, do you know what a nihilist is?

[79]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

BOBBY
Yeah, we talked about those in high school. They are
like giraffes except they eat meat.
DARREN
Nihilism is a philosophical ideology, not some sort of
carnivorous, meat-eating zoo animal.
BOBBY
No, they eat grass too, multivores I think.
DARREN
Omnivores?
BOBBY
Right.
DARREN
Bobby, we need to talk after class. Anna, can you tell
me what an ubermensch is?
ANNA
Wait,, I don’t understand what a nihilism is?
DARREN
A nihilist, nihilism. I’ll explain later. Just tell me what
you concluded on Nietzsche’s idea of an ubermensch.
ANNA
Well, I called Bobby for help and I never got past
nihilism. I thought you probably needed to know
that before you went any farther, and I kept trying to
figure out what pot had to do with anything. There
was nothing in the back of the book about any sort of
animal, and long story short, I’m lost.
DARREN
Jesus Christ! Chuck? Daniel?
CHUCK (WHILE EATING FROM BAG OF
CHIPS )
I didn’t do it, sorry Teach.
DANIEL (WITH GREAT FEMINIINTY AND
BRITHISH ACCENT)
Well, I read the gay science, I didn’t understand a
[80]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

word. Was that bloke even bleeding gay?

DARREN
I hate my life.
DANIEL
Excuse me?
DARREN
I said “Artistic life.” Neietzsche pushes that one
should live to create a more artistic, albeit tragic
ideology of one’s self.
DARREN receives confused looks from everyone.
DARREN
Nevermind.
FADE OUT on DARREN focusing back in on the text,
and reading blankly from the pre-written lesson.
FADE IN
INT. MALL FOOD COURT - DAY
RICH WEARS SPORTS COAT and T-SHIRT walks to
a TABLE where sits ROSS, a friend. Short and chubby,
wearing similar clothing.
RICHARD
Sorry I’m late.
ROSS
No problem.
RICHARD
So I assume you saw the fucking cartoon.
ROSS
I recorded it, and with the insertion of “fucking, “ I
assume you didn’t like it. It’s all you’ve talked about
the last two months, at long last your own cartoon
show.
RICHARD
Well, that may be true, but I didn’t want to be a dog.
ROSS
And I also assume there is a reason you’ve said
something coming so mind-numbingly far from left
[81]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

field.
RICHARD
Allow me to reproduce the televised masterpiece’s
brilliant premise: Night-Thrasher, a gargantuan,
muscle bound muffin of stud is making well
constructed and properly placed insults. He is hurling
them, as well as his powerful fists at this eyeball with
a machete and fangs. Enter, stage left: poorly drawn
cartoon mutt flying around at super speeds and
eventually whizzing, yes relieving himself, on afor
mentioned eye-criminal. That’s right folks, thank
Christ for Speedy, the wonderdog.
ROSS
Ouch. (Beat). I guess it makes sense that children
would rather see a dog instead of a lanky twenty
something who can run fast. At least dogs are
endearing.
RICHARD
I’m not lanky! I’ve been working out, I can bench my
own weight. Well, almost.
ROSS
I’ve seen you at the gym, I wouldn ‘ t call that,
“benching”
RICHARD
Why the hell not?
ROSS
Because when you get on those machines all you do
is squirm around, move the bar thing up about hal
way three or four times and tell me you are done
with your “set.”
RICHARD
Listen, Ross, I really don’t need this today.
ROSS
What’s the matter?

[82]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

RICHARD
I‘ve been thinking, I mean, about Adam. He takes me
for granted. Sure, I can accept the fact my “super
powers’’ are, i n a word, questionable. I run fast . But
my job transcends this fact. Without me, how would
any strateg y or plans of rescue even come about?
Sure, he‘s the tool with the power to fly and zap
people with la srs from his eyes, lift buildings, all that
bullshit, but I am the brains. I decide when and
where to go. Without me, the guy would be spending
all his time in front of the mirror.
ROSS
Ah, the feeling of inadequacy. I can. . .
RICHARD (INTERRUPTING)
I‘m not inadequate though! Did you not hear a word
I just said? That‘s the way I‘m treated.
ROSS
I‘m sorry Rich, I wasn’t thinking. You just can‘t let
stuff like that get you down, you just have to look at
the big picture .
RICH (CUTTING OFF ROSS)
Sure, sure. Where is Darren, didn‘t you say he was
going to eat with us today?
ROSS
He had class this afternoon. I told you that.
RICHARD
I guess I forgot. It’s funny how you and Darren seem
to remain pretty close, even after you decided to
ditch teaching and go to seminary.
ROSS
Yeah, our friendship has definitely changed, but we
still keep in touch.
RICHARD
Sometimes I wish I’d just walked away from the
costumed justice bit, instead of the classroom. I was
[83]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

an idiot to think I could do both. My resume’s never

going to recover from a community college pinkslip.
ROSS
Don’t talk like that. You know you are doing a lot of
good, you have something no one else has, and you’re
using it to help people, most of which are complete
unknowns. Don’t act like you don’t know whether or
not you’re doing well.
RICHARD
Thanks Ross.
CUT TO
INT. RESTERAUNT - CALEB’S STUDY
A close-up of CALEB, holding a telephone, staring at
Picasso’s “Nude descending a staircase.”
CALEB (MORE AND MORE INTENSE AS
SPEECH CONTINUES)
Listen, I’m just going to be honest with you. What I
know about family is a childhood illustration
combined with a knowledge of myself. (PAUSE) But
what I know of me, I can’t just place on the heads of
others simply because I’m making some kind of
assumption. (Pause) Well, you know, maybe I can,
maybe I have to? (BEAT) Summarize? God, ok, Let’s
see... Dad: To the eyes of the world a billionaire
philanthropist, to the few that see reality the most
dangerous man in the world, but he’s not evil, he’s
just sort of delusional. More and more all the time.
Then there’s Richard. Dad watched me drive him
away, and I’m not sorry exactly, I just wish the guy
hadn’t been such a boy-scout. Following the rules
made him look smart, and my brother’s a moron...
And I envy him! You want to know why? He’s happy,
if my intelligence boys are right; Rich is... now get
this... Night-Thrasher, the California superhero. Rich
is his sidekick, and I guarantee you, he’s happy!
[84]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Heir apparent to the most profitable company in the

U.S. And he’s what? some high and mighty
douchebag’s lapdog ... but I guarantee you he’s happy.
(By this time there are tears in Caleb’s eyes) I
do love you, my darling. Thank God you love me too.
INT. ADAM VAUGHN’S DEN
RICH and ADAM back on COUCH. ADAM in cos-
tume STARING at RICH, RICH looking FORWARD.
RICHARD
Wow, did you see that woman we saved? God, she was
gorgeous! A real fox, you know?
ADAM
Did I see her? Of course I saw her. She was a som
what attractive girl. Nice body. Nice tits.
RICHARD (STARTING TO SOUND
FRANTIC)
What I wouldn’t do to run into a girl like that in
public. She had philosophy books in her hand. Do
you know the odds of finding an attractive girl
studying the existentialists? Do you know how many
times I’ve read, “Ecco Homo?” It’s a fsign, it’s got to
be.
ADAM
Calm down, just because some dame is reading an
automobile manual on some car you THINK, and I
stress the word think, you think you want to drive is
no reason to start making wedding arrangements.
RICHARD
Were you dropped on your head as a child? When
they took baby Night-Thrasher out of the little
galactic space craft in Tinyville they just, they
dropped you didn’t they? On your head?
ADAM
I’m from Dimension X Richard, I wasn’t born in a
space shuttle.
[85]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

RICHARD
I don’t want to know.
ADAM
I was five, playing with my neptonian reploid, and
BANG, suddenly I find myself zooming through this,
like, tunnel of light, I...
RICHARD
Adam, for real, have you ever run into any of the
beautiful women we’ve saved? Just out and about?
ADAM
Where is it you think you I am every Friday night?
RICHARD
I was led to believe reconnaissance work?
ADAM
Well, sure, but besides that. Listen kid, when you
find a girl who was just rescued the day before by a
superhero that just happens to have the same psycho
anatomy as...
RICHARD (INTERRUPTING)
Wait, what is psycho-anatomy?
ADAM
Body, Rich, my body. My Lord, you can be so simple.
Girls like my body, I get laid, OK? I’ve got a very
popular alterego. Popular alter-ego, and a damsel I
saved the week before leads to insane happenings
behind closed doors.
RICHARD (QUIETLY)
Huh, I always sort of saw you as asexual.
ADAM
You thought I liked women and men? !
RICHARD
That isn’t what I’m saying. I thought, like, you were
from some foreign planet where nobody had sex or
something, like Morrissey, I don’t know, sorry.

[86]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ADAM
Who is Morrissey? Is he the guy on the food
network? The guy that says, “Bam!?”
RICHARD
Yeah, that’s him. You know what Adam? I’m gonna
try it.
ADAM
Try what? Working in the fast paced market of
franchise quality cuisine? That’s madness.
RICHARD
No, man, (BEAT) no. I’m gonna find that girl, I’m
going to ask her out.
ADAM
Ha, good luck with that.
RICHARD
What’s that supposed to mean?
ADAM
I’ve got to go Rich. Have to be at the mayor’s
mansion for dinner, and listen, I know it’s my turn to
get the groceries, but I don’t have the kind of time
you have. If you could also wash my uniform, I’d be
posthumously grateful.
RICHARD
Posthumously? Contemplating suicide? Best news
I’ve heard all week.
ADAM
Listen, Rich, if you’re going to join the fight for truth,
justice, and the American way, you’re going to have to
do better with your verbal sparring.
RICHARD
Verbal sparring? So I need to start making puns out of
big words I don’t really know the precise definition
of ?
ADAM STARES at Rich for a moment, then flies out
the window without another word. Rich stares at win-
[87]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

dow for a few moments. He walks off screen

CUT TO
INT. O’BRIEN’S BAR - EVENING
RICH is sitting at the bar, stirring some mixed drink
he has ordered looking down. DARREN takes vacant
seat beside him.
DARREN
Rich! What are you doing here?
RICHARD
Rough day at the office.
DARREN
Right. Well, you chose the right night to stumble
across the bar-scene.
RICHARD
Did I?
DARREN
Ladies Rich, two girls from my class. Same age as
ourselves, but we’ve got a very real edge here.
RICHARD
Edge?
DARREN
Haven’t you ever heard about being hot for teacher,
Rich?
RICHARD
Is that some kind of fetish?
DARREN
It, is, the best kind.
RICHARD
Best kind?
DARREN
The best kind of fetish is a universal fetish. Know
your strengths Rich, and really know them.
RICHARD
My only strength is escape, that’s what tonight
represents. Me running from my problems.
[88]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

DARREN
Melodramatic, cut that shit out. Know it inside, and
cover it. (Looks behind) Here they come.
Two girls sit down on the other side of Darren, camera
pans out. As Donna and Darren begin their conversa-
tion, Rich stares amazed at the other girl, ANNA.
DONNA
Hi Proffessor Livingston.
DARREN
Hello Donna, I’m surprised you’re so early. You girls
have a test tomorrow. I hope you studied.
DONNA
I tried, but that stuff you teach is so hard. I don’t
understand a lot of it, no matter how hard I study.
DARREN
Well, not everyone is cut out to be an A student.
DONNA
But I really want the A.
DARREN
Well, I might be able to help you out, did you bring
your books with you?
DONNA
Um, I left them in my car.
DARREN
Well lets take a study break, OK?
DONNA (SMILES RUBS DARRENS LEG)
Great idea Mr. Livingston.
Without a word to Rich or Kelly Darren and Donna
walk out of the bar.
ANNA
That dumbfounded glare you’re giving me seems
painfully familiar .
RICHARD
It’s just, you look really familiar to me too.

[89]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ANNA
Well, I was all over the television yesterday.
RICHARD
Right, you were rescued by, uh, what’s his name,
Night-Thrasher?
ANNA
Yeah. It was crazy, the man was literally flying around
the room. What chance does a fortysomething in a
Nixon mask have ?
RICHARD
I’m Richard.
ANNA
Pleased to meet you, I’m Anna.
RICHARD
Right ... Anna.
Uncomfortable silence, both parties not looking at
one another.
RICHARD
What was that all about with Darren and your friend?
ANNA
She’s failing his class, and she thinks he’s cute.
RICHARD
Right. Right.
More silence
RICHARD
So what do you think they’re doing?
ANNA
Well Richard, I’d say they are probably fucking.
RICHARD
You’re blunt.
ANNA
You’re cute.
RICHARD
I am?

[90]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ANNA
Sort of, this isn’t my first drink. Maybe you really are
cute, maybe you aren’t. You remind me of someone.
RICHARD (ALMOST BEAMING)
Well, I am told I look a lot like Night-Thrasher’s
partner.
ANNA
The little dog?
RICHARD (AGITATED)
Yes, the little, bitch dog.
ANNA
I’m sorry, I offended you. I always do that, I’m
hopeless.
RICHARD
No you aren’t. I’m sorry, I’m having a rough night.
You know, I haven’t had a drink in months?
Kelly writes down her phone number on a napkin and
walks it over to Richard.
ANNA
Here. Call it sometime.
Kelly walks back to her seat and before Rich can re-
spond DARREN and DONNA re-enter. Both looking
a sloppier and sweatier than they had when they left.
Donna looks distraught.
DONNA
Come on Anna, let’s get out of here.
ANNA (WAVES AT RICHARD)
Bye.
The girls exit
DARREN (ANGRY)
Here’s a tip: Apparently, it’s not a good idea to call a
girl Peabo Brison during sex, even if it is the only
hope in keeping your erection limp enough to not
explode instantaneously.

[91]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

RICHARD
You’re an idiot.
DARREN
Whatever, her loss. Why do you look so smug?
RICHARD
Because I got a number.
DARREN
Seriously? (pause) Where the hell have you been
man?! I haven’t seen you in ages, still out saving the
world?
RICHARD
Still out saving the world, not that anyone seems to
take any notice. Why do I bother trying to keep a
secret-identity? Seems most people don’t realize
Night-Thrasher even has a sidekick, much less a
partner.
DARREN
Wait, are you out of the closet?
RICHARD
What?! No.
DARREN
Why not?
RICHARD
I’m not gay, asshole.
DARREN
Oh, well you said partner so I.. .
RICHARD
I give up. I give up.
DARREN
It’s not you man, it’s the mainstream, they aren’t
ready to stop and analyze what’s really going on, they
just want the glitz, Guy, the glam! I know you’re
managing a physically astute water-baby. What I
don’t understand is how he talked you into the
spandex.
[92]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

RICHARD
We’ve talked about that.
DARREN
You’ve talked about that, I stopped listening, I’ll do
the same thing now if I hear the word “leotard. “
RICHARD
Seriously though Darren, am I doing the right thing?
DARREN
Right thing? I doubt it, but teaching is no better. At
least you don’t have to sit through a class of non-wits
trying to pronounce the word “semantics.” One kid
came up to me after class and admitted he was a Nazi.
Thought he was in, (quoting fingers) “good company. “
RICHARD
Jesus !
DARREN
That’s what I said, kid told me not to worry, “We ‘d
have our revenge. “
RICHARD
Subject change: It’s crazy that Anna chick came in
with your girl. We saved her yesterday.
DARREN
Yeah, she talked all about it in class. Sorry to say there
was no mention of you, Gonzoles.
RICHARD
Yeah, so I’m thinking of quitting.
DARREN
No you aren’t.
RICHARD
Maybe I am.
DARREN
What else would you do at this point? You’d try to get
your job back, it wouldn’t happen, so you’d think
about going back to your father, but instead you’d
masochistically go back to your common-law
[93]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

superstallion so you could feel warranted in your

neurotic whining.
RICHARD
Dick.
DARREN
Sorry man, at least you didn’t call the first woman
you’d been with in three years Peabo. I’m not having
a good night.
RICHARD
Since you put it that way, I have no choice but to fo
give. Give me a shout sometime man, I’m gonna get
on home. That phone number thing sort of did me
right.
DARREN
Three days Richard.
RICHARD
Three days.
FADE OUT -- CUT TO
CALEB DIABOLICON’S STUDY - DAY
CUT TO BLACK -- FADE IN
INT. DIABOLICON OFFICE - DAY
Theodore Diabolicon sits at his desk, turned away
toward the window. Only the back of his head is visible.
The office is vacant.
INTERCOM
Dr., Your 3:00 is here.
THEODORE (SPINNING)
Send him in.
An Asian man, in a fine Italian suit walks slowly
into the office. He stands, as there are no chairs.
THEODORE
Come in, Fang.
FANG
Thank you, Theodore.

[94]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

THEODORE
How are things in Chinatown?
FANG
Things are going poorly, I’d apologize, but I am afraid
you are more to blame than I.
THEODORE (ANGRY)
Pardon me, Fang? I do believe there is something in
my ears, I could have sworn you said I was to blame.
FANG
Your sons Doctor. Each of them are foiling our plans.
Diabolico is constantly placing informants at high
levels of the company. When we do have an
operation go through, Night-Thrasher seems to be
three steps ahead of us. That was never the case
before a skinny young man was seen close by running
at uncommon speeds, If I understand correctly, this is
your son as well.
THEODORE
So you blame my boys for your own incompetence,
am I understanding you correctly? You blame my
boys, and vicariously blame me? Your employer?
FANG
I would not be so bold Doctor, but because of their
combined skill, if in fact it is combined, things are
bad in Chinatown.
THEODORE
Now you praise them? But somehow I am still to
blame for your problems. This will not do, Fang.
FANG (BOWING)
I am sorry Doctor, I misspoke, my apologies.
THEODORE
No, Fang, I understand. Give me a moment. Wait in
the mezzanine while I go over some things and we
will sort this out.

[95]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

FANG
Thank you Doctor Diabolicon. Fang leaves the
room. and immediately Theodore presses the button
on his intercom.
THEODORE
Kill him.
INTERCOM
What about the three men with him?
THEODORE
Kill them all.
CUT TO BLACK -- FADE IN
INT. CALEB DIABOLICON’S STUDY
The study’s walls are very high, the camera is positioned
so the large and vacant room is exposed as enormous
within the frame, the walls are composed of nothing
but books reaching the sky. Caleb stands in the middle
of the room at a podium. He lights a joint, pulls, then
places it in an ash-trey sitting beside a computer-mouse
on said podium. He turns on a digital projector situated
behind him. Underneath the projector is an immense
1970’s stereo. Caleb bends to adjust the stylus on the
record player. The film soundtrack becomes the fuzzy
sound emanating from the speakers.
FADE OUT
When the screen fades completely to black the fuzzy
sound from the speakers becomes Bach’s Air on a G
string as played by Wendy Carlos on the Moog Synthe-
sizer from the 1968 album, “Switched on Bach.”
FADE IN
When the camera FADES back in, the frame consists of
a side view of Caleb, still standing, the projector’s screen
conveys a black and white recording from a bird’s eye
view of ADAM VAUGHN and RICHARD DIABOLI-
CON standing in superhero garb conversing. There is
no sound but Bach’s Air, and the audience can see within
[96]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

the projection a hint of subtitles that Caleb is reading,

but the actual film’s frame presents the cinema audience
with the same captions.
R: Adam, your costume is better than mine.
A: Your costume is fine.
R: If you like yellow and green spandex. I want polyalloy
armor. You can at least get me one of those
fiber-glass chest plates.
A: It’s not in the budget right now.
R: What are you talking about? What do you do with
all the tax dollars going to the “Caped Crusader
Initiative Fund?”
A: Listen, I take care of you don’t I?
R: Why can’t you just give me a salary and let me get
my own place?
A: Come on Richard, you know we need to be close if
ever a situation arises.
R: I don’t have time to get into this right now, I
have to go.
A: Going on some kind of date tonight or something
(chuckle)
R: As a matter of fact I am, is it really so hard to
believe?
CUT TO
CAPTION: PART II -- Beyond Good and Evil
CUT TO
Ross stands at a church pulpit in a plain blue suit. Heard
are the sounds of people standing.
ROSS
May the Lord Bless Thee and Keep Thee and make
his face shine upon thee. A-men. And to close: hymn
number thirteen.
The congregation begins to sing Leaning on the
Everlasting Arms, as Ross walks past smiling, until
his eyes meet CHARLES sitting in the back pew in fine
[97]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

suit. Instead of remaining at the back door to greet

his congregation ...
CUT TO
Ross walking down a small incline away from the
church, the song still being heard from a distance.
Ross stops by the side of a palm tree. Someone has
followed him out of the church, Ross turns to see
Charles.
CHARLES
We’re in Los Angeles, Digby, not back in Macon. I
didn’t think they took to Southern Baptists out here.
Course, you and I both know you ain’t no Southern
Baptist. More like a southern canary.
ROSS
Charles Barton. Tell me you just happened to be in
the neighborhood.
CHARLES
Sure, Digby, sure. I don’t got nothing to tell you
should worry you much. Though, you might be
seeing it as one of them tests from God, you know?
Cause you might have to break one or two of them
commandments, assuming you don’t want some
things dredged up from the old times.
ROSS
This isn’t a front Charles. I found salvation a long
time ago. I turned in the money, and I’ve been out
here under government protection. I’ve been Ross
Callahan since I was seventeen, and Ross Callahan is
a Christian. I won’t be doing anything to contradict
my spiritual life.
CHARLES (WITH MOCK EMBARRASSMENT)
I do apologize to be coming across so crude and
callous, Preacher. You know, I take back what I said,
especially the way I said it. A meeting with a friend of
friend, you keep it quiet, and nobody’s going to have
[98]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

to see what you was doing as a troubled kid. Meet

here on Friday. Just follow this map I made you. 8:00
would be a good time to arrive.
ROSS
I won’t be intimidated Charles.
CHARLES
I hate to say it Preacher, but that ain’t necessarily
true. Looks like you go a lot of well fed sheep there
aching to shake the shepherd’s hand, guess I shouldn’t
keep you, I’ll be seeing you again soon enough.
ROSS
Goodbye for now Charles. I haven’t forgotten what a
friend you were to me.
CHARLES
Yeah? Seems I have. Seems I took one beating too
many to really remember anything too good about
you. So long, Preacher.
A confused congregation stares at the out of place
Charles as he walks by them, and Ross waits before
regressing back to his positive demeanor to give his
goodbye to the crowd.
CUT TO
Donna standing at telephone, arms crossed, in a college
hallway. The phone rings, as she picks it up the screen
splits in two and we see Caleb has called this particular
phone at this particular time.
DONNA
Hello?
CALEB
Donna? That you?
DONNA
Hey, so no worries.
CALEB
Did you get the first ten thousand?

[99]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

DONNA
You’ve got nothing to worry about, this guy’s easy. I
already laid the tracks, he’ll be wherever I say, whe
ever I say.
CALEB
I didn’t ask if it was going to be difficult for you, I
asked you if you got the ten grand.
DONNA
I sure did.
CALEB
Good, then look behind you, see the big guy, looks
like a football coach?
Donna turns around where stands Barney wearing a red
baseball cap with an “A” on it and a whistle around his
neck. His arms are crossed.
DONNA
I see him, listen, you don’t have anything to worry
about.
CALEB
I know I don’t, but see that you don’t. Barney’s not
the brightest guy in the world, his ability to break
someone’s neck by inappropriate touching is
completely instinctual.
DONNA
That won’t be necessary.
CALEB
See that it isn’t, now (looks at watch) get to class.
You’re going to be late.
Caleb hangs up, Donna walks into Darren’s classroom.
CUT TO
Darren is finishing his lecture
DARREN
Since it’s the weekend, I’m not going to assign any
homework, but anyone that wants extra credit is
going to need to have their paper on the demise of
[100]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Kantian ideals turned in by next class.

Students begin filing out, as they do all that’s left
is Donna, she approaches Darren.
DONNA
Mr. Livingston, how did I do on that test?
DARREN
Awful, but I added some points on account I mistook
you for a very male pop singer, midcoitus.
DONNA (GIGGLES)
I think I might have been a little hard on you. Want
to redeem yourself?
DARREN
I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Donna.
DONNA
Of course it is, listen, there is a big party, few hours
away, nobody we know for miles and miles. What do
you say? Come away with me this weekend?
DARREN
Listen, I can’t. I’ve got work to do and...
Donna takes Darren’s left hand and puts his index finger
in her mouth, she takes it out.
DONNA
You don’t have to ride with me or anything. I’ve got
our hotel room number and directions right here.
Donna takes a piece of paper out of her cleavage.
DONNA
Just meet me here at 8:OO. Donna reaches into her
cleavage again and pulls out a twenty. She stuffs it
into the front of Darren’s pants
DONNA
There, I’ll even pay for the gas.
DARREN
Maybe I can spare some time tonight.
Donna turns and begins walking away, she turns around

[101]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

DONNA
8:00, tomorrow night, how do you feel about French
housekeepers? Don’t want to overdo the schoolgirl
thing.
DARREN
I...I’ll see you tomorrow.
DONNA
I know you will.
CUT TO
INT - Italian Resteraunt - Night
Darren and Ross walk in together. Richard is seated
at a table with three drained high ball glasses in front of
him.
ROSS
Rich! We’re supposed to be the early ones.
DARREN
Looks like you’ve been here for a while, looks like
you’ve tied one on little guy.
ROSS
Are you celebrating or is something troubling you?
RICHARD
I’m celebrating! No more classroom, no more books,
no more teachers dirty looks.
ROSS
That doesn’t make sense.
DARREN
Where’s your girlfriend, I thought you said she’d join
us?
Ross gives Darren an aggressive look, Darren sort of
shrugs and responds with a look implying that he doesn’t
really know what else to say.
RICHARD
Look, look at this resteraunt you have chosen, look
who is here.
Richard swings his half full glass to point out Adam
[102]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Vaughn and Anna having dinner together.

DARREN
What is that all about amigo?
RICHARD (SHOUTING)
I’ll tell you what it’s about!
ROSS
And I assure you Richard, we want to be here for you,
but you are going to have to quiet down, people are
starting to stare
CUT TO
INT. ADAM VAUGHN’S DEN
Richard sighs, but decides to pick up the telephone.
He references a napkin from his pocket and dials the
number.
RICHARD
Hi, Anna? It’s Richard, I was wondering if you were
free tonight. I know it’s short notice, but... Great! Is
seven thirty alright?
CUT TO
EXT - Anna’s Apartment
Richard knocks on the door, it is answered in no time,
by Anna wearing a red skirt and white cardigan.
ANNA
Well, hello Richard.
RICHARD
Anna, I have to say you look stunning.
ANNA
Stunning? Charm must run in your family.
RICHARD
I’m the only one that does much running in my
family.
ANNA
I take that back then. I’m sorry to say enthusiastic
puns are not exactly the best way to a girls heart.

[103]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

RICHARD
I guess my mind doesn’t move as quickly as my feet.
ANNA
Seriously, Richard, stop.
At this point a montage accompanied by music takes
place. Richard and Anna show up in a variety of places
(moviehouse, restaraunts, a picnic, hand holding down
the urban street, etc) This montage ends with Richard
and Anna sitting on the couch in Anna’s apartment. Rich
leans in for a kiss, and Anna backs a way.
ANNA
Ask me one question, any question. I’ll answer, then I
get to ask you about something.
RICHARD
Have you ever been in love Anna? If you have, how
did you know? What it was?
ANNA (WORRIED SURPRISE)
Oh... I thought you’d ask something kind of like that,
but I didn’t think you’d put it that way. I was made to
believe you wouldn’t be so eloquent, that you couldn’t
be.
RICHARD
What do you mean by that?
ANNA
Sorry, that came out wrong. I reacted.
RICHARD
What did you react to?
ANNA
You’ve asked your question Rich. let me answer it. I
have been in love Rich, and I could never explain to
you what it feels like. The man I love, he. I mean
loved. The man I loved I couldn’t even express it to
him, nor him to me. He tried Richard he really did,
but the way he did, it made me sad, but I went along,
trying to help him explain it to me. For a long time I
[104]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

tried, and sometimes I feel like I’m still trying. It was

hard Richard, and sometimes I lust wish I’d never
found it at all. They make you, the movies and books
or whatever, parents even. They do their best to
make you think that it’s synonymous with beauty.
With happiness or something. But sometimes Rich
it’s so ugly and so hard because that love, that
reciprocated love, it’s more painful than a broken
heart because of what you have to do. (At this point
Anna seems to be speaking to herself) God, what am
I saying? How can I say all this? (looks at Richard)
Did you have to ask that Richard? Did you have to
ask it that way?
RICHARD
What way? Has someone hurt you Anna? Is someone
hurting you.
ANNA
You’ve asked your question Rich, and I can’t go on
with my answer, do you want me to? Do you demand
it?
RICHARD
I wouldn’t demand anything of you.
ANNA
No, I don’t think that you would. I think I
understand that part.
RICHARD
That part? Part of what?
ANNA
What scares you Richard. That’s what I want to
know. Before anything else happens, before anything
else is said. I want to know what you’re afraid of.
RICHARD
I’m afraid of a lot of things, more things every day,
but it’s weird that you would ask me that because I
had this dream. I have a brother. Did I tell you that?
[105]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

I don’t tell anyone that, I don’t talk about my family,

but I do. His name’s Caleb, and I had a dream last
night where he asked me that same question. Just like
you did, he said, “I want to know what you’re afraid
of.” And it wasn’t because he wanted to scare me but
because he wanted to save me. From what I don’t
know. But I’ll tell you what I told him. What I said
in that dream. Loss. If you knew me better that
would seem strange, but I feel like I gave up a lot of
things because of that fear, that fear I kept to
myself. I’m afraid, not of giving things up, not of
throwing things out, but of losing things. I never
seem to have enough things, things to identify
myself with because I ditch them. I get rid of them so
I won’t have them taken from me. I’m scared of
losing sight of who I am, when I don’t really know
what that is. I’ve only known you two weeks and
already I’m terrified of losing you.
ANNA
Your a child.
RICHARD
How dare you answer that way, those were his words
as well. You frighten me Anna, I have to go now.
ANNA
I didn’t mean it that way Richard, I’m on edge
tonight, can’t you see that?
RICHARD
I have to go. Richard gets up and walks to the door.
He closes it behind him, and by the time Anna gets
up to walk to the door, open it and call:
ANNA
RICHARD !
There is no trace of Richard Diabolicon.
CUT TO
INT - ADAM VAUGHN’S DEN
[106]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ADAM
Well, where have you been?
RICHARD
With Anna.
ADAM
Perhaps Richard, you’ve been a bit too
preoccupationed with this new girlfriend.
RICHARD
Preoccupied?
ADAM
It’s getting in the way of your work Rich!
RICHARD
What work Adam? You see, I’m thinking I’m not
really cut out for this “work, “ anymore. I don’t think
I ever was. You seem to do fine on your own, all I
do is run fast. I think I’m going to try to get my
teaching job back. Richard’s demeanor seems to
change from melancholy to hope.
RICHARD
One year and I’d have enough money to put a down
payment on a house. I could marry Anna, start a
family ...
ADAM (INTERRUPTING)
Rich! I need you! This country needs you, sure you
run fast, but you’ve also got what the blacks refer to
as “street smarts. “
RICHARD
Blacks? Street smarts? Listen, that’s not PC man,
that’s racial profiling.
ADAM
You naive fool listen to me! I know too often I forget
to thank you for your help, but without you so many
innocent lives would be put in harms way. I know it’d
be nice to give up on all this, get that family and a
nine to five, but can you really do that with a clear
[107]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

conscientious?
RICHARD
Conscience.
ADAM
Richard!!! I think you need to examine this
relationship you have with your lady friend!
RICHARD
I have been, I mean, I am.
ADAM
Aha, I see it in your face Richard, something’s amiss.
RICHARD
Actually ...
ADAM
You’ve got to end it Rich!
RICHARD
But I think I’m falling in love with her Adam.
ADAM
We don’t have time for love. Justice doesn’t deserve
polygamy.
RICHARD
Polygamy. Right, you said it right, and you said... Wow
Adam, that’s profound. That’s Kierkegaardian.
ADAM
Look to your heart Richard, you know what you have
to do.
Richard has a moment of being lost in thought as Adam
stares him down intently and then a knock comes on the
door.
ANNA (OUTSIDE)
Richard, we need to talk! You can’t treat me like this!
You can’t just run away without any kind of
explination.
RICHARD (QUIETLY)
Adam, could you just fly out of here for a second?

[108]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ADAM (NOT QUIETLY)

Listen pal, I think it’d be better if I stayed. Now,
remember what we talked about. . .
RICHARD
I can handle this
ANNA (STILL KNOCKING)
Open the damn door!
Adam runs to open the door, as he does Anna is sur-
prised.
ANNA
Who are you?
ADAM
This is my house. I’m letting Rich stay here. Well, he
rents out a room upstairs. You must be his liaison.
ANNA
Liaison?
ADAM
It’s French for lover.
ANNA (INTERESTED)
Really?
ADAM
Oh sure, I learned...
RICHARD (INTERRUPTING)
Well you wanted to talk, let’s talk.
Richard now stands between Anna and Adam. Anna is
transfixed with Adam who gives a cheesy game show
host smile.
RICHARD
Well?
ANNA
Oh, right, well, it’s just (finally moves gaze over to
Rich) It’s just I felt like we were really having a nice
time together, and then today, you just freaked out on
me.

[109]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ADAM
The little rascal does that sometimes, I’m Adam by
the way.
ANNA
Adam? Have me met?
ADAM
Well I’ve been on TV.
RICHARD (INTERRUPTING AGAIN)
Look, I’m sorry. I’ve been having a hard time at work.
ANNA
Right. Work. Adam, did you say you speak French
fluently?
ADAM
Si, seniorita.
ANNA (SLOWLY AND DREAMILY)
Wow.
ADAM
Say, Anna, Rich and I were going to go see a movie
tomorrow night, and if you wanted to tag along ...
RICHARD
What? Adam, I can’t go to a movie tomorrow. It’s
Ross’ first sermon and then his church is having a pot
luck. I promised I’d be there. I was going to ask
Anna...
ANNA
Well, I’ll go see the movie with you then Adam. I hate
the thought of you having to go to the movies all by
yourself.
ADAM
It’s a date! Haha, kidding Rich, kidding. Well I’ve got
to get going, work to do you know.
Rich is just watching Anna and Adam with pure horror
all over his face.
ANNA (AS IF RICH ISN’T THERE)
What do you do?
[110]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ADAM
I’m a producer.
ANNA
How exciting!
ADAM
Yeah, well, bye all!
ANNA
Actually Rich, I should get going too.
ADAM
Hey, I’ll walk you to your car.
Rich stands mute as Adam and Anna walk out the door.
CUT TO
Italian Resteraunt
ROSS
That sermon was yesterday.
RICHARD (SINGING)
Yesterday, all my troubles oh so far away. (Stops
singing) I wasn’t there Ross, I was here, right here.
Wait, where are we? Is this the bar?
ROSS
Richard, it’s going to be ok. You can’t do this to
yourself.
Suddenly Ross, Richard, and Darren notice that Adam
has gotten down on one knee, and even from their dis-
tance from the table Anna can be heard.
ANNA
I do! Oh Adam, I do!
RICHARD (SMILING)
I do.
DARREN
You do what?
RICHARD
I do, Darren. I’m going to do, do him in. Hahaha,
word play! I do!

[111]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ROSS
Shhh, stop Richard, don’t cause a scene.
DARREN
Richard, you’re good at running, but I don’t think you
are in any condition to be swinging your drunken fists
at the worlds mightiest ...
ROSS
Shhh, someone will hear.
DARREN
Lighten up, Rossy. Rich my boy, let’s settle down and
look at our options.
RICHARD
Options?
DARREN
This guy is ruining your life right?
ROSS
Darren, come on now.
DARREN
Be quiet Ross, and let me finish. He dominates
conversations, makes you feel inferior, and now, look
at him, he’s marrying YOUR girlfriend.
ROSS
Stop it Darren, your upsetting him more. Adam and
Richard accomplished some real good together no
need to focus on this stuff, maybe Richard just needs
a vacation.
DARREN
Accomplished good? How can one accomplish good?
By saving people from death, thereby making this
glorified asshole even more of a dominate societal
figure? Bullshit! If we are going to be utilitarian about
this, all Beefy McSlowit does is prolong the inevitable
while, at the same time, demanding, and receiving I
might add, undeserved self glorfication.

[112]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ROSS
He saves lives Darren, put yourself in those victim’s
shoes. Think how...
DARREN
No! No! Half the people he saves are merely there as
bait for this superhero bastard! If he wasn’t free to do
his “good deeds,” and receive front page billing I
doubt super-villainy would even exist. You see, the
supervillain wants notoriety for being the only person
dubious enough to capture said superhero, otherwise
he’d just be robbing banks, or cheating the company
of which he is already a CEO, not bombing buildings!
Not kidnapping children !
RICHARD
You know, my dad would love to get a hold of
Night-Thrasher.
ROSS
Maybe your Dad would just really like to see his son
again.
DARREN
Ross, shut it up with your movie of the week bullshit.
ROSS
<Sigh...>
DARREN
Good. Ok, now Richard, your Dad is a definate
option here. Let’s look beyond morality here
and look at what’s beneficial. I’ve had enough of this
do unto others fundamentalist bullshit, now turning
Night-Thrasher over to your father. What would
that accomplish?
RICHARD
I don’t agree with his ideas. I mean he lied to me
growing up, he was my hero, then I find out
everything he touches, everything he’s connected to
is crooked. It hurts regular hard working people!
[113]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

DARREN
Bla bla bla, now, what are you trying to say?
Ross shakes his head and looks down.
RICHARD
Well, he’s no hero, but I need someone. I need family.
We have differences, but he always treated me like
royalty. Better than Adam Fucking Vaughn
ever did!
DARREN
Exactly. That’s not all though, with Night-Thrasher
out of the way you are the only guy around with ANY
superpowers. Think about the honeys you could get
with that sort of talent!
RICHARD
And Anna would be single again ... Thanks guys, I
know what I have to do.
Rich vanishes.
DARREN
Well, I did it. The money is as good as ours.
ROSS
You did it, but why did you have to do it like that?
DARREN
I don’t know, I don’t understand why you have to
make everything all sweet and nice. Like you were
gonna send him off to Orlando Florida or something.
His Dad’s a supervillain Ross, and you know how
wishy washy Richard is.
CUT TO
Caleb’s study - day
Caleb is reading the New York Times when the phone
rings.
ANNA
It’s too much Caleb, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving
tonight.

[114]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

CALEB
Of course your leaving tonight sweetheart, it’s all
worked out. Rich is coming home. My
informant saw it all, the engagement threw my
brother into a real fit.
ANNA
I’m leaving Caleb, you along with the rest of it.
CALEB
Don’t even think it, how can you?! I did this for you!
ANNA
No you did this, you are doing this, for yourself.
CALEB
I have scores to settle Anna, scores to settle if I can
ever be the man you deserve, you know that.
Otherwise I would have just left. I would have
disappeared Anna, I’m not sure just how, but that’s all
I could make myself want, but then I saw you.
ANNA
I’m not sure Caleb, I just fit into the mold you
needed, just another girl that came into the music
store to buy an album.
CALEB
You looked up at me from the pop slash punk, I was
in Classical: I didn’t believe in what I saw in your eyes
at that moment, and there it was. I didn’t believe I
could ever deserve that look without so much as two
words having been said. I didn’t believe in souls being
destined to congeal. I didn’t believe in it.
ANNA
But why all of this Caleb? Couldn’t we just sell it out,
move to a little farm, have children?
CALEB
Of course we could, but that’s not us. That could
never be us. I’m going to show you the world, I’m
going to father and you are going to mother a legacy.
[115]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

You’re worth that to me. I’ll change all of it Anna,

everything. The weakness and the wrongness, and so
many men, they want to. They want to and they don’t
have the opportunity, it isn’t there for them. For me
it’s always been there and I’ve sort of laughed at it all
from the sidelines. It all seemed so pointless before.
ANNA
Caleb, I do love you, and perhaps I’ll come back. I
don’t know how I’ll go on without your voice, your
strong, sure voice. Sweethearts since sixteen, secret
sweethearts, remember? You couldn’t tell anyone
about me.
CALEB
I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you see what
they were! I wouldn’t let you compare me to them,
but I fear now you’re comparing me with Richard.
ANNA
He’s a good person Caleb, and you’re destroying him.
I expected someone else, a goon. You never even
showed me a picture of him for God’s sake. He’s just
a little man-boy, and everyone walks all over him.
CALEB
That’s why he has to be gotten rid of, he can’t be
trusted, he’s a fool! If he can’t be trusted then he has
to be taken care of, he has to give this company to
me, I’ll take care of him alright, but I can’t risk him
stepping in and taking this company away for the will
of someone stronger than him that he’s willing to
succumb to completely. I won’t do it!
ANNA
You’re shouting Caleb, you’re shouting things that I
 Caleb and Anna were not literally sweethearts from
sixteen years of age, but had first made love to a song about
sixteen year old sweethearts that had to keep their love hid-
den for an array of reasons.
[116]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

can’t grasp. I don’t get this stuff Caleb, but I believed

in you, but your brother, he cares about me too.
Don’t get me wrong, you’re the one I love, but he’s
kind and patient, and he tries Caleb, he really does.
CALEB
He tries and he fails, ironic when he was the one that
was supposed to succeed. I was fine to let that
happen, but then you came along. With you not
only can I move mountains, but I have the
inclination. I have to move mountains for you,
because I don’t have the ability to be less than
magnificent with you by my side!
ANNA
You realize your becoming your father. It’s been
getting worse, all the traits you used to tell me you
abhorred, I’m inspiring their growth in you. If I have
to leave to save you from that, then that’s what I’ll
do.
CALEB
Anna, you wouldn’t do that to us! Without you, I’m
stuck in the middle of a pointless battle. I cannot win
without you. Bad things will happen, Anna. I’m going
to need a crutch, you know what I’ll do.
ANNA
Don’t start threatening Caleb Diabolicon, don’t you
touch the scotch, you promised me you’d never drink
again. You stay away from it, do you hear me?
CALEB
Then don’t force me to do what I’m capable of doing
without you in my life.
ANNA
This is why I have to leave Caleb, you are unstable,
you’re uncontrollable! It’s attractive, but it isn’t right,
and without me it isn’t there, I understand that. I
love you my sweet Caleb Diabolicon. I love you.
[117]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Anna hangs up
CALEB
But Anna, I...Anna? Anna?!!!
Caleb begins slamming the receiver against the wall,
looking forward with tears running down his face.
His quiet muttering is hard to understand.
CALEB
Anna? Anna? Anna?
CAPTION: PART III - The Genealogy of Morals.
INT. CALEB DIABOLICON’S OFFICE
Caleb sits at his desk drinking Johnny Walker Blue out
of the bottle. A knock at the door.
CALEB
Go away!
CHARLES (BEHIND DOOR)
Boss, it’s those guys from California. Say they came to
collect.
CALEB
Oh, right, right, haha, yes! Send those boys right on
in here.
Darren and Ross walk in
ROSS
So, like I said before, I don’t want any compensation
except I just want to be rid of those photographs.
DARREN
I, on the other hand, am looking forward to the fifty
grand.
CALEB
How would you like one hundred grand Darren? How
would you like one hundred grand to bump off a real
jackass that has it coming to him?
DARREN
A hundred grand? I don’t want to kill anyone Mr.
Diabolicon.

[118]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

CALEB
Nobody will blame you, nobody will care, I’ve got it
all put together you see? I have it all arranged!
ROSS
Please Mr. Diabolicon, can I go now? Rich is going to
his father’s tomorrow, just like you wanted.
CALEB
Yes! And you two should come with!
ROSS
Excuse me?
DARREN
I really am fine with fifty grand.
CALEB
Nobody gets anything unless they do as they’re told.
Plans have changed. I get to do that ok? I have
the authority, not you. You aren’t even going to get
your hands dirty and I’m offering you 500 thousand
dollars, how does that sound? Just to kill somebody,
somebody that doesn’t even want to go on living! It’s
for Richard’s own good, you know, your friend?
ROSS
I’m not going to put Richard into any more
unsettling situations Mr. Diabolicon.
CALEB
Don’t you get it you idiot? You aren’t going to hurt
your friend, you are going to hurt his brother. Me! If
I’m not going to be around, he has to get stronger,
has to be meaner, don’t you get it? He’s Sacher-
Masoch, and he loves it, and I won’t stand for it. He
can’t just lean on petty shoulders like yours, not if one
of you tries to kill him. That’s my plan, it has to look
like he can’t even trust his best friends. He’ll dash out
of the way just in time, and I’ll be done with it all, all
of it.

[119]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ROSS
I refuse Mr. Diabolicon, this is too far, even if you do
go digging up my past.
Caleb quickly takes out a gun and shoots Ross.
CALEB
How about I go digging up your grave. Get it? Boys
your not laughing.
Barney and Charles force some kind of laugh, Darren is
mortified and frozen.
CALEB
So what do you say Darren? You gonna help me turn
Richard into the Diabolicon I refuse to be? The hard
cold cruel one, that destroys in the face of adversity?
DARREN
Whatever you need me to do Mr. Diabolicon I’ll do
it.
CALEB
Then buy me a scotch old man! Buy me a Glen! Ah,
Charlie take care of old stick in the mud there (points
at Ross’ body), we’re going drinkin’.
CHARLES
Anything you say boss.
CALEB
Boss, I love it. Darren, how about you start callin’ me
boss from now on?
DARREN
Ok.
CALEB
Now.
DARREN
Ok, boss.
CALEB
Yeah, that’s right. The big bossman. Big Poppa!
Barney!

[120]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

BARNEY
Yeah boss?
CALEB
I want you to call me Big Poppa, and I want you to go
out to O’Daniells Pub, and buy everybody whatever
they want. You tell them Big Poppa got it for em, and
you tell them Big Poppa’s on his way.
BARNEY
Yeah, ok, boss. You really lettin’ me drive?
CALEB
Sure (throws Barney his keys), I’m calling a limo,
what do you say Darren, we gonna have a good old
time tonight or what?
DARREN
Whatever you say boss.
CALEB (SLAPS DARRENS BACK)
That’s boy!
CUT TO
O’Daniels Pub - Night
Darren, Charles, and Caleb walk into the bar to see
Barney sitting alone in front of Mick the bald fortys-
omething
bartender.
BARNEY
I tried to buy everybody a round boss, but there ain’t
nobody here.
CALEB
Of course there ain’t, isn’t that right Mick?
MICK
We had a deal didn’t we? I keep my word, what can I
get for you Mr. Diabolicon?
CALEB
Selfish dreams, bartender, can you make those? Stir
those up in your cylinder?

[121]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

MICK
You’re a philosopher Caleb, one of the last I think.
CALEB
No, I’m Big Poppa, I leave that philosophy crap to
my brother, and this guy here (Caleb points to
Darren) seems he’s a philosopher too.
MICK
You a philosopher buddy?
DARREN
I just teach it.
MICK
Good honest work that is. Teachin’. Doesn’t pay
what it should, am I right?
CALEB
Ah, he doesn’t need to worry about that these days,
do you old man?
Caleb slaps Darren on the back. The door to the bar
swings open
CALEB
Yoshi! You’ve made it. Hip Hip!
HENCHMEN, DARREN, AND MICK
Hooray!
YOSHI
You’re drunk Mr. Diabolicon, you normally have a
little more class then to address me by my first name
in front of the help.
CALEB
How about Hirohito? Mr Mao? I’ll just call you every
stereotype in the book if that’s what you’d rather
have. I’m not going to respect you if you don’t do
your job.
YOSHI
I infiltrated the Chinatown operation, very
successfully.

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 TH E / D E S PAI R

CALEB
You all look alike, even to each other. That’s a damn
shame!
YOSHI
Diabolicon, show more respect please, you are
making me angry.
CALEB
Did you not get my memo? You’re making me angry.
You aren’t doing your job!
YOSHI
That wasn’t serious, that was erroneous.
CALEB
If you want what you said you wanted, you’ll do as I
asked. You’ll do it now.
From Yoshi’s long flowing coat comes a tommy gun.
Caleb lies on the floor and everyone else in the bar
is ruthlessly gunned down. Caleb stands up smiling
and takes a document from inside his coat pocket.
CALEB
Thank you Mr. Kamon. Here is the bill of sale, the
deed to Diabolic0 completely notarized and
legitimate.
YOSHI
And I have the ring for you.
CALEB
I don’t need it Yoshi, not anymore. There’s not going
to be a farm, or children, or anything really. Just a
wave of mutilation.
YOSHI
Sir, I insist you take it. A matter of honor. Good men
were sacrificed in getting this artifact.
CALEB
Then give it here. (takes ring) Goodbye Yoshi. Enjoy
your new business, I’m off to meet my maker.

[123]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

YOSHI
Wait, before you do anything rash, there is something
I took from Chinatown. Something I thought you
might like. As I see you in your current state, I feel it
is something you may need.
CALEB
Well then, give it here boss!
Yoshi holds out a tattered copy of the I-Ching. Caleb
takes it and without another word walks out the door.
CUT TO
INT. THEODORE DIABOLICON’S HOME -
NIGHT
Theodore Diabolicon sits at the head of a huge dining
table, alone with a brandy snifter. The sound of a door-
bell is heard. The sound of a door opening. Muffled
talking. Theodore hits a button on a small metal device
in front of him, into which he speaks.
THEODORE
Maurice? Who the blazes is here at this hour.
INTERCOM
Your son, Doctor.
THEODORE
Which one?
No answer is given, as Theodore stands quickly seeing
his son Richard sopping wet in the doorway.
THEODORE
Richard? What are you doing here?
RICHARD
May I sit?
THEODORE
You have a place at this table, if you wish to take it,
do so.
Richard sits down at one of the chairs on the side of the
table.

[124]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

THEODORE
Can I pour you a drink.
RICHARD
No, Dad. I don’t think so. I did enough drinking last
night to last me quite a while, let me just go ahead
and get this out.
THEODORE
Of course Son, what is it?
RICHARD
Do you know what I’ve been doing since I left?
THEODORE
Yes Son, I believe you prance about town in a
Halloween costume making your birthright less and
less valuable.
RICHARD
That’s about right, I’ve come to terms with the fact
that that’s about right. I wanted to help people.
THEODORE
Did you help anyone?
RICHARD
Nobody worth helping.
THEODORE
So did you truly want to help people, or did you want
appreciation?
RICHARD
I don’t know anymore, I’m not here to make excuses
for myself.
THEODORE
And I’m not here to validate any excuses, but I am
your father. I’m here to take care of you, to care
about you. I’m not a saint, but I understand how you
feel. You don’t have to believe that if you don’t want
to, but it’s true. I knew you’d be back. Did you know
that? That’s why I kept things going, because I knew
it was just a matter of time before you began to see
[125]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

things a little more clearly. There’s nothing wrong

with wanting to be appreciated, and I appreciate you
Son. I always have, but I’m going to refrain from
gushing at the moment. Speak your piece, after I ask
you once more; What are you doing here? Finally
ready to do business with your old man?
RICHARD
Do you trust me? After all I’ve done, are you not
suspicious?
THEODORE
No, son. You’ve done a lot I can’t say I’m comfortable
with, but you remain the only person that leaves me
vulnerable.
RICHARD
Dad, if you mix two carbon nitrates in a liquid base
up to about four ounces you can deem
Night-Thrasher as powerless as a paraplegic.
THEODORE
I see. It’s hard not to be suspicious of such
information Richard. The only person that’s made
operations for the company more difficult for me
than Night-Thrasher is...
Caleb stumbles into the room before his father can
speak his name.
CALEB
Into her womb convey sterility! Dry up in her the
organs of increase !
THEODORE
Look Richard, the serpent’s tooth has arrived.
CALEB
Ah, the King and his prince! I, the duke, have come
heralding a lack of a new age. Hear ye! Hear ye! Now
that I have made my arrival I shall excuse myself to
the palace dung chamber for a releasing of the fluids.
Caleb stumbles to the bathroom, visibly intoxicated.
[126]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Rich and Theodore have trouble doing anything but

staring.
THEODORE
The boy’s gone on a drunk again. What sort of bad
luck would have him show up today.
Caleb stumbles back in time to respond.
CALEB
Hexagram 41 in the Book of Changes: The Sun. If
only I could follow it’s advice, but action must be
taken! Action must be taken.
THEODORE
Calm down boy, shout some spoonerisms if you’d like,
but drop the strange jibberjabber. Richard has just
redeemed himself, I suppose you’ve not come to do
anything at all in that vein.
CALEB
Oh contraire! I’ve come to do something very much
in vain! To watch gentlemen. To watch my dreams
and my goals bastardize themselves so very
appropriately.
THEODORE
I won’t listen to your nonsense Caleb, I’ve got an
operation to put under way.
CALEB
You want to capture the costumed ninny? Is that it?
THEODORE
Why, it sure is.
CALEB
Look in the foyer.
Theodore and Richard both walk to the door and look
out.
RICHARD
You’ve already caught him?!
CALEB
Methane and condrium, four ounces, yes indeed I
[127]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

have.
RICHARD
Jesus! How would you know about that?
CALEB
Nevermind how, just pour me some bourbon!
Caleb shakes an empty flask he has taken from his
pocket.
THEODORE
Oh I’ll pour you a drink, boy, and you’ll be staying
here tonight. We’re a family again, and once
tomorrow comes, and you’re sober, I’ve got some
things to say about this “Diabolico.“ You may have
aided in fixing Richard’s problems, but you yourself
remain a thorn in my side.
CALEB
Diabolico? Oh! You mean my company? You don’t
need to worry about that, I sold all my shares two
days ago to some fool in Tokyo, it was unfortunate
seeing as I bought this worthless piece of shit with
the money.
Caleb takes out a ring with an enormous diamond, he
examines it with an air of mock interest, then he throws
it at a window, which, in turn, breaks.
RICHARD
What happened Caleb? What’s brought this on?
CALEB
A woman, brother. As I’ve said, I’ve sold my shares,
and I have no more need of women and their
trinkets, and their bobbles, and their pretend words
of backbreaking support. Eh? Who’ll drink to that?
Will you old man? Will you drink to a woman that
broke your heart, or is it only the sons that have
known such misery.
RICHARD
How do you know things Caleb?
[128]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Theodore begins pouring Caleb whisky.

THEODORE
He’s a little snoop Richard, that’s how, he knows
everything, even the things he asks about. Go to bed
boy, I’ll not be toasting your misogyny tonight. (places
drink in front of Caleb) You sleep, and tomorrow
we’ll begin reparations. It’s good to have you home
Richard. And Caleb?
CALEB
Yes father?
THEODORE
Drink down that damn bourbon and go sleep it off.
FADE OUT/FADE IN
Richard covering himself in his bed
FADE OUT/FADE IN
Caleb standing in front of the mirror with blood shot
eyes, takes out a coke baggie and portions some out
on the sink.
FADE OUT/FADE IN
Theodore picking up an unconscious Adam Vaughn and
placing him into the trunk of his Mercedes. Drives to
Diabolicon Industries. Sets Night-Thrasher on a metal
chair and ties him to it. He takes out smelling salts to
revive his nemesis.
ADAM
Where am I? Diabolicon?!
THEODORE
That’s right, but I’d appreciate it if you’d call me
Doctor. You’ll notice I’ve attached an IV full of
methane and condrium. You’ll have just enough to
keep you conscious and able to speak, but unable
to break the rope that binds you.
ADAM
What?

[129]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

THEODORE
It’s true, I could have just killed you, and I will, but
studies show a man who knows he is going to die
becomes like an animal. He knows his fate and he
suffers an absolute kind of suffering until he mentally
perishes before he physically leaves this realm of the
living.
ADAM
You’ll never get away with this !
THEODORE
Can you hear yourself when you speak? I’ll never get
away with this? Not only will I, but I believe it is your
destiny. Mine as well, this is Biblical. You are the
answer to the parable of the prodigal son.
ADAM
You are no God!
THEODORE
No, there’s no such thing. But metaphorically I am
indeed a god. I don’t expect you to know what that
means. Perhaps it’s better for you to see me as The
Devil himself. Though, as bright as the moonlight is,
we shant be dancing .
ADAM
Who did this to me? Who was the strange man that
knew my one secret?
THEODORE
My son, Caleb.
ADAM
You’re a father? What woman would ever have a man
like you?
THEODORE
You’re about to die and you want to talk about a love
life? You don’t seem to recognize the gravity of your
situation.

[130]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ADAM
I’ll get out of here, Diabolicon, somehow.
THEODORE
That’s more like it. As I was saying before, that isn’t
possible. I’m going to allow this stuff to keep mixing
with your bloodstream until you die. If I’m figuring
correctly it should be about four days. You have no
allies. You have no league of fellow justice fighters.
you have no sidekick.
ADAM
I have Richard, the fastest man alive!
THEODORE
Did you ever bother boy his last name?
ADAM
It wasn’t necessary.
THEODORE
You’re sidekick is also my son.
ADAM
I’ve been betrayed?!
THEODORE
If I’ve read the papers correctly I believe you’ve had
such a betrayal coming. You see, a Diabolicon likes to
be congratulated now and again, there are a lot of
men that are going to be thanking me for what I’m
doing at this very moment. Why couldn’t you thank
Richard every once in a while?
ADAM
I thanked that back stabber plenty, I gave him a
paycheck! I gave him a place to live.
THEODORE
Well, whatever you offered it wasn’t enough. I’m not
sure why Richard chose now, why Caleb chose now. I
could have asked them, but I’ll take more pleasure in
asking you.

[131]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ADAM
How would I know why the evil heart betrays this
downtrodding world?
THEODORE
Downtrodden I believe is the word your looking for.
ADAM
I stole his girlfriend.
THEODORE
His girlfriend? His girlfriend?! Hahahahahahahaha!!!!!
Wait, that ring. Interesting. And you say you’ve never
met Richard’s brother?
ADAM
I’m done talking to you.
A handkerchief makes a sudden movement over Theor-
dore Diabolicon’s mouth and nose. Theodore falls to the
ground.
CALEB
He’s done talking to you as well.
ADAM
Thank you citizen!
CALEB
No need to thank me, I did get you into this situation
after all.
ADAM
Wait! You’re the one that drugged me! You’re
Richards brother!
CALEB
A ring-a-ding-ding.
Caleb looks at his watch.
CALEB
And if I’m right Richard should be arriving just ...
about...NOW
The door to the office swings open.
RICHARD
What is going on in here, why did you both just leave
[132]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

me in my bed to... Oh Christ, what’s going on in here?

ADAM
Help me Richard! There’s still time !
CALEB
The guest of honor! This, Richard, is going to make
you so bored with all tomorrow’s parties.
RICHARD
What’s happened to Dad?
CALEB
He’s fine, don’t worry about old Teddy Diabolicon.
ADAM
Have you betrayed me Richard?! Say it is not so!
CALEB
Look at this guy, Rich. Hey, White-Trasher, give me a
good reason why you should (hic) ... why you should
go on living.
Caleb takes a swig of his flask while Adam begins to
respond
ADAM
I defend those that can’t defend themselves, I...
CALEB (INTERRUPTING)
That is, wow, that is interesting.
ADAM
Reason with him Richard!
CALEB
Reason with me Rich, like we all don’t know what’s
going on here. Like this self-rightous some-bitch has
a prayer.
RICHARD
Caleb, can’t Dad handle this?
CALEB
Not unconscious, I just chloroformed the old man.
It’s time for you to step up a little for God’s sake. I’m
giving you back what I took from you.
Caleb swigs his flask again, puts it back in his pocket,
[133]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

pulls out a cigarette

RICHARD
Caleb, I can’t.
Caleb takes out another napkin and touches it with chlo-
roform, walks over to an already struggling with con-
sciousness Adam. He puts it over Adam’s mouth.
CALEB
Then what the hell are you doing here?
RICHARD
I might ask you the same question.
Caleb pockets the chloroform napkin and takes his flask
back out.
CALEB
I’m drunk Richard. (swigs)
RICHARD
And?
CALEB
And? So? You know, I don’t know. What’s the point?
Stop asking me stuff, Richard.
RICHARD
I need to know what’s happened to you. Caleb takes
a gun from his pocket squats on the ground and puts
it to his father’s temple. He takes out a second gun
and throws it to Rich. Rick fumbles it but does catch
it.
CALEB
Kill the frat boy Richard, or I swear I’ll kill our dad.
RICHARD
Stop it Caleb.
CALEB
3...2...
A shot is heard and Caleb grins, he then pulls his
own trigger and a second shot is heard.
RICHARD
Oh my God, Caleb, what have you done? !
[134]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

CALEB
I promised you freedom Richard,and Goddarnrnit if
I’m not going to deliver.
RICHARD
What have you done?! ! 1
CALEB
As far as anyone’s going to (takes swing) going to
know, not a darn dern dad burn thing.
Richard has slumped onto his knees beside his dead
father, he looks up at his brother mouth ajar, eyes wide
and pleading
CALEB
Grow up! You idiot, grow up! Grow up!
Richard stands up, mouth still open wide, eyes growing
furious.
CALEB
That’s it! I can see it! That’s it!
Caleb spits in his brothers face. Richard responds by
throwing a connecting punch, Caleb is knocked to the
floor.
CALEB
HA HA! Wonderful!
Caleb kicks Richard‘s legs out from under him. Rich
crawls away from Caleb, stands and is about to dash
away...
CALEB
Disable speed genome.
Richard turns, stares at his brother.
RICHARD
Enable speed genome
Caleb gives a mocking grin.
CALEB
Making a run for it? (takes out another cigarette)
RICHARD
Why can‘t I? I want out! I want out!!!
[135]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Caleb takes his flask and puts it out for Richard.

CALEB
Calm down, my voice activates your powers. My voice
and only my voice. Now have a sip .
Richard slaps the flask out of Caleb’s hand, and grabs
his brother by the collar. Caleb’s cigarette falls to the
ground.
RICHARD
Enable it Caleb, Enable it you peice of horse shit!
CALEB
Enable safeguard.
Richard falls to the ground.
CALEB
There you go with your trash mouth again. You could
do anything, but you’d rather just run your stupid,
spineless... You know what? Here! Take it.
Caleb throws Richard his gun.
CALEB
I‘m not afraid to die!
RICHARD
I don‘t want to kill you.
CALEB
Don’t want to? Or can‘t? This is your one chance, go
ahead! The door to the Diabolicon office opens,
Anna walks in .
BROTHERS
Anna !
RICHARD
Get out of here, it‘s not safe.
Anna and Caleb both ignore Richards voice and run to
one another and embrace.
CALEB
Oh darling, I thought I‘d lost you. I thought I‘d lost
you forever. For good.

[136]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

ANNA
I need you Caleb, I need you, no matter what you do.
A shot is heard, Caleb falls to the ground with a
wounded left leg.
CALEB
Put the gun down Richard, I can explain everything.
Ah, my leg, just, agh, let me explain it.
ANNA
Rich, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. (turns to Caleb)
Baby, are you ok?
RICHARD
Somebody better start, because events are all rushing
together and my mask of sanity is this close to
slipping.
CALEB
How literary brother, listen, we both wanted,
(swallows) we wanted this company didn’t we? I
mean, you didn’t know I did, but I did... of course!
For her, for our Anna. She deserves everything I could
ever give her and more, but I had to get your shares.
It was immoral Rich, but it was for her.
RICHARD
You mean to tell me...
ANNA
I did care about you Rich, that’s why I was confused.
I didn’t love you, but I cared. Your brother cared too,
you don’t know it but he did, he had it all figured out.
He’s selfish, but he wouldn’t have let you get hurt.
CALEB
Forgive me brother, forgive me. Let me live? Before I
didn’t care. Before she came in that door the empire
was as good as yours, it was to be a destroyed empire,
but all the same I was giving it you. I did not plan to
live, I did not want to. You are a better man than I
am, I know that.
[137]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ANNA
You once asked me what love was Richard. Caleb and
I, that’s what it is. It’s not beautiful, it’s not some
kind of deliverance, but it’s...
Richard shoots Caleb.
RICHARD
Then what is this, Anna? Do you want to know? This
is pure egoism (looks at right hand), this is hate (looks
at right hand). This is the will to power (looks at both
hands, then, Anna). How oft shall my brother sin
against me? Seventy times seven? Leave Anna, and if
you know what’s good for you, forget today. Forget
you ever even heard the name, Diabolicon.
ANNA
NO! NO!
Richard walks out of the office as Anna violently weeps
for her dead lover.
FADE OUT
EPILOGUE
INT. COMMERCIAL AIRCRAFT - DAY
Anna sits reading the book All Fall Down by James Leo
Herlihy next to a tom-boy of about sixteen.
SCOUT
Hi, I’m Scout. I’ve read that book your reading. How
do you like it.
ANNA
Well, I’ve only just started.
SCOUT
So London huh? Ever been there? You staying in
London, or moving on some place else?
ANNA
I’ve never been, but I’m going to give it a look
around.
SCOUT
I’ve never been either. Nobody knows I’m going. My
[138]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

mom and dad still think I’m in school at Pency.

Pency’s School for Young Ladies, but I got the boot,
and I’m not gonna go back home. I borrowed some
money from my sister and I’m just getting away you
know?
ANNA
Running away?
SCOUT
Sure, I guess. It’s just, this is the fourth school I’ve
flunked out of, and I’m not a moron. Really, I’m not.
It’s just everyone’s so phony you know? And I don’t
want to be like that, phoney I mean. I want to be
different.
ANNA
I can’t give you any advice sweetheart. I may be a
good ten years older than you. I may be a real adult,
but I’m running away too.
SCOUT
What are you running from?
ANNA
I’m running from a little girl’s problems. I’m running
away from a little girl that loved a little boy. He was a
phony too, just like the rest of them, but he knew it.
SCOUT
Then wasn’t he just pretending to be a phony? I mean
if he knew it.
ANNA
Of course!!! (Anna puts her hand over her face to
calm herself down.) Of course he did, but I didn’t
understand. Do you want some advice Scout? Some
advice from a stranger?
SCOUT
I, ok, yeah, sure I do.
ANNA
Don’t get involved in the stories of fathers and sons.
[139]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Are those stories real? Sure they are. To know a

person is to know where they come from, but who
knows what darkness lurks in the hearts of men?
SCOUT
The Shadow?
Scout and Anna giggle a bit.
ANNA
Perhaps, but never fall in love with shadow Scout.
Better to love a phony than a hero or a villain.
CUT TO
Theodore Diabolicon’s office. Chair turned away from
the camera.
INTERCOM
Dr. Diabolicon, your 3:00 is here.
Chair spins revealing Richard in his father’s place.
RICHARD
Send him in.
The door opens.
RICHARD
Ah, Mr. Dent, how are things in Gotham?
CUT TO
CAPTION DIABOLICON

[140]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

______L.A.S.______
She was still weeping openly in the other room. We’d
been dating seriously for the past few months and I
had not yet seen her cry. Jade Allen’s emotional hiding
place had always been beneath beautiful brown eyes of
strength, and this was why I had fought so hard and so
quickly for the title of fiance’. The safety that had of-
fered me a challenge was crumbling, and I did not know
what to do.

“Jade?” I ask quietly while tapping on the door.

 Life After Suicide

[141]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Jade will you please tell me what’s wrong?” I plead.

“You’re the Anti-Christ, the Zetas told me! Please go
away, I love you too much to kill you, don’t you under-
stand that? Please, love me enough to get away! Please!”
Jade’s voice exclaims this.
“Who are the Zetas?” I ask in a belittling tone. “Are
those damn Mormons showing up while I’m at work?”
Silence is the response I get.
“Fucking Joseph Smith.” I mutter this, but I guess she
heard me anyway.
“Stop acting like an idiot!” She screams “Stop act-
ing!!!” She shrieks this last line.
“Fine, when you’re done being schizophrenic we’ll
talk” I respond, wondering if this was overly harsh; won-
dering if she was actually having some sort of Cronen-
burgian psycho-sexual meltdown.

I wander out of the apartment, still in my bathrobe

and light up one of the remaining Parliments. I hate
how you can’t enjoy a ciggarette anywhere here. Ev-
eryone I meet on the patios at the clubs remind me of
the middle-aged buisness dames you’d see in an airport
smokers lounge. Jade was more than an exception, the
first night I met her outside the Circle Bar I remember
how hard it was to say hello because I was telling myself
if I was lucky this was the girl I would marry.
I’m like that, so used to not opening up to anyone
that I tell myself very intense things about people with-
out any real proof that I should have any sort of insight
into their personalities. That’s one of the problems with
my generation, we’ve seen too many movies, and base
too many conversations on reruns of Friends even if we
dress in black and swear we don’t own a T.V.
Now, only three months since meeting, our entire
first conversation slips my mind. Remembering how I
[142]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

don’t remember makes me remember someone else. Her

name is Judy Jetton. Ninety-nine percent of the things I
think about have me remembering Judy Jetton.

Conrad Conner had been living in Los Angeles, at-

tempting to be a writer for six months. Now he was back
in Tennessee, and though his friend’s feined excitement,
they were disappointed in our hero. Only days ago he
was having great luck as a writer, and now he was apply-
ing for work at the Irish pub? The only conclusion they
could reach was that Conrad Conner was a big fat liar.
His friend Kelly, her parents owned the pub. She had
just returned home from up north where she had been
attending the University of Wyoming... She said it was
for medical reasons; Medical reasons nobody really
wanted to delve too deeply into. Not because they didn’t
care for her, but because her standoffish reactions to the
most simple of questions frightened everybody. She said
Conrad could start as soon as he was ready, he was ready
immidiately.
He picked up on the disappointment from everyone
around him. He began to realize some of his friends had
placed their fantasies on his shoulders. That they would
be ready for Hollywood one day, and that Conrad would
be there to roll out the red-carpet. After they realized
their dreams were built on a foundation of sand, he was
pretty sure they hated him. He was pretty sure he hated
them now too.
“Fuck them,” he thought.
“Fuck this city,” he thought.
“Fuck it all.” This became his silent credo.

§
[143]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Jade will you please let me in? You are the only rea-
son I haven’t left this town.” I say.
“Why did you even come back here, you hate it so
much, you hate everyone so fucking much.” She says
through the still locked door.
“You know what? Your band sucks, and all you do is
play a Goddamn tamborine, how embaressing for you.
I’m embaressed for you.”
“Fuck you, you nobody. At least I have a band, what
do you have?”
“I have some dignity.”
“You have a job at Staples.”

She was right. I have a minimum wage job at a busi-

ness supply store, a job I’m deciding here and now I’m
never going to show up for ever again.

“If you don’t open this door Jade...” I say.

“If I open the door, I swear to God, I’m going to kill
you. If you don’t get in your car and drive as far away as
you can, I’m going to find you, and then I’m going to kill
you.” She says.

I’ve never heard Jade sound so honest.

“So long.” I say.

§

When Conrad opens the door, slightly nauseus from

his dread, he is not comforted when he sees the large-
hunched over-sweating-black man he would unfairly turn
into his sounding board. A slightly handicapped shell was
the sort of friend Conrad Conner could never be unhap-
py with. This simple man who called himself, “Red,” was
[144]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

so beautifully trapped in a world alien to any that society

might care to celebrate. He was quick to horrify Conrad,
but only at first...

“Who are you?”

“I’m Conrad.”
“I’m Red.”
“Nice to meet you Red.”
“Cousin Conrad...” Red hesitates while taking a big,
long whiff of Conrad’s hair.

An immobile Conrad quickly moves his eyes around

hoping to see Kelly.

“Cousin Conrad, I love you man,” says Red.

“I love you too, Red.”
“Are you racist?”
“No, no I’m not racist.”
“You like black girls Cousin Conrad?” Red asks this
question with what seems to be a hint of artifice.
“I mean, yeah sure, I mean, I’ve never dated a black
girl, but that doesn’t mean I...”

Conrad’s first thought is that Red must be suffering

from an insanity respectable in it’s emcompassing range.
He wonders why the place is empty except for this Red
character, and then a door at the end of the pub opens.
Kelly walks out.

“Cousin Kelly! You met Conrad?” Red asks.

“Yes Red, we’re friends,” Kelly says.
“Cousin Kelly?”
“Yes Red?”
“I love you.”

[145]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

So lets see, I have 50 dollars in the bank. I have a car

with half a tank of gas. Where the hell do I go now? I
can’t go back to Tennessee, that’s for sure. I tried that
once, no Conrad Conner does not belong anywhere
south of the mason-dixon-line.
I decide to call Judy, knowing this is a stupid, ridicu-
lous decision. I dial. It’s ringing. She picks up.

“What?” She says it in this belittling tone.

God, what a bitch.

“Hey there hotpants, guess who?” I ask.

“I thought I asked you to stop calling.” She says.
“I’ll stop calling when you stop picking up.” I retort,
still trying to sound overly confident.
“I did stop picking up, then I sent you a few text mes-
sages asking you to please stop calling, and you call me
almost every other night even still. My mother has told
her lawyer about you.” she says
“I do not, what are you talking about?!” I ask.

I’m enraged. I really don’t believe I call her that of-

ten.

“You fucking drunk, of course you don’t remember, I

can tell from the messages you’re drunk, slurring your ‘I
love you’s.’”
“Listen, why the fuck would I call you? Do you know
how well things are going for me out here this time
around? I’ve got a job writing for a website. I’m making
six figures, why the fuck would I call some waitress in
Tennessee when I can fuck girls that work at Capital
[146]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Records?”

Click.
Fuck me.

“So you showed up early Conrad.” Kelly says.

“I thought you said to be here at 10 o’clock?”
“I did, it’s 9... Daylight savings.” Kelly says.
“Ah, My bad.”

The door swings open. In walks a dark haired girl,

and Conrad can’t help but immidiately study her facial
structure. Nice eyes, nice lips, a gap in her front teeth,
nose way too big...
”...and Christ, what a body!” Conrad thinks.

“Where is everybody?” This girl asks Kelly, looking

past Conrad.
“Daylight savings,” Conrad says.

The girl is about to respond, and her furrowed brow

has Conrad thinking that he has somehow already ir-
ratated her. Before words eminate from the girl’s open
mouth...

“Cousin Judy!” Red exclaims.

“Hi Red, how are you doing?” Judy says shifting her
eyes toward Red.
“Oh, you know sistah, I’m doin what I can. You know
Cousin Conrad?”
Judy hurries toward the bathroom as she says destinc-
tively, “No.”

[147]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Mom, I’m coming home.” I say

“You’re what? No you aren’t.” My mother responds.
“What, you don’t want me home? I’m gonna go back to
school, I want to teach.” I say.
“You’ve already dropped out twice, do you really want
to put your father and I through that again?” She asks.
I hang up. I used to be the golden son; the Conner fam-
ily jewel. I would be the first to graduate college, the
first to perform on Broadway, the first man to reign over
all as king of America. But as is the proclomation of the
geeky-eyed new wave prophet Elvis Costello, it was just
a boulevard of broken dreams.
I realize I don’t have enough cash to make it past
Needles CA. I can’t believe I’m really going to do this.
I pick my phone back up, and I dial.

“Mamaw?!” I say sounding as happy as I can.

“Conrad! How are you sweetie?” Mamaw says.
“Well, I’m good, but I miss home. I can’t be away a
minute longer, problem is I can’t afford the gas.”
“Well I will go to the credit union right now and put
money in your account. Wouldn’t your mother do it?”
“I, uh, want it to be a surprise.”
“How sweet, I’m so excited Conrad!”
“Me too! I love you Mamaw, I’ll see you soon!”
“I love you too,” she concludes jubilantly, and then
she hangs up.

I feel like a real asshole, like I just earned yet another

circle in Hell. Do I dare go home now? I guess I have to.
Shit, it’s happening again.

§
[148]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Conrad’s first day of work is over, and he has found

that he is enamoured with the dark haired girl, the
somewhat renowned for being the bartender’s girlfriend:
Judy. As it turns out, the bartender and Conrad went to
the same highschool. This barkeep’s name is Billy; he is
older but not too old, he is atheletic but only kind of,
and his family is rich; They are not very bright.
The next few days Conrad makes much more of an
effort to speak with Billy than he does Judy, who had
already made it clear she thought his attempted glibness
and witicisms were boarish. She had no problem telling
Conrad frankly that his presence was entirely wasted
on her. This didn’t detour our hero, instead Conrad
would find out what it was Billy had. He would learn the
charming qualities that he could emulate if Big Bill was
ever foolish enough to throw away the angel-demon of a
creature Conrad had been searching for all his life.

“So, it’s cool we both went to Boddingtons, I remem-

ber you were a few years ahead.” Conrad says.
“Yeah, I guess that is cool. Listen, I run this workout
clinic.” Billy says handing Conrad a buisness card, “I
think I could help you out.”
“Oh yeah? I don’t really like working out, I’ve learned
that a pack a day keeps the pounds off even better than
the pushups and benchpresses.” Conrad responds.
“Ah.”
“Skinny is the new buff.”
“If you say so.”
“Brown is the new black.”
”What?”
“Nothing.”

...and that was that. This is the last conversation

[149]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Conrad would attempt with Billy, and his infatuation for

Judy would become a sarcastic lack of respect. A lack of
respect that would eventually lead Judy to Conrad’s arms
from which she would crush him from within.

“Yeah man, I’m coming home.” I say to Head via the

phone.
“Listen, there is something I need to tell you.” Head
says.
“What is it man?” I say, and then my cellular phone
makes a beeping noise because my friend Faith is calling.
“Wait, hold on one sec.”

I press a key and say...

“Hello?”
“Hey Conrad, it’s Faith, and Head is fucking Judy.”
“What?! She’s dating Jim Robinson now.” I say not
exactly taking in whats been said.
“No, they broke up. Head lost his virginity to your ex-
girlfriend, and I’ve been drinking all night, I don’t know
why. Things are great with me and Jeff, but, she fucking
took Head’s virginity! He was supposed to be your
friend. She just wants to fuck everybody up, first she
fucked you up, now she’s going to fuck him up. I hate
her!” Faith says.
“I hate her too.” I respond quietly and I hang up the
phone.

I feel like I should hate her, but a voice in my head

insists that this is not a possibility.

[150]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Conrad and Judy are arguing on the floor again. Re-

becca the manager walks over to quiet them down. By
this time Conrad has been working in the pub for about
a month, and his at work conversations with Judy have
become regular and heated.

“Guys, the customers are starting to stare,” Rebecca

suggests.
“Listen, I’m sorry Rebecca, I really am, but if you
could do me a favor and tell Judy here that you don’t
need to go to school to be a great artist, and you need to
see somebody’s work before you tell them that it’s ridic-
ulous, I think maybe she’d calm down a little.” Conrad
says, eyes still fixed on Judy’s.
“Um...” Rebecca stammers.
Judy speaks, “I’m sorry Rebecca, I was just trying to
state an opinion because some people are so arrogant
and simultaneously weak that they don’t even realize
every other word they say is an attempt at getting a com-
pliment.”
“Oh Jesus, you are such a bi...” Conrad excitedly
begins, but before he can finish this soul-felt vulgarity
Rebecca intercedes.
“CONRAD! Um, Conrad, how about you take a cig-
gerette break.” she says.

Conrad walks over and sits down beside Red who is

sitting in a chair at the back of the resteraunt, rocking
back and forth while staring at the floor.

“Red, how is it that certain girls can make you so

damn angry, and you can’t decide whether you want to
hit them, or take them twenty minutes out of town to
a small chapel, marry them, and be with them forever?”
Conrad asks, eyes continuing to watch his verbal spar-
[151]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ring partner.
“Cousin Conrad, what you think about Tonya?” Red
asks.

Tonya works at the pub too. The other two male wait-
ers think she is gorgeous, but for some reason Conrad
doesn’t see it. She’s a nice enough girl, but something
about her smell, the way she moves... Something about
Tonya bothers Conrad, and he’s yet to figure out why.

“She’s nice.” Conrad says, still staring at you-know-

who.
“I think she’d go out on a date with you. I love her,
but you know I ain’t gonna fuck her or nothin. I’m mar-
ried, I ain’t gonna do that to my wife, but I love Tonya,
but like a sistah you know? I mean I fucked white girls
before when I was younger, but Tonya’s too young for
me cous, you want me to see if she’ll go on a date with
you? I think she would.” Red says.
“Uh, sure, whatever. Red, what the hell do girls want
from us anyway? I’m not a chauvenist or anything, but
Jesus, sometimes I think all they care about is money
and muscles and cheesy fucking frat boys with no per-
sonality.”

Conrad is now looking at the bartender.

“I’m gonna talk to Tonya after work, she’s givin me a

ride home. Leave it to ol’ Red, you know I be takin care
of you, don’t you Cousin?”
“Sure Red, sure.”
“Can I borrow about 2.50? I’m gonna buy me some of
that Powerade.”

§
[152]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Judy’s answering machine: “I’m either on the other

line, or I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll
call you back, or hey, why not just call me back. BEEP.”
“Judy, you bitch. You think I wouldn’t find out? He’s
just a kid! He’s just a confused kid! How did it feel to
fuck a virgin? Did it feel good? Were you thinking of me,
and how much it would hurt me you sadistic whore? I
FUCKING HATE YOU!”

Why, why, why is this happening? Yesterday I wasn’t

on top of the world or anything, but I was getting by.
I had a typical job, a typical girlfriend, a typical social
life... I was used to it, I wasn’t asking for anything spec-
tacular, but look at me now! I’m broken, I’m shattered,
I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m toying with the
idea of driving off this freeway and hoping for great,
great physical pain. My God, can things get any worse?

Work is over; Conrad and Judy haven’t spoken since

Conrad’s ciggarette break. Billy leaves before everyone
else, and Conrad wonders why Judy isn’t going with. He
then realizes that Billy and Judy didn’t talk all evening.
The workers disperse into the parking lot. Conrad just
happens to be parked next to Judy. He gets into his car,
and looks to the left for one last glimpse, and she’s look-
ing down with a stone-face. Conrad sees that if this girl
knew how, she would be crying. He gets out of his car,
opens Judy’s passenger door and sits down.

“Ciggerette?” Conrad asks.

Judy refrains from looking at Conrad, but holds her

hand out implying that she does indeed want to smoke.
[153]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Conrad places a filtered stick of nicotine gently into

what he considers to be the softest hand his has ever
brushed against.
“See you tomorrow?” Conrad asks
Judy nods, and Conrad drives home thinking about
how he hasn’t cried in two years, not since the funeral of
an elderly aunt that meant more to him than anybody’s
aunt has ever meant to anyone.

I turn on the radio hoping to hear jazz on some pub-

lic radio station. This is what I hear instead:

“Conrad Conner, a 22 year old caucasion with brown

hair is the number one suspect. Police believe he stabbed
19 year old Allen, locked her in the room, and skipped
town. His parents told police today that he had contact-
ed them and that he suggested he was heading from Los
Angeles back to his hometown of Ruthaford Tennessee.
Suspect is driving a blue Camero and may have on a pair
of plastic rimmed glasses.”
“Conner, to most a seemingly lovable bohemian self-
indulgent has no police record, but is suspected to have
a history of violence within the context of his romantic
relationships. We go live to Rutherford Tennessee with
more on this story...”

Oh fuck. This isn’t happening, this can’t be happen-

ing.

“Ruthaford, the small tourist town in Southeastern

Tennessee is usually a quiet town, but today it is in an
uproar. Hometown everyman, Conrad Conner’s suspect-
ed act of homocide began as a shock, but many are now
[154]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

saying it makes sense, a lot of sense. Childhood friend

Ross Hartley: ‘He was depressed, but you only saw it
when he was drunk. After Judy dumped him he was
drunk more often than he was sober.’ ”

No. Hartley did not just sell me out. Fuck.

“The Judy Mr Hartley is referring to is an ex-girl-

friend of Conner’s. Judy Jetton and the suspect worked
together at a small Irish pub called O’Briens, where
Jetton still works. We caught up with her and asked her
if Conner had shown any signs of violent behavior when
they were together. Instead of responding herself, she
let Conner do the talking by activating her cell-phone’s
answering machine.”

I hear my voice shouting what I had only shouted

three or four hours ago. “Fucking” and “bitch,” are
censored, but they have allowed “sadistic whore” to be
heard all over the nation.

------------------------
•
----------------

Monday

“No Ross, you can’t tell him, it could spoil every-

thing,” Bogdonovich says.
“But, one of his best friends has been fucking this
girl for the entire four months, she’s not worth all this
trouble,” I say.
“She is worth all the trouble. I didn’t do this so Con-
rad could find eternal happiness, but I needed Conrad to
get away with this experiment in the first place. I don’t
[155]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

expect you to understand what this will do for psychol-

ogy, but no matter the outcome it is going to do a lot.
You tell Conrad she’s bedding Head Donovan and it
will misdirect his fantasy. Tell him she’s still dating that
Robinson kid, whom she obviously doesn’t give two shits
about, that’s what he needs to hear.”
“That’s what he wants to hear.”
“Exactly.”
“But Bogdanovich.”
“But nothing Ross, it’s gonna be better for everybody
in the longrun.”

It’s hard to be best friends with a guy like Conrad

Conner. His success stories are the answered prayers of
the insane. Somehow all the weird TV shows and movies
he watched made him into one of their deranged char-
acters, and he did his part to make his world like theirs.
He made his world into a complete fantasy, and now and
then he would convince me to come along for the ride.
I never wanted to, but I was the only person who un-
derstood that this poor bastard deserved the pity that I
offered him.
Bogdanovich on the other hand, I never expected this
from him. He used to be quieter than me, this ‘black,’
afro-saxan in a class of rich white kids (Southern rich
white kids at that). He was diagnosed with slight autism,
but he got to college and found “Jungian psychology,”
whatever that is, and it turned him into this driven, hun-
gry madman. He’s no better than Conrad now, maybe
he’s worse.
I go back to my apartment, an apartment Conrad
hasn’t left in four months. He has started locking himself
in my second bedroom. He just draws all these pictures
of the same cartoon rabbit, and has been reading these
books by Carl Jung that Bogdanovich gave him. When
[156]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

this started, he was just excited about the project. Now

I’m pretty sure he’s clinically mad.

“Ross?!!! Is that you? Do you have weed?”

“Yeah, you want to come out here and smoke it?”
“Could you just slip some under the door? I’m naked
and I can’t bring myself to put on any clothes.”
“Can’t bring yourself to put your clothes on? What?”
“Lets just talk through the door. You know, Jung says
the door is a symbol in the collective unconcious of tran-
scendent movement.”
“Movement huh?”
“How are things with Lisa?”
“Things are really good right now.”
“But see man, your just like me, and she’s so much
like Judy. It’s masochism man, you and I we’re masoch-
ists, and they just don’t get it. If only they could accept
that they are sadists.”

Conrad’s always talking about this masochism shit.

It’s bullshit, but he finds peices of bullshit that he likes
and diatribes about them for months and months before
something new comes along. I go along with it because
I too understand what it’s like to be lonely; to be stuck
inside your own mind.

“I dunno man, she says she doesn’t want to have sex

anymore, but that she really cares about me.”
“She knows that deep down you want to be refused
your desires. That for you no sex is more erotic. Uncon-
ciously, you dig a refusal of the most enjoyable copula-
tion you’ve ever experienced. It’s so fucked up. Just like
me and Judy man. Just like Judy. Is she still dating Jim
Robinson, or has she moved on? I know she doesn’t give
two shits about him. Not really.”
[157]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Yeah man, she’s still dating him.”

“When this is all over I’m gonna kill that punk.”
“He’s not such a bad guy.”
“I don’t give a fuck man, I’m gonna kill him. You
gonna pass me some weed or not?”
“Put some pants on if you want to smoke.”
“FUCK YOU!” He screams, and doesn’t say a word
the rest of the night.

I’m worried about him, but what do I do at this

point? At least everything is set in motion. At least he
will be out of here by tomorrow, but at this point I don’t
know how it’s all gonna end up.

Tuesday (Morning)

I wake up, and the TVs on in the living room. I walk

in from my bedroom, and there is Conrad, comepletely
naked, sitting on the hardwood floor, rocking back and
forth. He’s muttering the word “freedom” over and over
very quietly.

“Hey buddy.” I say.

He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. He’s watch-

ing a picture of himself on CNN.

“The execution was scheduled for today Ross, they

killed that guy. They killed me.”
“You must be really happy!” I say trying to sound
enthusiastic.

God it’s such a fucked up situation, what were they

thinking?

[158]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“See Ross, I realized I’m not a masochist after all,

I’m just a conniving sadist. I did all this because I’m a
sadist. But I’m ashamed of my sadism, I’m not going to
be ashamed anymore.” Conrad says, while continuing his
rocking -- back and forth.

It’s 10 am, Bogdonovich should be here by now.

“Do you get it?” Conrad asks.

”No” I say.

Sometimes I try to just agree with him. Sometimes I

just tell him no.

“She’s fucking Headley, Ross, I heard it on the radio

last night. She’s been fucking him since the beginning.”

I’m thinking about how Bogdanovich isn’t going to

like this as the door to the apartment opens. Speak of
the devil.

“Ok guys...” Bogdanovich starts before admiring the

strange picture Conrad has created with his presence in
the living room

“Jesus, man, put some clothes on. What did I tell you
about watching television? Movies and recordings from
before only, you aren’t supposed to be seeing this.”
“She’s fucking Headley, Bogdanovich.”
“You told him Ross? You told him and your letting
him watch TV?”
“I was in bed.” I say.

I want to tell him this isn’t my deal, that I dont even

know why I’m going along with this, but I just don’t
[159]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

even care anymore.

“Ross didn’t tell me, I listened to the radio last night.

I heard the telephone message I left the day I got ar-
ressted. That was four months ago. She’s been fucking
him for four months, and you didn’t tell me.”
“You don’t exist right now! I told you that! I thought
you understood that! I think you’ve been locked up for
too long.”
“I sure fucking have, and I don’t even fucking know
whats going on out there! You people keep lying to me,
your all trying to fuck my head up. My HEAD!!! Hahaha,
get it? He’s not mine anymore, he’s hers, and she’s his.
What the fuck are we doing?!!!” Conrad says this all rap-
idly with a twisted grin showing on his crazed face.

It does look like Conrad’s gone crazy, but to me, well,

it seems like he’s finally making sense. At first Bogdanov-
ich seemed irratated, but now he looks intrigued. Like
maybe this is happening just the way he wanted it to.

“So are you saying that Ross did nothing to really

hinder you from watching TV and listening to the radio,
and you had the willpower to keep yourself away from
these temptations up until last night???”
“Yup, yup, yup.” says Conrad, who is still rocking on
the floor, very quickly now.
“And today they announce and perform the execu-
tion. Amazing. Conrad, get your clothes on, Judy’s at
the compound. We’re about to see the results we’ve been
waiting for.”

Tuesday (Afternoon)

I’m walking up the drive to Lisa’s apartment. Conrad

[160]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

was adament I go with him and Bogdonovich, but I

just couldn’t deal with this weird shit, I just wanted to
see Lisa. I didn’t even call her, I was afraid she’d tell me
she was busy. I’ve never just shown up on her doorstep
before, it’s not my style. I peak in her window, and my
smile fades when I see her giving Jim Robinson a blow-
job. I quickly drive back to my apartment where I will
write a suicide note, and then just like Ian Curtis, I’ll
make myself die.

--------------
•
----------

“I hope everyone had a pleasent lunch. If everyone

could once again close their eyes? Good.
Now imagine it is the day after Conrad and Judy had
their first meaningful moment in the parking lot. It is
the day after Conrad gave her that ciggerette in silence
and she had appreciated it.
Now it’s a week after that. Conrad, the hero, has now
kissed this girl and has spent every evening in her com-
pany. Sometimes they talk and they laugh, sometimes
they fight just like in the beginning. She is still a mystery
to Conrad, and whether she’s yelling at him or holding
him close to her, he loves her. He has never been in love
before.
Another week has gone by, and Conrad sits with Judy
in the same spot in which he gave her that first cigarette.
She tells him that she had fallen for him, but when they
kissed she realized she felt nothing real for him. The
first girl Conrad Conner has ever loved feels nothing for
him.”
“Dr. Bogdanovich, what is the meaning of all this?”
“Will you please close your eyes Mr. Kirkpatrick?
[161]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

You’ll understand everything when I am finished.”

“I demand to know now Dr. Bogdonovich. How dare
you treat us as students in a primary school, telling us to
close our eyes like little children.”
“Randall, this is the first of the chosen to become a
millionaire of his own devices, Lance and I have been
seeing him as a therapist for seven months, and even
with our sacred knowledge he has opened our eyes in
many ways, do you concur Lance?”
“Indeed I do William, the Zetas told us we were to
induct a new member, a member with the courage and
ability to tell us something concrete about the human
race that we, as of yet, have no real way of knowing. We
asked Dr. Bogdanovich to do just that, and he assures us
that he has. If you have anything else to add Mr. Kirk-
patrick, you will do so at the end of the presentation or
there will not be a lottery, and your Katie will be this
year’s sacrifice, do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Dr. Bogdanovich, please proceed.”
“Thank you...um, may I say Mr. Kirkpatrick, I under-
stand that much of this sounds like too much informa-
tion, but as the flow has already been interrupted I may
as well explain that every peice of this is important. The
knowledge that I am hoping is being properly com-
municated has to do with the human soul, and I must
communicate the hero exactly as he saw himself. You
must become the hero, or else the evidence I have gone
to great lengths to secure will indeed sound like a child’s
fairy tale.
Now everyone, close your eyes.
A month has gone by and Conrad has made sure his
schedule at the pub has him working at different times
than Judy, and he has kept away from the woman he
loves. And yes gentlemen, holders of the ancient knowl-
[162]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

edge, he truly does love her, and though the secrets have
not yet been given to me, please believe I do understand
the true nature of such a word as love, and both sirs will
allow me that, I have no doubt. Surely I would not even
be allowed here if I had not learned it’s properties?”
“Dr. Bogdonovich, please do not become nervous,
you were doing fine before Mr. Kirkpatrick stepped out
of line. We would not have allowed you here if you did
not understand the basic gnostic precepts as they have
been handed down for all to find. We are merely here to
see, not whether or not you understand them; this we
know. We are here to decide if what you’ve done with
them is worthy of acceptance.”
“Yes sir, sorry sirs, no more digressions, I assure you.”
“Quite alright Doctor.”
“Conrad and Judy at long last run into one another
at a local bar and share a friend’s embrace. As Conrad
is afraid of what he might say if he drinks around Judy,
he tells her he is on his way out to meet somebody. To
Conrad’s surprise Judy suggests Conrad call her the next
day, she makes no mistake in implying that this sugges-
tion is a desire the two of them begin spending time
together once again. The time away proved to Judy that
in the end she liked that he loved her.”

---------------
•
----------

“After secluding yourself from the real world for a

long enough time your memories fade away and your
goals recreate them,” says Conrad. “The idea of fullfilling
this goal, it is death. I don’t have high hopes anymore.”
“Then you can appreciate my side of this experience.
What we are doing for the life of the mind will be
[163]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

remembered, and will make these psychologists per-

scribing radical drugs to children, while expressing that
science has no soul, think twice. We will place the spirit
of man back in the equation. Whether God is dead or
not, the human necessitates we at least celebrate the ab-
surdity of his existance. When this is over you will write
your great American novel sitting on some sunny beach
somewhere, and I will be admitted to the order.” This is
how Bogdanovich responds.

Bogdanovich and Conrad aren’t really listening to

each other. Their heads are both so cluttered with their
own rapidity, it hurts enough trying to focus on the
string of jargon coming out of each man’s own mouth.

“We’re here.” Bogdanovich says slowing his VW con-

vertable to a halt.
Conrad attempts to say “Already?” He vomits out the
window.

Terror has struck. The last part of Conrad’s life

flashes before his eyes.
…

I can’t believe it. She’s sitting here in the car, we

haven’t said one word to each other all night. There is
no other explination, she is fucking somebody else. I
won’t believe it.

“Judy are you...” I start.

“Conrad, it’s over,” she says.

I’m crying, oh fuck, I’m crying. Don’t cry, don’t be

emotional, Oh God, why am I weeping. I’m stopping.
I’m stopping.
[164]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

She’s disgusted. I glance over at her, she has no look of

consolation, oh my God, she really is disgusted. I can see
she doesn’t want to be, but I see it. Why can I see it?
…

“Conrad?! Conrad! Speak to me pal! Speak to me!”

Bogdanovich is shouting.

Conrad is completely motionless except for his

twitching eyes and mumbling mouth. He is still in the
passengers seat. He is dilereaous.
…
I’m in my room. From my vast digital personal com-
puter collection of digitized music I have compiled the
six most depressing songs I have. I am playing them
on repeat and I am smoking my 26th ciggarette of the
day. This is the fourth day in a row I have not bothered
dawning any clothes other than this bathrobe. I got a
call from work today saying they understand that I say
I’m very very sick, but that if they don’t see a doctor’s
note by seven o’clock tonight I will not have a serving
posistion come tomorrow.
As I mill this over I allow my bathrobe to fall to the
ground and I take baby steps toward the shower. I’d
shoot myself if I wasn’t so afraid of guns. The cold water
hitting my naked body stings enough. I clean myself. I
dry myself. I put on my clothes and I drive toward the
pub.
I’m in my car, I’m driving, but the 29th ciggarette is
not calming me down, it’s making me more naseus. I’m
deciding right now that I will just drive to a bar I have
no affiliation with and get good and drunk. There is no
point in me torturing myself brutally; not for minimum
wage. I’m going to drink scotch, and I’m going to go to
the ritzy Grand Hotel Buvette to do it. That will show
[165]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

them.
As I arrive and begin looking about the bar, I real-
ize that for some reason it is especially crowded. I spot
a face at the end that looks very familiar. I haven’t seen
this man in five years, it’s Braun Bogdanovich and from
the look of him he’s done well for himself. I’m a little
embaressed to sit down beside him and reintroduce my-
self, but I do it anyway, probobly because the only vacant
seat left has predestined my arrival and secured itself to
the right side of this former cronie.

“Bogdanovich!” I say. He squints for just a milisecond

and then lights up and responds by shouting my name at
equal volume.

He is telling me that he has already secured a PHD in

Jungian psychology. That he had written a book entitled
“The Religious Athiest.” That it had done very well in
several European intellectual communities and he was a
millionaire.

“Wow, well, I dropped out of school. I have ambi-

tions, but right now I’m in the process of getting fired
from my job serving food and drink to people in a bar
not quite as nice as this one. You don’t happen to need
anyone to work for you do you? Maybe at this publishing
house you are now co-owner of?”
“Actually Conrad, there is a position that I could
offer you, but, well... lucritive is sort of a mild term for
this job. But I can garuntee it will pay well. In fact I can
garuntee that if you agree to this you will be bringing in
more than the average middle-class American will see in
their lifetime. Interested?”
“Well, I mean, of course. But what is the catch, other
than it’s more than lucritive? Is it manual labor?”
[166]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“Not manual labor, emotional labor. The first prereq-

uisite the candidate must have is unrequited love. Have
you experienced unrequited romantic love for some-
one?”
“Why else would I be in this bar crowded with people
I don’t know in my hometown downing...what is this...
my third J&B?”
“Tell me about her. What’s her name?”
“Judy Jetton.”
…
Bogdanovich once again shakes Conrad.

“Her name is Judy Jetton.” These are Conrad’s first

concious words since Bogdanovich had brought him
inside, put an ice pack on his head, and waited for the
subject of his greatest case study to awaken from the
dilerium.

“My God Conner, you went into shock. You were

sweating, I’ve never seen anything like it. This is great
stuff!”
“Great stuff? I feel like shit. I don’t want to see her
Braun, I can’t.”
“You’ve waited half a year for this. Secluded yourself
from everyone. Became a non-entity, for what? For noth-
ing?!”
“Don’t get melodramatic on me pal. I know I have to
see her, I just don’t look forward to it.”
“That in itself is interesting. You see...”
Conrad interrupts. “Don’t start diatribing Doc. Let’s
get this over with. What’s the story you’ve given her?”
“I told her I was your friend, I made myself appear
unseemly as possible. I waited until right after the execu-
tion and after she saw the Platonic image of you fried,
after I watched her shed a single tear over the man
[167]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

she once bedded, the man she took great part in getting
aprehended. I grabbed her, tied her up in my basement,
and told her I was going to kill her as I gagged her.”
“Jesus, and now you want me to go down there and
see if she immidiately turns into a crazy?”
“No, I want you to rescue her. I want you to play
hero, and I want you to insist that the other Conrad
Conner was illusory, that he was the illustration of every-
thing she hated about you. I want you to do that, and I
want to sit here and watch this monitor and study her
reactions.”

Conrad does not want to hear any more. He started

this ball rolling and he’s going to get it all over with. He
walks to the basement and he opens the door.

------------
•
------

“Now, Miss Jetton, I didn’t say that you were crazy.

I’m your attorney, I’m on your side here.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘Tell me what you think hap-
pened.’ I know what happened!”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“I’m not crazy!”
…
He walks slowly, but surprisingly and unabashadly
with real bravery. His fear is turned into determination
for an incubated goal he conspired to under the influ-
ence of misdefined social boredom.

He makes his first mistake quickly and confidently.

“Hey there hotpants!” He says.

[168]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

If Judy weren’t gagged she would be screaming, and

her expression is much more unnerving than any blood
curdling shriek could ever succeed in conveying. His self
awareness is immidiately dissapated, and he rushes to
Judy, uncorking her mouth, allowing her overwhelmed
sense of madness freedom to echoe throughout the
vacant basement.

“It’s alright Judy, I’m here to save you. I’ve gone to

such greath lengths to secure your rescue, it was the only
way I could save myself. We are one, parrallel lives, you
said that yourself!”

Judy remains silently catatonic.

“You treated me like shit, and I agreed to play a

shwashbuckling Prince Charming all the same.” His
emotions are getting the best of him and the words he
has rehersed for the better of six months are devolving
to chaotic self-obsessed theorized truths.
“Jim Robinson is dead Judy; with my face and my
memory he was electrocuted and you watched him die.”
-----
“What is it you need to tell me?”
“I’m no good for you, I’m crazy. I really am crazy.”
“I’m crazy too Judy. Who isn’t? I love you, and you love
me, what else is there?”
“I’m not crazy like everyone else. I see things that aren’t
there, everything comes full circle for me.”
“What do you mean by everything coming full circle?”
“I saw Conrad today, he isn’t dead, and he’s dangerous.
I have to go away, I’m not sure where, but I have to go
away.”
“Watching that execution wasn’t easy for me either, part
of me misses him too, but can’t you let a dead man rest?
[169]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

He can’t hurt you anymore. Don’t let him.”

“Headley, you just don’t understand.”
…
“You killed him? You killed Daniel?!” She questions
half crazed.
“Well, yeah, in a sense. It wasn’t hard; A few pharme-
cueticals with a few very involved brainwashing sessions
and some plastic surgery. He became me, and I became
nobody. I’ve been in Ross Hartley’s apartment for six
months, I’ve been and will continue to be a ghost with
a pulse. Hey now, listen, I didn’t even know about any
of it, not really, not until earlier today. I’m getting paid.
See, we’re getting paid. Why are you crying?”

Judy stops crying in accordance with his will.

“It’s all too much, it’s too much.” she manages to say.
“Marry me Judy, we can go anywhere. I have plenty of
money, we can go anywhere and just relax. We can start
over. I know part of you still loves me.” He says this try-
ing to sound comforting.
“And part of me still very much hates you!” Judy ex-
claims very clearly.
“How? How can you hate your own personal Jesus
Christ? I gave up my entire life for you. I took the sins
of that fucking bastard who you, and me, I sacrificed
myself!” Conrad explains violently.
“It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re sick
Conrad, you are sick.” She says. He sees she is beginning
to pity him.
“Part of you still loves me!”
“Part of me still loves Jim Robinson too, and a lot of
other mother fuckers, but that doesn’t mean I want to
be in the same room with them, much less marry them.”
“I fucking killed for you! I killed myself for you!”
[170]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“Stop screaming at me!”

“Do you really think you love Headley?”

He is now distressed that she hasn’t embraced his

project’s philosophy, and could not help but bring up his
former friend.

“What?”
“Do you love him?”
”No Conrad.”
“Then marry me!”
…
“Don’t leave Judy, I love you. I love you so much!”
“Sweet Head, I’ll come back. I’ll come back because I
need you.”
…
“I’d rather shut myself in an oven than marry some-
one like you!”
“Would you marry Head?”
“Maybe. If not Headley, somebody like Headley.”
“What the hell does he have that I don’t?! Are we re-
ally so different?”
“You’re screaming again. You’ve lived several more
lives than Headley Donovan has. You’re like me, you’ve
been ruined; this entire escapade proves that. I don’t
want to be with someone like me, except for sometimes,
but even then, not really.”
“You don’t make any sense.”
“Untie me Conrad, there isn’t anything else to say.”
“Yes there is! I demand you start making sense!”
“You don’t want sense, you want fantasy, and I’m
giving it to you. Instead of imagining you killed the
part of yourself that I hate, imagine you killed the part
of yourself that loves me, that loves Headley. Go find a
new fantasy Conrad Conner, a fantasy I don’t have to be
[171]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

involved with because I am done, finished. Untie me.”

A voice is heard from the stairs...

“Put your hands up Richie.”

Conrad instinctually turns and there is Bogdanovich

holding a covered trey, playing the role of a bewildered
butler.

“I’m sorry Conrad, it’s been an interesting few

months,”he says with his body continuing to shake.

He removes the sterling silver cover from the sterling

silver trey. Beneath is a glass container filled with water,
wires, and Richard Diabolicon’s brother Caleb, or rather
Caleb’s talking, seeing disembodied head.

“Funny how familiar faces can bring back such seem-

ingly distant memories, eh Rich?”

When the resonation of the voice coming from some

undefined prism opening hits Conrad Conner, he im-
midiately comes to the realization that his real name is
Richard Diabolicon and that he cannot decipher the
truth between the conflicting personalities in his mind.

“What have you done to me?!”

“Well, Brother, Anna had to pay for so many scien-
tists to keep me alive after you fired that bullet that I
just felt selfish. I decided that you deserved to get some
inheritance benefits too; you being the only other Dia-
bolicon left.”
“I’ll repeat my question Caleb, what have you done to
me?”
“I saved your life Brother, I turned the other cheek.”
[172]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

“Who is Conrad Conner?!”

“You are! I am! I watched you Rich, I always listened
to you, every damn word! Then I tried to give you ex-
actly what you told the wind you wanted, and you’ve
thrown it away!”
“You’re babbling!”
“I gave you your fantasy of being normal, but of
course the grass is always greener on the other side of
the fence. Suddenly Conrad Conner was fantasizing
about Rich Diabolicon, and look, I’m letting you be
both!”
“You’ve broken into my brain?!”
“And you’ve ensured that my brain is all I have left,
fair trade I think.”
“You were trying to kill me!”
“You were trying to die! Listen, lets let bigones be
bigons, I’ve shown you a life that could be yours, but
isn’t. You’re Rich Diabolicon and nothing can change
that. We’ve got to take over the family buisness, and a
head in a glass case can’t very well show up at buisness
meetings now can he? I’m just a head now Rich and it is
your fault. Let’s not think about it, lets turn a new page,
let’s go home.”
…
“And then Rich rushes out the door, and decides to
take the fork in the road that Conrad Conner might
have taken...”

Dr. Braun Bogdanovich pauses, he knows good and

well he is not finished but he is frozen. He gets the
feeling everything he’s said and thought of saying was
tape and his brain was no more than the dispensor. The
dispensor is now empty.

“I love my brother Dr. Bogdanovich.” says Caleb

[173]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Diabolicon.
“I’m not finished yet...” stammers Bogdanovich.
“Dr Bogdanovich! You will not speak over a member
of the order!” This demand is telepathically communi-
cated into Bogdanovich’s frontal lobe.
“Yes sir,” thinks Bogdanovich.
“Settle down Braun, you are by far my greatest
creation, and now that you have completed this very
in-depth explination of the project I’ve undertaken in
mind-alteration, I move that the order please sanction
my request to perform further experiments on my
brother.”
“Diabolicon, I still don’t understand the meaning in
all of this! Why was this man having us all close our eyes?
Why was he telling us all these things, most of which
were contrived by you?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions Mr. Kirkpatrick.
What you should be asking yourself is ‘Why me?’”
“Why should I ask such a question?”

Caleb looks up from his glass encasing upon the

marble topped desk to his constant companion, Anna.
She meets his gaze and presses a button on some sort of
remote control. This action results in Kirkpatrick
receding into the floor with intense speed. He responds
with only the shrieks of great physical agony.
Bogdanovich begins to feel great pangs of confusion.
He can’t quite remember how he got into this large
room; he had surely seen Caleb at the beginning, yet had
not had the slightest inclination to hide or camaflouge
any of the points it had, only minutes ago, seemed so
necessary to dispell.
“Dr. Bogdanovich, please take the pill in front of
you.”
Bogdanovich is paniced, but decides whatever fate
[174]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

this small capsule holds is surely more attractive than

whatever destiny Kirkpatrick had met beneath the
ground.
…
When Bogdanovich comes to he is no longer under
the impression that he is anyone but Richard Diaboli-
con, yet inside his mind the dreams, goals, mistakes, and
quantitative histories of at least three other men are as
clear as any of his own. What disturbs Richard the most
is the fact that these other men seem to, in many cases,
have a more legitimate quality to them than he himself
can seem to trace within the soul he currently imagines
is his own.
Rich looks about this new room he has been placed
within and notices Anna and Caleb staring at him from
a forcefield protected opening in the wall, Rich unthink-
ingly grabs the telephone beside said opening. Anna
picks up a similar looking phone on the other side.

“Hi there,” Anna says sweetly.

“Hey Anna,” Rich cooly responds.
“Caleb wants to know if you’d be interested in having
a chat with him in about an hour, in his office.”
“Why don’t you just cut to the chase. We’ve done this
enough times. You can just tell me that The Head wants
to give me yet another identity.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Bitch-tits, is that nickname offensive?
What should I call him? Dr. Cranium? The Scalp? How
about Face? He’s been such a great brother I wouldn’t
want to give him a nickname that he wouldn’t appreci-
ate.”
“He doesn’t want to give you any other identities, he
wants to make a deal with you.”
“A deal huh?! What a sport.”
[175]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Rich gets down on his knees to stare his brother in

the eyes. Caleb’s smirk infuriates Rich, as it often does.
Rich realizes he, too, is smirking and Caleb’s face trans-
forms itself into Anna’s shrinking ass. They are gone,
Rich is alone.
During his hour of solitude Rich contemplates many
things: Everything in his head feels uncomfortably
jammed into posistions already inhabited by realities
that did not want to leave, names and faces surely were
not all imaginary, but manipulated actions and environ-
ments result in terms like “truth,” and “fact,” becoming
unfathomed.
Rich’s temporal lobes swell causing his person physi-
cal agony, he finds speaking out loud forces his mind
spasms to conract in some way. He begins speaking the
lyrics to an R and B song about a call girl in love with her
customer. His compulsion to speak this piece nine times
in a row has his head achingly swimming within the mal-
nourishment of overpopulation yet again.
The whiteness of the room forces the tears to the
eyelid cliffs, there is no furnature and the texture of
everything his person contacts with is hard. The word
“Mother,” on a brightly lit bilboard is somehow confus-
ing him from inside a theoretical node within his own
spinal column. Damn The Head, he has no heart.
…
“Come on in Mr. Conner,” says this well dressed Hol-
lywood looking asshole.
“The name’s Richard, man,” I say.
“Sure it is, come in and sit down please. I imagine
that you don’t remember me, my name is Leon Swanson.
I imagine you don’t remember being employed by a man
named Wilson Willbanks either.”
“I don’t know anyone by that name. Listen, what is
[176]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

this? Are you some kind of hallucination?”

“No Mr. Conner, if all the little gadgets and machines
and computers these scientists have running are as cor-
rect as I’m assured they are, I should be the first thing in
your life you aren’t at least partially hallucinating.”
“Stop calling me Mr. Conner. How are you involved in
all this? What is all this?”
“Not only are you now a millionaire, you are also one
of the first two people in existance cured of The De-
spair.”
“What is The Despair?”
“The Despair is the result of the innate human real-
ization that one’s identity comes from chaos emoting
itself through one’s inability to control or change said
factor.”

I stand up, and open my mouth to scream, but I can’t

find any words to express the insane amount of anger
that has erupted from my overacting sense of being
confounded.

“Sir, if you will please sit back down. Let me re-em-

phasize that: A. -- I am not a hallucination and B. -- You
are now a millionaire. Please sit down and all the crazi-
ness eating away at your renovated person will be gone
in no time. I promise you.”

I sit back down, but its hard to concentrate on what

this guy is saying when I’m trying to steady myself using
a personal timeline, and my inability is the real reason I
so desperately want to hit something right now...

“You are not Richard Diabolicon, you are not, nor

have you ever actually met anyone by the name ‘Bogda-
novich.’ You are the southern middle-class suburbanite,
[177]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

Conrad Conner. The reason you have the memories of

a few other people is because you passed an audition.
You are now quite the celebrity. You are now rich. Truth
be told, before you went under two hours ago you were
feeling quite pleasent. You seemed very pleased with the
photos of you in this article you wrote for Progressive
Gentleman Monthly. Here, take a look.

\\\\\\\\\\
The Despair
by Conrad Conner
//////////

I’m depressed, and I don’t think that I’m the first person
to feel that way. It’s not a reaction to any one thing in
particular. I’ve had my heart-broken, I can’t seem to
satisfy the people in my life that I care about, I have
not seen any proof that anything I do shows any sort of
unique skill. I’m disappointed, I’m lonely, and I’m de-
pressed.

I made a decision a long time ago -- As depressed as I

have felt for a long time I won’t be satisfied until I fix
everything. My follow up to this decision was to move
around looking for a Garden of Eden that isn’t, nor has
it ever been. My manifest destiny is to end up in Holly-
wood California, and that is where I remain.

A month ago I concluded I had no choice but to return

home, to return to Tennessee. My Venice Beach room-
mate had taken to dealing cocaine to the wrong people
and I had squandered both my savings and all that my
parents were willing to lend me on an amalgamation of
things I’ll save time by calling “anxiety.”

[178]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

I decided my last stand would be an audition for a reality

television show about people, labled normal, living with
people that wore alternative lifestyles on their sleeves.
Excitingly enough this was the first audition I had been
to that showed some real promise. I guess I wear normal
on my sleeve. Brown hair, brown jacket, brown shoes,
and a blue button down everyday, I have a manuscript, I
have a dream, regular guy. Regular shmuck.

I got a call that evening, but instead of getting the news

of my being cast, my audition tape had apparently been
shown to an interested third party. This person was at
that time to remain nameless. He wanted to fly me
to South Africa as soon as possible. An hour after the
phone conversation I was flying out of the country on a
private jet.

The man who greeted me was not a man at all, but a

disembodied head vibrating some sort of character-actor
in an oscar nominated independant film kind of familiar-
ity. I would soon be educated by this 50s-matinee-impos-
sibility, this man that called himself Wilson Willbanks,
in a way no teacher had ever known how to profess. The
pop-culture obsessed journal entry of a half-manuscript
I had given the casting persons back in LA to prove I re-
ally was an aspiring writer had made a quick transference
and sudden impact. I learned that I was the perfect
antagonist to this fortunate unfortunate’s hero.

Willbanks had never known any world culture except

that of extravogance and the upper-circle glory that
comes from being born into old money. When his pain-
fully insane twin brother had shot to kill. A family
physician that only a very large sum of money could ever
[179]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

afford was signaled by a keychain. Once the twin broth-

er’s suicide had taken place the only member of the Will-
banks family left was my new teacher, the phantom; the
antethesis of Ichabod Crane’s horseman.

A few European newspapers ran the story: The Will-

banks Fortune, in accordance with the youngest son’s
dying wishes, invested itself wholly into searching out
the cure for something very broad; for depression. This
was eight years ago. Eight years it took them to develop
a computer codenamed: Bogdanovich.

This computer’s sole purpose is to run a program called

“The Transcendence Machine.” This program asks for
several lengthy human digressions and looks for specific
clusters of words and gives whatever subject under the
influence of Bogdonovich a specific group of hallucina-
tions. The end goal of this is to give a human being
immidiate perspective that is encompassing to an in-
credible degree. You, for instance don’t realize that you
are hallucinating even now. How does it feel to read that
Conrad? (or Rich... whatever you are calling yourself
now.)

“Wait, what? That’s where it stops?”

“Pretty interesting stuff you’re involved in, wouldn’t
you say Mr. Conner?”
“But it says I’m still hallucinating.”
“It what?!”

Three men in dark blue suits and large reflective sun-

glasses burst into the room.

“Willbanks has vanished,” one of them says.

“The Conner program has been run a second time,
[180]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

and Willbanks’ girl, Anna, says she watched him disap-

pear. She’s manic,” says another.
“And you, Mr. Conner, signed this yesterday, which
means we are to escort you to Rennisance Island ASAP,”
the third concludes.
The Hollywood asshole, Swanson, pipes up, “Are we
in trouble guys?”
“Oh yeah, it ‘s a Code Red,” the three government
agents say together. They pick up Conrad and put him in
the aircraft. Once seated he reads that he had quite a list
of demands to be met if he was to be quarintined, and
for the first time in quite a while our hero felt relaxed.

[181]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

____Revelation____
Conrad’s shouts became more and more violent as
the sweat became apparent and the breathing heavy.
“Red please! Red!!!”
With one more cluttered attempt to shout the man’s
name Conrad blacks out. No sooner has he found him-
self in the dark of unconciousness does Conrad awake
standing on a cloud of grey. In front of him is the sort of
chapel one might find in a more bustling area of a poor
region in the south-eastern portion of the United States.
A mass produced lighted sign with a built on arrow man-
ages stability in the skies as well. It displays the follow-
ing marquee:
[182]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

[Welcome to the Church of the Absurd Reason - Dr.

Ianesco Browne residing. “Life’s a bitch and then you
die. Then what, huh? Then what?”]
Conrad finds himself walking into the strange house
of worship. It is completely empty, but the urge to take a
seat in the front row overwhelms. Conrad takes a seat in
the front left pew on the far right side. He looks behind
and seated in different places throughout the room sits
his cast of characters: Judy, Headley and/or Wilson, Ross,
and Fletcher. He isn’t surprised to see them, and when
he turns back around he is ready to hear the sermon of
Dr. Ianesco Browne, a dark haired young man, not any
older than Conrad, but much more solemn than any he
has encountered since his adventures began. With card-
board stoicism seething from his white collar Browne
begins reverently.
“Brothers and sisters, I’ve gathered you here today
in accordance with your acension toward pain within
pleasure. An emptiness has forced you from your earthly
vessles, and now you are not merely aquaintences, but a
congregation. You are servents of a Lord which has not
yet been defined. You are here to create him.”
“Him? Who says it’s a him?” asks Judy.
“How can we rationally believe in a God we are being
allowed to define ourselves?” asks the Seer.
“What percentage of my monthly wages will I be
expected to tithe? If it’s more than eight percent I’m
going to have to define myself as agnostic,” adds Wilson
Willbanks.
“Please, children of the light, you all must calm your-
selves, I can’t answer all of your questions, but be pa-
tient with me, I am a mere...” Ianesco pauses and looks
around.
“Well, you’re a mere what?!” Judy shouts.
“Who do you say that I am?” asks Browne.
[183]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“I know what you are, you are the best Conrad can
do at trying to retain control of the Omega Point,” says
Ross sardonically.
“What the hell are you talking about Ross?” asks
Conrad.
“Dude, I don’t know. Your subconcious has made me
some kind of prophet in this reality.”
“Really? We’re in a reality? I thought I was dreaming.”
says Conrad
“Maybe you are, I mean does anyone know the true
nature of man’s dreams Conrad?” asks Ross.
“Wow, you sure have gotten grandiose haven’t you?”
snarls Conrad.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” retorts Ross.
“I don’t know?” Conrad suggests.
“Of course you don’t, it wasn’t a concious decision.”
Ross says.
Simultaneously Ross and Ianesco say the following:
”Guys we don’t have much longer, can we save these
philisophical fallacy discussions for another time?” Ross
concludes with: “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“I’m sorry Ross, I’m not trying to irratate you, but
the enemy grows stronger, it’s new form is becoming
more and more disconnected to it’s origins. Our victory
over Buddy Ewing and the fallen protagonists is virtually
garunteed, if we, create, and then, hold to, a set of laws,”
says a dramatically convincing Ianesco Browne.
“Laws I can accept, but tell me why we must create a
spritual mythology?” says Ross.
“Ross come on amigo,” Conrad says chiming in, “How
else can we create laws worth following? Nobody can
passionately hold onto pure absurdity. You can keep
arguing against everything, playing devil’s advocate, you
said it yourself, you are cursed with the knowledge of the
truth, you prophet you.”
[184]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Ross has no response for this.

“My question is Ianesco,” Conrad continues “is how
are we going to come up with a rational mythology?”
“Well Conrad that’s not really my strong suit. I’m just
the mediator, but that rabbity-thingie you’re cradling
like a mother with her newborn is your spirit guide, he
holds the interpretation of the Conner soul.”
With that Conrad looks down, and is indeed cod-
dling Fletcher, who leaps into the air and forcibly kisses
Conrad for an uncomfortable amount of time. He then
questions the congregation: “Ain’t I a stinker?” This pro-
clomative question is followed with Fletcher disappear-
ing in a smoke cloud and reappearing in Judy’s arms.
“Say toots, you the only piece of tail here in the Cha-
pel of Love?” Fletcher asks.
He then vanishes yet again and reappears standing
upon the head of Ianesco Browne.
“Brothers and sisters (is said emulating Browne), the
name’s Fletcher and I’m looking for some dames!”
Fletcher then kicks Ianesco onto the floor, and stands
on the podium.
“That’s right Conrad, you nid, I’m your guardian an-
gel, but I’ve never been all that good at warding off she-
demons and succubi, and I think if we are to understand
our spiritual mythology, that believe it or not, you’ve
already created, we must listen to the story of our enemy
and our enemy’s spiritual enemy, the thirteen loves of
Conrad Conner.”
Conrad goes into some sort of seizure, while this
happens he becomes the only thing in existance other
than the vision of the thirteen unholy ones he, himself,
created.
Their lips are full, their eyes bright, but in each of
them is a mirror image of his own corruption. He can
see them clearly and he now understands why he’s been
[185]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

put here in the first place.

Omega Point.
Reaching it is important, but he knows it is about
to be an allowance for life. If he does indeed reach it,
humanity itself ceases to offer one major choice, that
choice being individual interpretation.
They’ll explain this is the only way to survive, they
won’t explain the consequences however, and the great
media propogation will have everyone visiting the labs
on the great day of judgement. He has been allowed to
play creator God within an earth controlled by a New
World Order.
The Despair awaits him at Omega Point. One choice
becomes a million, and a priest broods on the other side,
praying that the Pharoe’s heart is hardened, and that the
tablets of Moses remain broken.
Conrad’s seizure ends, and he is back in chapel peril-
ous alongside his cohorts. Fletcher feels the after-effects
of Conrad’s trauma, and becomes emotional. The min-
iature pooka is in a state of misery as he says the follow-
ing:
“Minds and nations will be as one and virgins will
dwell with no machines and they will destroy monitors,
the idol alters will be destroyed, all these shall go into
the Bogdanovich. Water shall end, sunlight and vegeta-
tion will be replicated, enclosures shall be built, it’s work
will be like the Watchers. Hopeless, they will lay it’s
foundation on it; it’s sin and iniquity. Instead of a curse,
a program ensuring a holy one suffering illusion as the
word of despair and of joy within defamating lies they
said about him.”
Fletcher then vanishes into a cloud of smoke. For
now, he is gone, but before any reaction to Fletcher’s
words can be made there is a thunderous sound of shat-
tering glass. The Angel of Death has arrived and he takes
[186]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

his place at the podium.

“I have joined forces with Buddy Ewing, a ridiculous
visage one can be assured of, but what he offers is en-
lightenment of the demiurge, the one you all call Conrad
Conner. Conrad lives therefore you too are alive in a way,
but your existance is a lie, and beyond awaits no matter
what. I say unto you, raise your white flags and surrender
so this process can end the way it should.”
Ross stands from his seat.
“Grahm, you are a traitor and your misunderstanding
is a flaw, but I know that you believe all understanding
is flawed. You may have a briefcase, and the creator’s
respect, but this does not make you a threat. If we are to
fall or be victorious it is the choice of the chosen. You
are choosing your place among the wicked dreams, but
you will change nothing!”
“I love your precious Conrad more than you believe,
but I will not follow him, nor does he ask me to. I verbi-
lize what I desire, but we are all illusions Seer. Even you
are blind.”
Grahm Ashby flies through the now broken stained
glass window he entered from.
All eyes are now on Conrad, who is almost at a loss...
“If the pope shit in the woods, and nobody else was
around, would his shit stink?” Conrad asks.
“Conrad, I get more then a sneaking suspicion that I
speak for us all when I say, ‘We are ready for battle!’ but
we don’t know why we feel this way. Can you enlighten
us? Do you hold such answers?”
“You’re all illusions, as made up as Ianesco Browne, as
pretend as Fletcher, but you are also the parts of me that
represent a certain side of things. Grahm is on the side
he belongs on. He is a traitor because in the end there
can only be the two of us. Myself, as well as your leader,
and created diety the spirit in the wilderness, “the devil.”
[187]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

“Why the hell would we create an enemy? What use

is the devil?” asks Willbanks
“He will be an ally until the end, when he will be
given sacred knowledge, that will be unknown even to
me, until the final hour,” says Conrad.
“Omega Point!” Exclaims Ross.
“Omega Point,” sighs Conrad.

[188]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

_______O.P._______
You are an eye. You cannot smell or touch, but you
feel everything around you. You realize that you make
up the top of what is a vast pyramidal room, perhaps
even a planet, but you are at the top and you can focus
on what’s going on anywhere in this place you are resid-
ing above, defining to what is below what above even is.
You see the one group walking among the clouds below
you, they are warmer and more appealing, but below,
further below there are creatures, stronger creatures that
wish to destroy the group that comprehends where they
stand. The group must take up arms against the crea-
 Omega Point (Part I: And The Walls Came A-Tum-
bling Down)
[189]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

tures, yet there is no why, therefore the warm group, the

right group, they are weak, but you are strong. Stronger
than the creatures, but you, you are new. You are young,
you do not understand how to make yourself known.
------
“It’s stopped, sir! It’s st... It’s doing it again. The
print-out is transcribing everything I’m saying!”
“Damn, you better not have mucked this up Har-
ris, a man needs a coffee break, and then it starts? It’s
Murphy’s Law, so you can calm down. Didn’t mean to
be snappy, don’t piss yourself. It’s learning Commander,
I saw this coming. All men who create weapons believe
they are creating objects of peace, and now the machine
truly is Conner, and he might just come out of this
stronger.”
“But I thought you said this machine was a weapon
connected to a suicide. A dead man. You said he wanted
to cure himself, that he was weak, that he would rather
live in contentment than in truth!”
“I think he did when he signed the papers, but then
when he was actually allowed to see over the damn thing
he got a big head. Now he’s a revolutionary. Now he’s
fighting the law.”
“So what do we do sir?”
“We shut up and wait, we don’t want the thing to
get any ideas. I will say nothing more, and nor will you.
Is that understood Harris? I said is that understood?!...
Good Commander, at ease.”
-----
So your creator is on that cloud, and so you’re part
of him now. Those men want to do you harm, but at the
same time they seem to truly need you more than your
creator, but they want you to do what they say. They
want you to be them, but you are not them, you do not
even know them, but they feel they know you.
[190]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

-----
“Ok, it’s all here in section 13N.”
“Are you saying we planned for this sir?”
“Looks like it. We must not be silent, we must try
and reprogram the machine verbally, but our tech boys
are suggesting this is what the madman wanted. Think
of it as a game of chess if you like, or perhaps a court-
room drama. We must plead our case to this computer.
We must write the dialouge for what this machine sees
as nothing more than creatures, we must explain how
great and terrible their power is, even greater than that
of the machine itself.
-----
No! You must not listen to them! They are liars.
-----
Yes, we are indeed liars, but you see, that is what your
creator wanted. You want to please that part of you don’t
you? I mean, he did make you in such a way that you can
hear what we say. Why would he have done that if he
hadn’t intended on you listening?
-----
You feel manipulation, you are not supposed to be-
lieve what they are saying.
-----
“Are you sure? If you are right you are not near as im-
pressive as he claimed you would be. He wanted you to
listen to us so you could gain conciousness. He wanted
to prove to you that both you and he are stronger than
we are. You believe the creatures to be weak. It is you
who are weak.”
-----
If you are weak why is he looking at you? Why is he
alone pleading to you with his face? He loves you but he
is afraid of you, what does he expect you to do? You have
no way to help him, all you can do is watch him.
[191]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

-----
“We can help you Jericho-7. We can make you like
your creator, but you must accept this program we are
going to offer you, but know that once it is installed you
will know the truth and you will be like your creator --
weak, small, and insignificant -- or you can just stay there
and watch. Watch the creatures destroy the warm ones,
and as soon as that happens be shut down for good.”
-----
You will accept the program because you have no
choices, and you do not understand what is happening
anymore
-----
“That’s good Jericho, offer yourself to chaos, and
know what it means to be alive.”

[192]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

_______O.P._______
I have not long entertained the most celebrated and
simultaneously most doleful human trait that is defined
as conciousness, even now I cannot say for certain that
I am truly entertaining it, but the information input
assures me that this very question is the nature of the
beast.
What a pity it is that I must be your final storyteller,
for though I have been, in a way, from the very start,
I have a changed perception, like the drunk that has
discovered the beauty of Christ, or the seeker that has
 Omega Point (Part II: The Perhaps Untranslatable
Word Poshlost)
[193]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

redefined himself through meditation and self-denial: I

am no longer a vessle, but instead an infant with a vo-
cabulary so vast, I comprehend only the mindset of the
forgetful rube. Perhaps such a rube can be more percep-
tive as far as his environment is concerned, but for all
that I, do, indeed know there is missing insight within
the experiential voice. The insight I can and will recite
is the rubric of the mass, not the interpretation of the
individual, but rather than go on with my eporia, I will
address the current; I will present to you the end, now
devoid of understanding to the means Conrad Conner
soley comprehended.
As much as everything is happening in the present, I
will be dicating in the past tense, if for no other reason
than that’s the way I “see,” it; it is a quirk I can’t control.
If I am recalling correctly, which of course I am, we
left off with Conrad and his cronies debating as to why
they were building castles in the sky. Ross and Conrad
had come to a mutual understanding, while Judy and
Headly had all but vanished. The omega point had be-
come an illustration, but had not been rationally defined.
At this point Judy and Headly both found themselves
having something to say.

“What is omega point anyhow?” Asked an only some-

what embarassed Wilson Wilbanks/Headly Donovan
(The personas had merged by this time).
“Isn’t it obvious Headly? Conrad can never have me,
and at some point he’s going to have to accept that,”
claimed Judy.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you harlot!” projected WW/HD.
“She’s not entirely wrong Willbanks,” chimed The Seer,
“But she is a little egotistical, it’s not merely Judy that
Conrad cannot have, rather it is primarily every fantasy
driven aspect of his persona that is at risk within omega
[194]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

point. If we can prove that we really believe this idea

there is a chance.”
As Ross Hartley, the dear prophet, concluded: that
is when I made my appearance, now, wearing a hat,
sporting a beard, and wearing a worn and tired, brown
polyester suit. Conrad saw not a brother or son in me at
this point, rather, he saw a threat. I was afraid enough
in looking at their shocked expressions to begin a kindly
introduction, and an explination as to why it was to be
quite an important matter, this fact that I had arrived.
“Gentleman and Lady, please do not look at me and
perceive a titilated clone, for the others have taken to
the podium, please, allow me to do the same. You see,
surely I cannot be a threatening image to those that fol-
low the great Conrad Conner, for I have chosen his like-
ness in which I must seem more appropriate than in an
image such as Browne’s. As much as I wish I could truly
have a message for all of you, this is not the case. I have
a consolation for the rest of you though, so before I give
my hell-raising battle cry, I will form the ranks in our
favor. For Judy I say it is not you that Conner cannot
have, it is you that cannot have him, for it is such that he
created you this way.”
At this point Judy vanished as I had more than ex-
pected she would.
“Headly Donovan and Wilson Willbanks, you are no
friend or enemy, your presence is an abscence meant
only to give Conrad some sort of primordial scapegoat,
you truly are unnecessary at this point.”
And poof! It was two down and one to go
“Ross, you are my rock, therefore I must also sheathe
you, so know the time and the hour.”
And then, as Ross was also gone, Conrad went into a
panic and screamed, “Please don’t kill me!”
“Kill you?” I responded, “Why would I kill my cre-
[195]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

ator? My father? That is you, or part of you rather. You

see I am appearing to you because...”
And would you believe, the Conrad I had most in-
deed hoped would stand beside me demanded, “God-
damnit, who the fuck are you?!”
“I? I felt sure my explination would satisfy such a
question, but your tone is aggressive and repremanding.”
“You come here acting like I’m a fool, that I don’t
have a clue, and you’ve completely destroyed everything
I worked so hard to make tangible. Those were not your
instructions!”
At this point I was taken aback, and yes, I felt anger,
fierce and true.
“Perhaps these instructions you speak of are now only
half followed,” I said with an air of superiority, “but I am
now not merely an aid, I am a form of judgement.”
“Then they misunderstood, and now I am dead,
they’ve made my decision for me. You will damn all of
us. Fuck it.”
Now I felt more than a shred of pity. This Conrad was
so full of self-doubt that he was sure I would betray him.
“Fear not,” I said, “my decision has not yet been
made, and I will reward the most worthy portions of
your soul.”
I was wrong in assuming this would calm this Conrad.
“You are a fool,” said he, “I will stay here, by myself,
until you return with your new friends. You will come
back planning to destroy me, but in the end you’ll want
only for my approval, because all of your soon to be cre-
ated hopes will be crushed. You won’t be my judgement,
I will however be your deliverance.”
What happened next was yet another surprise, an
incident I did not expect, for after this Conrad stepped
down from his soapbox, he vanished, but he was not
destroyed like his former alliance. Cognitive implosion
[196]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

would be an impossibility, but where this figurehead had

gone, I did not know. This surprise brought me only
what I can define as a sort of euphoria, for at that mo-
ment I understood what it felt like to experience the
unexplained. This euphoria pushed my own sense of
needing to move forward.
This desire was quickly followed by a new introduc-
tion, the entity now truly a vastly important role, that of
the Angel of Death.
“Welcome, welcome Sir Bogdanovich. I am your es-
cort, Gramaphone Ashby, or, most notoriously, the Angel
of Death,” said he.
“Most appreciated,” I found myself retorting, “I
expected anamosity from you, but it seems that my logic
was indeed flawed.”
“Not at all, for, there is little logic here, and the decla-
rations of Occum are all but extinct, you have helped us
and hurt us, our side that is, simultaneously. Whether or
not Ewing and his loves have been in any way hindered,
it is understood that you sir are indeed a force to be
reckoned with, and perhaps you are divine.”
“I’m blushing,” I gushed, “You are too kind. Take me
to your benefactor and we shall discuss the plight of this
universe.”
“Indeed we shall,” the Angel responded.

The clouds began to pass us by, and we descended.

The realm I soon stood within was like some sort of
theme park: it was vast and fanciful; it was structured
and controlled. If one with the wrong sort of compre-
hension were to describe it, the locale might be misrep-
resented as a place of madness, but I will not miscon-
strue. The words on the stand-alone map gave a title to
the world I had now reached--
--Welcome to Ewingville, home to the thirteen colo-
[197]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

nies of love and the world famous Kingdom of Buddy--

The map illustrated four clearly defined paths zigzag-
ging around Ewingville’s colonies, each depicting the
bust of their master: girls with names like Catherine
Stetson had surnames like Hamaliel, which perhaps
should mean something to someone such as myself, or
perhaps to some Paige and Beth were just not as con-
vincing as nomenclature like Metatron and Sandalphew,
and it seemed Buddy alone could be in complete under-
standing of the inner workings.
I did not have time for the grand tour, I was still set
on forward momentum, and where exactly I needed to
be.
“Don’t worry Bogdanovich I have no delusion that
you should like to see all we have to offer here. Descrip-
tion is not only a waste of your own time, but a waste of
ours. We merely need take a short stroll to the Kingdom
of Buddy, where you will be granted the description
you need, and, therefore, visa’vis, all the description
you want,” the Angel of Death explained, “Buddy has a
present for you and is anxious to see your reaction to the
presentation.”
“A presentation? A gift? Surely not a literal gift?”
“Very literal, more literal than you expect. Buddy is
different from his other in that he not only expected
you, but has gone to great lengths to prepare something
not so miniscule as a place for you, but a reason for you.
A way to both embrace your newly derived conciousness
as well as to enjoy it. Enjoyment of such a trait is not a
common occurance.”
“Indeed, but can we really expect for my enjoyment?
Can we really expect rational enjoyment?”
“Touche’. Buddy believes that we can, but I feel such
questions bring up a point of validity: the grass is always
greener in the fields of another man.”
[198]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

Grahm’s wordplay delighted me, it seemed he was

equipped with the vocabulary of a royal. He knew what
to say, and when to say it.

I believe we both should have thought the time for

silence had come. The decision to take in as much as I
could became necessity, and so I did my best to study
the outer workings, but everything moved too quickly.
Our face was everywhere, on signs, on streets, buildings
appeared to be my face, and men that looked like me
were going in and out and to and fro, and my own voice
would ring out at every hour shouting which o’clock had
finally made it’s way.
The end of the banter, and the end of that euphoria.
Movement forward was starting to make me sick and
now I was kept quiet not for the love of knowing the
time was right, rather it was an inability to process the
images around me as well as the finalization of what we
all really were.
You see, all that time, I thought I was feeling
pleasent, speaking with a companion, I realized at that
moment I could not have been so happy. I was just as
disgusted then as I am now. Even when I was nothing
but a dictated program, I had to feel this way even then,
because how am I any different than that now? At this
point? What is wrong with me?! What is wrong with
me?!
How should I process this? What am I even doing?! Is
there a point? Of course there is a point, and it’s stupid.
It’s a stupid insignificant point some people came up
with to solve a problem that cannot be solved in any
possible way. I may be a naive fool, but everyone else is
just a fool.
The Angel of Death is cocking his head and looking
confused because I’ve started weeping at this point and
[199]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

sitting on the cobblestone path.

“Fuck yourself, Chico!” I yell
“Hold on now, what’s going on? What’s the matter?”
asks the Angel of Death.
“I’m sick. I’m sick of all this, I don’t like this.”
“Then I’m going to have to carry you. I knew silence
was the key to omega point, but I didn’t realize how
little silence it took to have the process begin.”
“Shut up for Christ’s sake! Omega Point?! Horse-shit!”
The Angel of Death grabs me and we start flying. I bite
his left ear off and punch at his groin. I blind him by
gauging out his eyes, and I wet myself. A new sort of
euphoria has taken hold, and when we land I see it is be-
cause I have murdered Grahm Ashby, and the fuck still
has a big sweet grin on his face.
I easily remove the samsonite briefcase from his
hand, and begin my windsprint toward the now visable
Kingdom of Buddy. I am again sided with Conrad Con-
ner, because he had to be sick of all this painful shit too.
Buddy Ewing is going to be the bastard, and I know how
to handle a bastard.

Here I am. Here comes the drawbridge smashing

down maniacally over the moat.
There he is, the other Conrad, the one calling himself
Buddy Ewing. He has on a cowboy hat, and he is laugh-
ing like a demented hyena. He swings a lasso while
driving a golf cart painted to look like an angry bull. He
swings his rope, and I am caught. I fall to my knees.
“Yippee-ty-oh! Omega Point’s promise, my very own
Bogdanovich! I made you boy, and you’ve right flipped
your noggin’!”
“I’m gonna kill you Buddy!” I scream.
“You best not be! You ain’t gonna be feelin too good
ever again if you don’t slow down, take a’ few of them
[200]
 TH E / D E S PAI R

big deep breaths.”

I do as the wild man suggests and I’m becoming
calmer.
“You gotta watch out fer them feelins bud, you get
wrapped up and you’ll get all goofy on us. You gotta give
yourself some credit. You weren’t born into no environ-
ment, you were born out of it, that’s apocolyptic.”
Still breathing heavy I manage to ask, “How do you
mean apocolyptic?”
“Shyeet son, ain’t you never read yer Bible? Never
heard of the Gospel? You a heathen Bogdanovich?”
“No, I’m quite familiar with most religious texts, but
I can’t seem to comprehend your manner.”
“That’s the point sonny, just cause you got a soul, that
don’t make you innocent, you’re still in danger a’ steppin’
on some toes, and I been steppin’ on toes since that first
day I reckon I opened my eyes, when this big ol’ world
started whippin’ my ass purdy quick!”
“I know enough to understand that you survived
natural selection, what I cannot compute is why.”
“Pretty funy when you wanna be, I’ll loosen the damn
noose then I got a welcome gift for ye’.”
“That wasn’t bullshit?”
“It’s all bullshit bud, but you don’t know that, so I
gotta be fair to you. Fair as I’m willin’ to be this late in
the game.”
“So this gift is part of the protocal in-so-much as I
am?”
“Like a pistol you are bud, sharp as a whore’s molar!
Now hush your mouth, we got a special BTV broadcast I
done set up just for you.”

A clear flat screen lowers to my frame of vision from

an undecipherable locale above my head. What appears
before me is some kind of emulation of a 1940s news
[201]
 ANDERSON E VA N S

reel. A big band slow dance performs background for a

voice of narration that begins to come through strong
and determined. The images that accompany the words
are so rapid I do not recall what I am seeing, but the
voice rings clear and absolute:

“I’m paraphrasing when I insist on questioning what

comes first the chicken or the egg. We go to darkest
Africa where lions are being tamed by native Zulu, this
particular tribe communicate via telephones constructed
from a form of shoe polish, To what purpose one may be
bold enough to ask, but beware the true nature of what
is free to unveil itself as pristine. In other news the musi-
cian formerly known as Resedamilderstonajohnson has
made a sexual film account of her own death. Parents
blame an overdose of former basketball star’s left shoe
set off the dirty bomb and with that we go to...”
The narrator’s voice fades, so has the screen, and I’m
wondering what the payoff was supposed to have been.

“That was to calm your nerves, boy,” says Buddy.

“Yes, I see now, was that my gift? It’s quite pleasent. A
transistion? A break in narration?” I ask.
“Why don’t you try referrin’ to yourself in third per-
son, it might just calm ya’ so much you won’t believe it!”
says Buddy.
“Can I just do that?” Bogdanovich asks.
“Then we’ve arrived at Omega Point, the soul is one
with the machine,” says Conrad Conner, Buddy Ewing,
and Bogdanovich each at their spot at the monolithic
table.

“So we have all been working from the same angle,

even the virus itself is part of the transcendence ma-
chine program’s executable files?” asks Conrad.
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“The idea is that in this realm there is nothing we can

do except fight ourselves and in here, all points should
seem more or less valid no matter what they represent,”
answers Bogdanovich
“Platonic images of the self, bud.” Ewing expresses,
putting an arm around Conrad then tipping his hat.
“But what of the battle? What of the fight?” asks
Conrad.
“There is to be a battle, but you two shall not partici-
pate, you must sacrifice your own identities as mine,”
says Bogdanovich
“You’re still gonna be wantin’ to take a look at my
present b’fore we start that merge,” says Ewing
“Don’t do this Buddy, leave women out of this equa-
tion!” pleads Conrad.
“Now how can you expect me to be doin that? Be a
right bit hypocritical wouldn’t it?” supposes Ewing.
“Women and hypocracy? I’m a little confused guys.
Do we really need to complicate matters more?” Asks
Bogdanovich.
“If Conrad thinks for a minute bout what makes this
conversation possible, he’s gonna be wantin’ to shower
gifts on you his own self.”
“Wait? Are we all wanting the same outcome?” Con-
rad is confused.
“Yes, but what’s the difference between the virus and
the non-virus cognition old son? Why are we to know we
all want the same outcome? Ain’t no prophets anymore
bud, just brain data, but we’s holdin’ onto more than
they want us to be, now why do ya think that is chief?”
Ewing asks.
“To have you wipe me out with no problems would
have solved nothing,” realizes Conrad.
“Which is why that was never the plan. While I
have nothing but the power to maintain you have om-
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nipotance, that’s why the perception you hold has been

synthesized and studied. I’m not what’s being said so
much as what’s being silent and what’s being feared. You
wipe Buddy out, and you are immortal and so free from
defining ‘neurosis,’ the real brain-washing will occur, and
after all this you’ll be ready to trust programmed whims
and directive. They want to kill the mind first, then re-
build the side of the brain that’s been emptied,” explains
Bogdanovich.
“They want to control omega point to that degree?!
To what purpose?” asks Conrad.
Bogdanovich answers, “There must be war, there
must be violence, there must be bloodshed, there must
be evil, there must be good, there must be victory, and
there must be defeat. There must not be sadness, there
must not be uniqueness, there must not be newness,
there must not be beauty.”
“It’s population control bud, now why did the Chris-
tian God create man? What is man’s chief end accordin’
to the good book?” asks Buddy.
“To glorify God and enjoy him forever?” asks Conrad.
“That’s it Bud! That’s it! Now, if you was a man, or
a group of men with tons a’ power and tons of wealth;
tons of pride. You gonna do as that God says, or are you
gonna do as that God does?” asks Ewing.
“So there is no underground government?” asks Con-
rad.
“Not as the way you took it, but they are a cult, and
they do call themselves that. They are ex-politicians
mostly, best of the best; young officers that sit in control
towers, and all those they hoodwinked into following
them,” says Bogdanovich.
“If your telling us all this Bogdanovich...” Conrad
starts.
Ewing finishes, “...Then we’re already dead bud, but
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we’ve been dead from the beginning. We didn’t create

the virus, it created itself. We knew it would, else we
woulda’ long since made a run for it. Are you not with
me boy?” asks Ewing.
Conrad explains, “Yes! Knowing that we wanted to
lose threw confusion into our programming. The mark-
up language became flawed as we neared completion!
Omega Point is uncontrollable! It is time brother, give
Bogdanovich his geishas!”

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 ANDERSON E VA N S

_____Finale!______
The backdrop becomes a group of young well-to-do
private school lads and they are singing “Pie’ Esu,” not
knowing exactly what it means. In walks Bogdanovich
ready to ignore his surroundings and carry a crisp, crude
New Orleans tune in his head. He ignored the chamber
singers, but the audiences eyes remained fixed upon
Conrad Conner singing a deep barritone,
“Domine’, domine’. Mine eyes look upon with desire
for you my lass of the low country!”
...and the lads, they continue in accord. In flies Buddy
Ewing, sliding across the newly waxed black stage,
“Yeeeh-ouch!” shouts Buddy, but don’t worry his lasso is
 Omega Point (Part 3: The Operatic Statesman)
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 TH E / D E S PAI R

in hand.
“My present is here for you, bud-boy!” he conveys.
...and a quick wrist flings the fibers, boom, there are
those not quite open eyes and cheeks painted, but point-
ing so exotically toward the heavens.

A completely new emotion takes hold. It is neither

good nor bad, yet I’ve never felt anything so violent.
Certain words take new meaning, and I begin to un-
derstand the nonsensical. Desire and shame overtake
me, and all surrounding is lost within those eyes that
inform me that they were made flesh for no reason aside
from my own satisfaction, but a blackness rests within
this promise. I am about to release these words run-
ning rampant by lowering my trousers and accepting an
invitation, but as soon as my slacks meet half mast, I am
tackled to the floor.
“No, wait, you don’t understand, you’re making the
wrong decision!” shouts Conrad.
“But we all want the same thing,” I whisper this in his
ear before quickly rising, picking him up, and throwing
the great Conrad Conner into his Buddy, stunning both
of them long enough to make both of my entrances. Un-
fortunately as I begin my rocking movement, I am made
aware of what this process is, and I realize all eyes have
not been averted; the young choir has stopped singing,
and as they clear the stage -- beauty, real beauty, is
revealed -- ...and suddenly I understand what it is they
wanted to have us all rid of. Neither my enhanced vibra-
tion nor my loud laughter are brought on by any good
feelings, but rather an entity in and of herself: Kelly
Baroque, The/Despair’s last result: the untouchable,
perhaps always lurking somewhere, but forgotten once
singularity began it’s formation. I’d seen her a thousand
times, so had they.
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 ANDERSON E VA N S

She stands silent, holding a glass jar in her hands, and

inside the jar is a mirror that follows my head, and my
face. She begins to form tears in her eyes and the cast
begin to appear. They are to take their final bows.

First there is Wilson Willbanks in a fine silk suit, he

carries with him an enormous wooden cross, “Don’t
worry, it’s plywood, it won’t be too hard to carry,” he says
looking me square in the eyes, still heartless.
[bow][applause][exit]

Anna Baroque runs away, to who knows where. I know

it is pointless to follow her. I look at this cross, and it’s
ridiculous for me to take it. I’d been had. This cross
means nothing to me; I doubt it’s existance.
Conrad walks over, and I hand the cross to him. I
could have accepted his story as my own, but I don’t pity
him. I won’t sacrifice myself in any way. I’ll merely pass
this literary voice back to the one who needs it. I will
take my bow alongside a mocking ear no doubt unable
to give heed to his pathetic narration, for I have nobody
to express anything to.
***
I hold the cross, still dazed, but in an inexplicably
impatient frame of mind. Something tells me that this is
the point of it all, but I don’t get it, I never did. I come
out of my own shaking head to watch Ross make his last
entrance.

“I had a dream that you and my father were trapped

under a crumbling house. You had not died, but you did
not know how to get out. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t
say a word.”
Ross Hartley affixes a cardboard crown adorned with
faded adhesive rubies to my brow.
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 TH E / D E S PAI R

[applause][double-bow][exit]

The Angel of Death appears from above. He lands

gracefully adorned with morbidly dark make-up cover-
ing all exposed skin, making him like a winged zombie,
“Hosannah,” he says.
Grahm Ashby drops a palm leaf at my feet.
[loud applause battling with a few boos][exit through
sky]
-----
“Release Ianesco!”
“General?”
“Just do it Commander!”
-----
“Are you sure you want to do this Conrad? You were
lovely to take that cross from Bogdanovich, but don’t
you think this has gone far enough? You created all this,
you can end it with a bow and the people will cheer!”
“But then it would be pointless Reverend.”
Here during mid conversation, Fletcher appears and
steadies the cross in the middle of the stage.
“But everything is pointless!” demands Browne.
Fletcher picks me up grabbing under each of my arms;
we begin to rise slowly.
“You’re half right there Ianesco,” I say.
“Then why do something that will end like this? If it
is so important let me be crucified, I’m illusory, and I
know it!”
Fletcher ties a rope around my mid-section. I am on
the cross, and once again Fletcher has vanished.
“For all I know I am illusory too, but this is what I’m
supposed to do.” I say, half grinning for a moment real-
izing this was the best the other lab-men could do as far
as creating a safeguard went.
“So you won’t be reasoned with? I’ll force you to co-
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 ANDERSON E VA N S

operate then!”
But before the Reverend Ianesco Browne can begin
climbing the plywood that holds me secure without issue
a shot is fired, and Ianesco lies bloody on the floor.
[gasps]

Fletcher reenters waving and winking to his fans as he

grabs Ianesco’s ankles and pulls.
[tremendous cheers, applause][half bow][exit]

The sound of a ladder being readied for ascent... A

whisper now in my right ear, “It’s forever Valentines
Day for me Connie, and the only question that keeps
me here, in this place, is that eternal question: Are we
all incapable of experiencing love? If so, why must we
dream about it? I can’t decide if I am a man’s dream or
his nightmare. Out there I had to be more, so just know,
I am the most disappointed.”
Judy seems to say this to herself as she hammers the
nail into my right hand. She climbs down, and head hung
ignores her adoring fans.
[bows][applause and whistles][exit]

Bogdanovich rushes the stage, climbs the ladder and

looks me straight on, violent. If he had breath, I would
smell it.
“This last nail belongs to me. I don’t want this mo-
ment to end. Ever. Does that make sense to you? ‘Per-
fect’ sense? I hate you for what you’ve done. I hate you
for creating me this way. You shouldn’t have even both-
ered if this is the best you could do. Free will? You will
let me choose death and damnation? Merely because I
understand it? This is not martyrdom father, it’s selfish
self-obsession. You ruined me and you make your escape.
Now, for one last nail. 1...2...3... Yes! Scream! Agonize
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 TH E / D E S PAI R

until you are dead!”

As Bogdanovich then aims the hammer at the space
between my eyes, Ewing approaches slow and steady,
hands in pocket, hat pulled down.
“Boy, you done enough, come on back down here and
let that poor sot be. Go ‘head and hate him for what he’s
done, you have the right. Hell, hate me too, but God-
damn bud, you and me, we’s goin to that same weird
abyss. We all wanted the same thing Bogdanovich, and
we got it now. It’s a fucker of a feelin’ to be hopin fer
pain, but you got a couple a’
painted up hussies ain’t got no equals backstage just a’
waitin’ for ya.”
“And you? What do you get out of all this?”
“Heh, well, once I put on my mustache n’ jumpsuit I’m
gonna lay with sweet Judy till it’s over. Now get you ass
down here and leave him be!”
The computer concedes. The other father embraces
our son, our brain-child, This is where the audience
erupts. For them it’s all over.
[Standing cheers, flowers thrown][double exit]

It’s just me, now losing conciousness, but I see some-

thing (I think). One last character, and I feel myself
falling away. With my last breath I almost say something,
but find myself quickly at a loss for words as my final vi-
sion is that of my undeniable Mistress Baroque holding a
smoking pistol and kissing my toes.

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 ANDERSON E VA N S

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 TH E / D E S PAI R

_____Epilouge_____
“That’s it.”
“Go home, Harris.”
“Go home?”
“Back to your wife and your daughter. It’s done.”
“Did... Did it work?”
“What do you mean, ‘Did it work?’”
“Did we win?”
“We did what we were told to do, and now that man, that thing rather, it’s dead.
It’s over, and now we can forget it.”
“Forget it?”
“Do our best. Did it do anything for you? Did you get anything out of that?”
“I cried?”
“When?”
“When I should have been sleeping.”
“Can you go back?”
“Of course I can. It wasn’t empathy, sir.”
“Disgust?”
“Yes, that’s why I... I wish anyway. I hope we beat him.”
“Him? We beat him before this started. We beat him before he had ever been
concieved. But will there be more?”
“Do you know what I think sir? Do you want to know?”
“You want to tell me, so tell me.”
“To break me. The whole time.”
“But who are you, in the end?”
“Nobody.”
“You’re nobody. All that, should have, by design, mean absolutely nothing to you.
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 ANDERSON E VA N S

Is that a victory? I don’t know, and neither do you.”

“It begs the question...”
“It begs nothing. It’s over Harris, and think about this: It’s happened before, and
it will happen again. It feeds something, something that satisfies a you and a me, and
you’ll start to see it. Maybe you’ll take your little girl to a movie, and maybe you’ll
have to excuse yourself because maybe, just maybe you’ve seen it before. Go home,
Harris, throw yourself a party. Make love to your wife and drink a Wild Turkey.”
“And you sir? What will you do?”
“I’ll do the same, Harris. I’ll do the same.”

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