Hysteron Proteron, Issue 1

Issue One: Page Two

Issue One: Page One

Issue One: The Story

“Assholes,” she mumbles at the ceiling, unable to take her nap. Following her super-heated stare brings you to a water stain spreading vertically and brown across her tiny room. Janine jumps up from the bed, pulling a red t-shirt over her head on the way out her door, her blonde hair poking from its cocoon as she readjusts her panties into a covering position and heads to the kitchen.

“Rita, what did the landlord say? What’s going to happen?” she asks her tall-brunette flatmate.

“He said it was their responsibility because it’s their leaking bathroom.”

“But it’s going to start dripping on me at night! I keep thinking I’ll be lying down in bed and a bathtub will come shooting down on my head!”

“Like a star?” jokes Rita.

“What? Oh Rita, don’t be so weird.”

“I’m not,” replies Rita, getting red in the face. “Fine, you talk to the landlord about it from now on. Everything’s a fucking tragedy to you,” she calls as she legs it out the doorway. Janine opens the refrigerator forcefully in response. Rita is weird, she thinks, but her life has been harder than everyone else’s, so she probably deserves to be weird. She walks, her bare feet slapping on the wooden floor as she goes, down the hall to Rita’s room and knocks on the door.

“Yeah,” calls the brunette. Janine opens the door and looks in at Rita folding clothes to Best of Bowie.

“Man, don't you have any other records?” asks Janine. Rita stares at her somewhat dim and (she thinks) melodramatic friend, wondering why she won’t leave her in peace. But Janine really has no idea she has been running around in her underwear for most of the day which Rita thinks is kind of cute and she ends up smiling at Janine in spite of herself.

“Oh Janine, Janine. Put on some jeans!” says Rita. The blonde curls tumble down and spring back up, framing a blushing face.

“You know you like it,” yells Janine as she runs out the door, “Lesbian.”

“You wish!” comes the reply. The brunette turns to finish folding her clothes, but catches herself in the mirror first and begins to dance to Diamond Dogs. As her gyration reaches its crescendo, she hears an interruption. Once more, someone is knocking at Rita’s door.

“Yeah.”

The door opens a crack and a voice whispers, “I’ll be coming back for you soon.”

Through the cracked window in Rita's room, you can hear church bells ringing insistently. Following the sound leads you to the bell tower of St. Peter's church where Danny the gay monk is pulling the rope: now chime 3, now 4, 5, 6. He smiles in reserved satisfaction at his work. He hears creaking stairs and looks down to see his lover Tom coming up to see him. Soon, some dusty blonde hair is whisked from his eyes by Tom's fingertips as he is tentatively kissed by the rubbish collector.

"It doesn't get better than this," says Danny.

"Oh yes it does," promises Tom.

"Oh I believe that!" Danny exclaims, squeezing Tom's butt cheek and running smiling towards the window. But his joy is fading from his face as the hovering local PopeMobile flashes his mechanical ultra-violet eyes at them. Danny had thought they were safe to meet here. They were so high up in the bell tower, the PM would have no probable cause to search outside of its patrol at house-level. But the lovers are no longer safe, under this spotlight.

"Ah my dear boy, now you will come with me to the gender reassignment wing. You will be happier," buzzes the PM through the window.

"Please don't take me...you know, I can't serve as a monk as a woman," bargains a stricken Danny. He looks to his man, "Tom, what do we do?" Tom is running down the steps and is no longer in the bell tower. Danny is all alone with his accuser-jailer.

"What do I do?" he calls to no one.

"Come on, hop in," says the PM and manoeuvres 90 degrees right, sliding open his plastic side door for Danny.

"What a nice looking girl you will be," assures the machine, referring to the pleasant symmetry of Danny's looks. The monk's face contorts to further disbelief as a scream echoes through the streets. Heading for the origin of the desperate cry, you see that Rita, Janine and the intruder are in a rather strange circumstance.

“Ach, ech, oomph,” grunts Janine as she runs after the ghost, trying to slap at it with a book.

“Janine, stop! It’s okay. I was just surprised at its…see-throughy-ness,” pleads Rita.

“Yes, yes, my transparency can be somewhat shocking,” answers the out-dated figure in the usual condescension of a ghost.

“Excuse me, you, but in all fairness, you did just threaten me!” yells Rita.

“I am quite sorry, I assure you, but I am authorized to haunt you, of course.”

“Who gave you a license for this, and why?! I’ve never even seen you before,” Rita says and walks across her room to pick up the book Janine has dropped, For Whom the Bell Tolls.

“Well, you were indeed once a man, yes?” the ghost asks Rita. Rita drops the book.

“What? I have never been a man!” protests Rita. Janine looks her up and down and says, “Well, the ghost does have a point…you are quite tall.” Rita counters, “I think I would know if I had ever been a man.” The ghost interjects, “Not necessarily-”. But there is something at the window that takes everyone’s attention.

“Hmm, Violet, can I speak to you for a moment,” hums the PM through the window. The girls look at each other and say in unison, “Violet?” They had not realized the ghost was female until now, which confuses them. Violet anticipates this and turns around to explain, “You needn’t be shocked that you didn’t notice I was a woman, because I’m not. Human recognition is very particular and as I am not living and therefore am no longer of your species or able to propagate, you had no reason to recognize a sex in me.”

“That and you’re see-through,” retorts Janine with a smirk.

“But you are obviously a woman,” says Rita, finger pointing at Violet’s feminine hair and dress.

“There’s nothing obvious about being a woman, let me assure you,” says Violet.

“Let’s leave Arkedes’ Theory of Apparitions for some other time, shall we? I’ve just agnized how rude I’ve been. Greetings to you Ricardo, remember me?” the PopeMobile says to Rita.

“Ag-nized?” asks the blonde.

“Ricard-o?” asks the brunette.

“Yes, I’m sure there’s some stock footage in the databank. Let me see,” responds the floating machine. As the PM turns sideways to open his projector panel, the group hears frantic mumbles and knocks. Wondering what the noises are and being used to finding such things out, Janine nudges closer to the window sill. After unsuccessfully trying to pry the side door open, she hears chuckles buzzing through the PM.

“What’s so funny? And what’s in there?” demands the diminutive blonde.

“I know what it is,” calls a strapping young man from behind her.

It’s Tom!

“The love of my life is in there,” explains Danny’s breathless, fleeing lover, “He didn’t know that I was head of the Trinity II chapter for GO!”

The room gasps collectively. GO! or Gay is Okay! is an ultra-terrorist organization: striking fear into the heart of the common man. Or so the papers say.

“Oh no, not GO!” screams Janine and faints to the floor. As everyone turns to look at her (except for Rita who is used to Janine’s fainting spells and is busy worrying about her own sense of self ), they see, from underneath the girl, a book slide out of its own accord and an apparition begin to rise from the pages.

“Ernest Hemingway,” whispers Violet incredulously. She goes to meet her fellow ghost, hand outstretched for a handshake, but she is interrupted by his words.

“What in the name of the great whore is going on?” he bellows.

The command in his voice evokes a stupor in the party.

“Do not worry, I have called for back-up and we will have you all processed shortly,” the PM’s voice, unmoved, resounds through the room. “Don’t think I didn’t hear your slur on the Virgin Mary. You will be cited for your heresy.”

“There is time,” Hemingway’s ghost replies, “Only today did the movement start.” At this, Tom turns to him in surprise and says, “How did you know?” Suddenly, Janine awakens to face Hemingway’s looming figure; to her just an extra ghost in the room. “Get outta my house,” she screams, her blonde curls shaking. She turns to Tom and says, “You! I’m turning you in!”

An immediate escape is fast becoming necessary. For this obstacle, Tom has brought an explosive harpoon, but as Danny is captured within the PopeMobile vessel, he must conceive a new plan. He has one minute.

1:00
Danny. Ghosts. That fucking, fascist PopeMobile. Shit, Danny!

:55
Why is this so complicated? Who are these people? Am I being tricked? An elaborate ruse? No, it’s messy. Just some lash-up. A contrivance as useless as a Japanese puzzle toy.

:45
I know! I’ll take the screaming-pointing girl hostage. The PopeMobile has to protect a human life above all else. Surely.

:40
Grab her. GRAB HER. Ah she’s so slippery, I can’t hold on. Ah, what’s he doing? What’s he DOING? He’s pulling me out of the room. Hemingway’s ghost. Of course! He knows about the plan. Is he a spy? A shadow? Oh he’s so forceful. I wonder if that beard feels bristly like a real one. Tom! Stay on track! The Church is going to reassign Danny! Do something!

:25
Down the stairs….. Come on Ernest, I’ve got it! Oh, they’re coming, I can hear them. Run, run, faster, faster. Down the stairs. Handle won’t, get open, dammit. There. Out the door. Okay, shoot the bomb lance up the front of the PM…..Got it! It’s falling!

:00

“Everyone remain where you are!”

Tom and Ernest look up to see four BishopScooters bulking large above them. The scooters are meant to be the more approachable version of the PM, but unless ‘scooter’ means there are over forty orifices through which projectiles can shoot, someone was telling a big fat lie on Naming Day.

The BishopScooters have managed to catch the PopeMobile with suction harpoons about five feet from the ground. The perfect height for Tom’s rescue attempt. He speedily-furtively pushes the manual release button on Danny’s buffed plastic cage and the air swooshes as Danny is revealed. Or what was once Danny.

Surveillance from Three Days Ago:

Janine rushes up the stairs to see her best friend, Ricardo. She has just broken up with her boyfriend, Ninja, and wants some comfort. She wants to hear what a terrible person he is for standing her up and making her break up with him by message. Ricardo commiserates as usual. He doesn’t tell her that her boyfriend has slept with the whole neighborhood, including himself just last night.

And, back at the ranch...

Tom pulls Danny out of his plastic cage, but before he can get him clear of the hovering danger above, Danny screams like a banshee. And screams. And screams some more, without promise of an end. Suddenly, his eyes roll and Tom freezes, a pall descending on his heart. He sees the trap, the cause and effect. Silently he rebukes himself for breaking his own rules. Love is not important enough.

The BishopScooters swarm with efficiency, setting down the PM and scooping up Tom all at once. Their technology howls through the air as they disappear with the head of the Trinity II chapter of GO!

Rita, formerly petrified by her sex-change mystery, comes to her senses and runs down the steps and out the door to Hemingway’s ghost.

“What do we do?” she asks.

“Enter now and serve the supper,” Ernest replies.

“What?!” she wails.

“Listen. Take the wax from thy hairy ears. Listen well, I command,” he booms back. As if under a spell, Rita complies and returns inside, passing Violet on the way. Violet approaches her fellow apparition and clears her throat, “Uch-um, you didn’t have anything better than that to say to her, out of a 471 page book?” asks Violet mischievously.

“Thou hast a lovely body,” he replies.

“I see, you were a quick summon. But by whom I wonder,” she says, smiling at the compliment all the same. In front of them, the abandoned PopeMobile shudders through his death rattle, turns belly up and finally lies silent with Danny, revealing his name: Registration No. 317. The clouds begin to roll and thunder above.

The ghosts whisper to each other as lightning begins to flash in the sky and rain threatens.

“Let’s get to it,” says Violet, rubbing her hands together. Purposefully, they advance on the detritus of the Church's latest mission. They lift the minion and his victim and take them quickly into the house. As was previously pointed out by Rita and Janine, the ghosts are see-through and appear insubstantial. However, their strength comes not from mechanical energy, but the far more powerful Other energy.

Inside, smells of fish fingers waft through the house. Janine comes out of Rita’s room, face swollen with crying and walks to the kitchen in search of the comforting smell. She silently passes the chef and opens a cabinet and takes out two cups.

“Do you want pop or juice,” she asks her brunette housemate. Rita doesn’t answer, still in the state induced by Ernest. Coming up the stairs, the girls can hear the ghosts conferring.

“You see,” says Hemingway’s ghost, “In that there is no problem. But to leave afterward and get out of this country in daylight presents a grave problem.”

Violet and Ernest fill the kitchen doorway.

“Who wants to help us find out what’s going on here?” inquires Violet. Rita and Janine raise their hands in the air.

“Come with us then,” says Violet, and the girls pick up their fish fingers, hot in their hands, and follow the specters to their booty. Downstairs in the living room lies the wreckage and the monk’s body.

“He was so pretty,” laments Janine, gazing at Danny’s limp form. “Wait,” she says, “he moved. I saw him move!”

They all focus on Danny and to their surprise, he does indeed move. His mouth opens and closes, reminiscent of a guppy. He starts to moan and mumble.

“En-h-moo-boo,” he exclaims as his eyes flutter open.

“What is he saying?” asks Rita.

“El Palacio del Miedo,” says Hemingway’s ghost, “The Palace of Fear.”

"Ernest!" barks Violet. "May I have a word, please?" she asks tersely and motions to the side. "Listen, I appreciate your help, but you can't just keep making stuff up! I know you're a book spirit and have certain…limitations, but surely there are rules. You're supposed to spout passages from For Whom, whatever, that are at least germane, if not helpful."

Hemingway's ghost, however partial, says, "It was thee who called me." He stammers, searching for the right words, "You have to take advantage of what time there is."

Violet moves her head closer to his, as if the truth would float to the surface of his mist if she just looked hard enough.

"They know?" she asks. Ernest begins to speak, but Violet has an idea. "Just nod your head for 'yes' and shake for 'no'. Can you do that?" she asks.

He nods.

"Okay, do they know?"

Ernest widens his eyes in helplessness.

"Oh sorry, too vague," Violet catches on. "Does the Church know why I'm really here?"

Ernest shakes his head.

"But they will soon?"

Ernest nods his head.

"And is that what Danny was really saying, the Palace of, of Fear?"

Ernest doesn't move his head.

Rita and Janine, finally alone and free of the mind-grasp of the ghosts, begin whispering to themselves.

“Do you really think I used to be a man?” Rita asks.

“No way Rita. I’m sure I would remember that! We have known each other for, for forever. I think. How long have we known each other for?”

“Too long, I’m sure,” scoffs the brunette, in exasperation that she will have to work out this mystery on her own.

“What do you think about these ghosts, anyways?”

“I really don’t know. It’s weird to see Hemingway though," whispers Rita. "Lends a heretical...almost revolutionary feel to the whole thing,” she finishes, speaking into her chest.

“Rita, are we going to die?”

"Eventually."

Danny’s mumbling gets louder as the two couples are busy whispering to each other.

“Ack! Ack! Ack!” he shouts and points to the machine carcass. The PopeMobile is flashing his red and gold lights. The sound of a fan begins to whir. The ghosts and the girls look to each other just as they are simultaneously zapped with the PM’s emergency Holy Water LASER.

The group is raised into the air, connected by what looks like blue lightning.

“Take these sluts from the rear,” shouts Hemingway’s ghost. The obscenity reactor on the PM turns on, redirecting the last bit of reserve energy away from the LASER.

“Warning!You have received a two star obscenity charge! If you do not purchase a plenary indulgence ticket by 8 PM tonight, you will receive 10 Hell points on your license to live,” informs the Pope’s mechanical henchman. They are his last words. As he sputters to death, again, Rita charges unexpectedly at the machine and begins to kick him. The other girl and the ghosts look reflective for a moment and advance on No. 317 to join Rita. They stand in a circle kicking him until he becomes recognizable only as scrap metal.

“Where is Danny?” asks a worried Janine, turning her head around. Rita glances sideways at her.

“The fornicator ducked back,” says Ernest and points out the garden door.

Now Danny is gone and the databank in the PopeMobile has been destroyed by the suddenly enraged would-be saviors of the Other energy. This is the situation Violet is explaining at the moment.

“All I can think is the machine had a rage-inducing self-destruct mechanism to protect its terminal link to the other PopeMobiles and possibly the PopeHead herself."

“You mean, Number 317 committed suicide??” asks Janine.

“No Janine. It’s a machine-that wasn’t really a man speaking,” replies Rita, incredulous at the absurd silliness of her friend.

“Like in Oz?”

“Erm, no.”

“Hm, well, strictly speaking, Janine is right, Ritardo, uh, Rita, about the suicide,” muses Violet.

“Excuse me?!” shrieks Rita.

“Ha ha, she called you Rit-ar-do!” gurgles Janine. Rita kicks her little friend in the shin.

“Ow, you broke my leg!”

“Rita, I’m sorry, I was thinking about this suicide conflict. If that’s what has happened, we might be able to use it,” says Violet.

“My le-eg!” wails Janine.

There is a knock at the garden door. Through the glass, Danny peers in at them; a tear is rolling down his cheek. He catches the tear with the tip of his tongue and waits to be let inside. The function of the doorknob appears unfathomable. Janine's perma-puffed face looks up from her crying and says, "Let him in this instant."

Danny makes a beeline for Janine, hands outstretched. He reaches her and places his hands on her injured leg, looking deep into her eyes. There is a slight pulse of a glow around the couple and they begin to smile at each other.

"Thank you," says Janine.

Violet looks to Hemingway and points at Danny. “The monk’s been mutated by the Other energy,” she says. “His reassignment must have been interrupted by that GO! guy’s harpoon attack. Straddling the line between Here and There; he must be an open portal! Do you realize what this means?”

“The plug has been drawn and the wine has all run out of the skin,” says Hemingway with his head down in sorrow.

“Let’s do that again. This time with the head, like we practiced before,” says a supercilious Violet. She pauses for effect. “Do you realize what this means?”

Ernest, the book spirit who can only speak the words of For Whom The Bell Tolls, pulls Violet into a passionate embrace.

“I confess a sadness to you, but do not think I lack resolution. Nothing has happened to my resolution,” he says and pushes her out to arms length, and slaps her one good in the face.

Tune in next week for: Who is Violet Really and How Bad is She Gonna Nail Ernest?

Violet rears back and her image shivers with indignation. “Nae! Fit ye deein? Gie’s a dirl around ‘e lung?!” she yells in her indigenous language. She reaches behind her as her clothes transform from a high-collared Victorian dress, to a shepherd’s get up. She pulls a knife from a back pocket and advances quickly to Ernest’s throat.

“How can you kill each other if you’re already dead?” asks Rita, looking with almost amused disbelief at the unfolding scenario. “And what the hades are you saying?”