Theatre of the Gazing Eye, Part Two

"No, no, no, NO! Damn it!" yelled Moptop as he waded through the flooded basement. His guitars, books, and even some of his childhood toys were severely damaged and half-submerged in the dirty water. He picked up some floating scraps of wallpaper and flung them away in disgust.

Still angry and wet, he returned to the theatre and made his way to the main auditorium for the big show. The stage was large and terraced, and he was to be on the third level--quite high up. Dietrich was also there, just on the other side of a column. The audience began to noisily fill the seats below.

Moptop and Dietrich strapped on their guitars and began playing, and were pleased to find the audience very receptive, since Moptop was concerned that his and Dietrich's abrasive ways might have provoked the crowd into hostility.

The show went on, with Moptop and Dietrich downing more and more whiskey as the night progressed. Moptop picked up another guitar, which was black and white, and began playing it until he realized it was not his. He picked up yet another guitar, but it was also the wrong one, this one being an inverted white and black color scheme.

"Where did these come from?" he asked Dietrich.

"Oh, those are ours," said a pair of twin girls just below the stage. But you guys can use them anytime." The pair then giggled, and Moptop took several steps back, rather unnerved.

"The second band hasn't shown up yet!" whispered the theatre's manager from just off-stage. "Can you keep playing?"

Moptop and Dietrich obliged, but they were quickly running out of material and the whiskey was taking hold of their performances more noticeably. Exhausted when the extra set was finally finished, Moptop dropped his instrument and began to stagger away.

"Unbelievable!" exclaimed the manager, who reappeared and blocked Moptop's path. "The third band isn't here, either! You'll have to just keep playing!"

Dietrich recommenced singing--fairly incoherently--and Moptop reclined supine beneath his keyboard, occasionally strumming a chord when he could muster up the energy.

However, he was startled upright when a huge, bald man roared from the audience below.

"They've taken my slot! It's my turn to play! I'll destroy you all!"

While Moptop helplessly watched this monstrous adversary charge toward them, a nearby security guard pulled out a blowgun and, with a mighty puff of air, sent a dart spiraling into the angry man's posterior. The dart unfolded like the petals of a poisonous flower, and, staggering to a halt, the man collapsed to the floor.

The audience cheered.

Theatre of the Gazing Eye, Part One

The shutters of his window flew open, and the sunlight violently pierced through.

"Argh, no!" protested Moptop, shielding himself from the blinding rays. "I want to sleep!"

"Too bad," Cajun Mother declared. "We're going shopping."

The two thus filed into the car, Moptop hating the world and all in it. He'd been up until four the previous morning, so the light of day filled him with nausea. They soon arrived at a small shopping complex, wherein a path adorned with flowered trellises led to the various canopied storefronts. As they walked down the path, a certain angle of a flower shocked Moptop. He'd seen this before, somewhere . . . it was in his dream last night! Somewhat shaken, he continued down the path until he and Cajun Mother entered a sporting goods store.

Moptop halfheartedly looked through a rack of basketball jerseys until he was startled by a figure's sudden appearance behind him. It was Donbran, a man he'd never counted on seeing again.

"You?" Moptop stammered, his voice strained with anger and confusion. Donbran was wearing yellow-rimmed glasses, and, again, Moptop realized he had seen this in a dream.

Cajun Mother calmly but coldly acknowledged Donbran, then she and Moptop quickly left the bespectacled, prodigal son behind.

Later that night, Moptop found himself wandering in a haze into a large, domed theatre. Gentle chants echoed through the halls. The lobby was filled with people, but they somehow seemed fake, and they took no notice of him. Eventually, Moptop entered a kitchen and found a little girl inside, sitting on one of the counters.

"Hello," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting," she replied.

"I've been having strange dreams lately. I'm seeing things before they happen. What do you think of that?" inquired the light-headed Moptop.

"Look," she replied, pointing behind him.

He turned to face a shadowy figure, like a spectral woman residing somewhere between this world and the next.

"You've seen this before, but now you're here," stated the little girl. "You're supposed to be here!"

Moptop knew that he had to fight this ghostlike creature, and several people entered the room to observe. He reached into his coat and pulled out his tiny, Elven pocketknife.

"Don't do that," said a large woman who stormed into the room. Moptop was surprised but pleased that he had an ally. The spectral figure seemed agitated by the arrival of the woman, and soon Moptop realized why. "I have a different approach," she boldly intoned.

The woman angrily began shouting a gnocchi recipe at the top of her lungs, and the spectral woman struggled, as if weighed down by the words. Moptop uncomfortably looked around at the others in the room. The little girl shrugged in confusion.

Finally, the woman finished her marinara diatribe, and the wraith dissipated as mist in the wind.