I'm teaching Principles and Theory of Acting at Solano College. It's the first day, and I'm early. Of course. The room has changed, because with budget cuts they have closed down the library and the rest of the school. Even though there's no money to pay me, I come teach the class out of a sense of duty, and because the college built a rollercoaster to get me here from Livermore.
So now, instead of the original room I used, I'm in a big lecture hall, amphitheater style, and it's very old school. Chalkboards, the kind that move up, down and side-to-side. The seats are all old-school, too: they're wooden. Oh, of course, this is the Philosophy Hall. Everything is wooden here.
The chalkboards are spotless.
Except for a phrase in the center of the lowest, center chalkboard:
Something has happened, something else hasn't happened yet.
When I look at that phrase, it's like I've just had Thanksgiving dinner and I'm on the couch at my grandparents' house and it's cozy and late and people are talking in various places throughout the house and I can hear all their conversations at once.
Only there is no conversation. Just that one line. I feel sleepy when I look at that line. I need to focus elsewhere. I look around the hall, and it's only really lit down here where I am, in front of the chalkboards. There are little lights at the steps, every other row of seats; there are monsters in the back, in the dark. I can see their shapes. They might be nice Muppet monsters, or semi-nice Sendak monsters. Or they might be the nightmare shapes upon which those filtered, kid-friendly monsters are based.
I do believe they are waiting to see what I will do, how the class will go. Then they will know what kind of monsters they are, and act accordingly. I wonder briefly if there has been some kind of monster takeover. Should I pretend to side with them and spy for the resistance? Before I finish that sentence, I know it's true: there has been a takeover and I should spy -- am spying -- for the resistance.
Of course this means I should teach the class just as though there is nothing any different about it or me, just as if there was never an Earthquake, a hole in the ground letting all the monsters out of Hell. I put my vintage German leather satchel on the table next to the podium, then step around in front of the table and address the class:
"Who here wants to be a Movie Star?" I ask.
The nice little old woman at the table next to me spills her coffee and her coffee is red poster paint. She was stirring it with a dildo, which is why it spilled. She is really, really embarrassed. She is scooting her chair toward me, her lips in a moue of embarrassment, but her eyes fixed on my moustache like a crazy lady. I look around the coffee shop and see that there are monsters behind the counter, in silhouette. Something is wrong, I stand and grab napkins from my pocket to offer the old lady, but she is grinning the wicked grin of the elderly pervert as she REALLY ANGRILY stomp-scootches her chair toward me. And holy crap, she's humping the chair. Or, no, something stuck to the chair.
Oh. My. God.
I turn to leave and one of the students in the front row raises her hand.
"Mighty Professor, that scenario is terrifying. But why wouldn't she just get a larger cup?" This girl is kind of hot. And I recognize her voice from somewhere.
"That scenario doesn't have large enough cups," I'm looking at her face as I say this and it's obscured behind her amazing red hair because she is taking notes. Why is it that when she speaks, I'm looking elsewhere?
"Something has happened, something else hasn't happened yet," somebody says from the back of the class.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! It's a surprise! If you say that again we are halfway there and it isn't time for that yet!" I am grinning at them as I say this, but I don't know why I'm saying it. The redhead speaks and I find myself staring at a photograph of a lemon sculpted into the shape of a vulva. The vulva is speaking her words, growing eyes as it does so.
"You're only one third of the way there," she says. I turn to her but she's digging in her packpack for an apple. I know this because her backpack is full of apples. They're spilling out of it. I want to eat her apples.
"The thing about Acting, is: it's not. There is no thing," I tell them.
As one, the Monsters in the back row get up and move down three rows. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The old lady from the coffee shop raises her hand. I point to her.
"Hey big boy, do you want to fluff my pillows?" She says this with the glee reserved for the dangerously mentally ill, the kind of tone that carries with it images of dead birds stuffed into Holly Hobbie Bake Oven just in time for the girls to get home from 4H.
I run from the bedroom, down the hall toward the stairs. I have to get to the front door before Grandma, so that my sisters won't go up to their room. I know what will happen to them if they see the birds. At the landing on the stairs, I hear their keys in the lock. I know I will make it in time, Grandma is stuck in the secret passage where she spills her red poster paint.
Then something moves in the tall yellow windows on the landing, and the glass shatters and her bloody hand reaches in for me and there she is pulling herself through the window, saying, "Kool-Aid Brand Soft Drink Mix has those big fruity flavors kids love. Hugs and kisses guaranteed!"
The window is very thin, it's one of three very thin windows but she is pulling herself through, cutting herself on the glass. Her grip is too strong for an old lady, she must be drinking a lot of Kool-Aid. I try to pull myself away and the doorknob is turning and I pull and pull but can't move, so I push and she falls, sliding down the broken glass. I see it slice into her, great slabs and shards slicing into her flesh, the flesh flopping open like a wallet made of old fish.
I run down the stairs and open the door, but my sisters are not at the door, they are at the far end of our covered porch area and it's like a tunnel with three arches on the right. Grandma is outside, she might still be lurking. It's Halloween and my sisters are all dressed as Holly Hobbie. I start to run toward them and all I can think about is getting them safe, protecting them, getting them inside and barring the door.
There are scary things in the arches, silhouetted figures that look like Monsters, and one of them is holding a cup of red poster paint. Grandma leans forward, spilling her red poster paint, and whispers, "Hugs and kisses guaranteed!"
I turn to yell, to warn my sisters as I'm running and the redhead raises her hand:
"Mighty Professor, these are flight-or-fight scenarios, do you have anything more contemplative?"
The Monsters in the back row get up and move down another three rows. I take an involuntary step back, then turn to look at the chalkboard, trying to cover my fear.
On the chalkboard, beneath the original phrase, is another statement. The chalkboard now reads,
Something has happened, something else hasn't happened yet.
Hugs and kisses guaranteed!
The second statement is written in red poster paint.
The redhead speaks from behind me, "If it could be more contemplative, if you could show us how to contemplate some things that have or have not happened ..."
I recognize her voice.
The Monsters move another three rows and they are in the front row. I could be scared, except I think I understand.
"Something has happened," I say. "Something else hasn't happened yet."
I knock three times on the table next to the podium. I hear a door open. I turn around.
The lecture hall is empty, but daylight shines in from outside. I'm heading up the stairs and I switch off the lights as I pass. They don't change. I stop, flicking all the switches in the panel. Nothing. I glance at my digital wristwatch.
Blurry.
I'm blinking at it when I realize I'm sitting up but awake and
Hmm, very mysterious...
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