We are outside in the
hazy orange light, the smoke is thicker than ever before and Mt. Diablo
seems to be growling like a monster in pain. I am in the center of a
circle, everyone is standing around me, looking at me. We are waiting.
I
was removed from my cell this morning. The first thing that happened
was that a clean-shaven Ezekiel slammed the door open and looked into
the steel bucket -- as though he expected something. "That's my pee, are
you thirsty?" I asked him, with the sweetest expression I could muster.
I was trying to cover the tremor in my voice. He looked baffled, maybe
even a little frightened. When I sat on the bed, he raised a sharpened
stick and pointed it at me, saying, "The Prophet commands that you
attend us." Then he lead me outside and here I am.
It's
been at least an hour. My lungs are starting to sting from the smoke.
There were sirens once, distant, and then they cut off. That was weird.
It's been several days since I've heard sirens at all. None of the
Rachels or Ezekiels will look at me. I'm just standing here, getting
tired. Shifting from foot to foot. I want to sit down. I tried after the
first ten minutes and a clean-shaven Ezekiel I've never seen before
came over and stared down at me, saying, "Get up." I did and he told me
that I must stand to await the Prophet's pleasure.
That gave me chills. I get cold easily, but these were different.
I realize now that because none of these people will look at me, I've
been avoiding looking at them. Now I start to study their faces. I'm
counting the people ... turning slowly to my left ... and it looks like
at least a hundred people from where I started to nine o'clock on the
circle. Turning a little faster, it looks like a fairly even number in
each quarter, so I guess maybe four hundred people.
Mother Henrietta said there were easily a thousand people. Where are the other six hundred? Hunting for more survivors in the neighborhoods of San Ramon and Danville? And where is Mother Henrietta? It would be so nice to see her face right now. I'm scanning the
faces again and I realize that there seem to be more bearded Ezekiels,
so I start to count them. Really count them. Ten ... thirty ...
forty-five ...
Wait.
Nice Rachel is standing between two Bearded Ezekiels, and she's
staring right at me. She's mouthing something. ... eh ow? Loo is how?
Who pai gow? I squint a little ...
Oh.
Do it now.
Oh! Oh, shit. She wants me to improvise, to preach. Oh, God. What
do I do now? What would Tad do? What would he say? What is the right
thing to say? Is there anything I should avoid? Will they kill me if I
start talking? Should I wait? Is now the right time? Oh, God. I think
I'm going to puke. The world is a little tilty right now. Someone is
making a noise, a huuuuuuhhhhhhhh noise.
It's me, I'm making that noise. Great. I sound like a crazy lady.
I am on the spot. I am shaking. It's like the time Tad talked me into
auditioning for Bye, Bye Birdie. I was so nervous, and he brought only
one copy of the song. I nearly decked him when he realized. Oh, my God.
Okay. What would he say? What is the Wisdom of Tad? What is he
always telling his students? Key to comedy is incongruity. Does that
help here? Fuck if I know. I'll try it.
"Heyyyyyyyy all you ... bunny -- rabbits? No -- jeez. Hoo ..."
Shit. That was awkward. Nice Rachel is staring at me like I'm vomiting frogs, which is what I feel like doing. So good job, Nice Rachel. You win the prize: fresh frog vomit. Okay ... Um ... what else does Tad say ... when
you want it, know where. No. When something is wanted, it's there that
you want ... shit. No. It's, it's sketch comedy, right? Is Improv the
same thing? I don't know. Does it matter? Probably not. What does he say
... I think it's no whales on dry land in sketch comedy. Okay, give
that a try.
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