Plots & Schemes
Featuring stories by Alle C. Hall, Andriana Minou, Jenifer Rowe, and Mark Sadler; performed by Calaine Schafer, Mark Woollett, Michael Petrocelli, and Jessica Gallucci. Hosted by Andrew Lloyd-Jones at KGB Bar on 6th February 2019.
In this city everything is perfect. People are loving and helpful to each other. They all have a job and they’re all perfectly happy with their jobs. Lovers never lie to each other and never fall out of love. The weather is always just right for the season. There is no hunger, poverty, evil, illness, violence, misery. All is perfect in this city. All but one thing; wherever you go, streets, supermarkets, offices, restaurants, beaches, gyms, public toilets, elevators, even inside every single apartment, there are speakers playing songs by Claude Francois, aka Cloclo.
Thomas William James harboured pretensions of godhood. His intent was on dragging the remainder of humanity into a future of his own design, offering nary a backward, sympathetic glance to anyone who failed to keep pace. I would hazard a guess that very few people who locked antlers with him came out on top. It was a trio of Scotsmen; myself, Bill Ellis and David Browman, who sounded-out his Achilles heel and brought the titan crashing down to earth.
I remember the day she was born, in the back bedroom with the windows closed up against the heat. Aunt Hilda, she sent me off to the kitchen table and told me to set there. Ma had been crying out, but then she stopped and it got real quiet. I was watching a fly crawl to my hand so I could smite it, just like the Hand of God they talked about at Sunday school. You had to be real still to catch a fly, and when the baby cried out and made me jump, it flew away. I was peeved for a minute, but I ran to the bedroom door, asking could I come in and see the baby. Aunt Hilda jerked up my arm and hissed, “You need to mind yourself from now on, Missy Jean.”
In Japan, Lena ate a live frog’s freshly skinned legs while the top half of the luckless creature grimaced and bulged its eyes from her plate, pure decoration. She drank a great deal of sake with that meal. In Vietnam, she ate cat. Grilled, chopped, and tossed with sesame seeds and fresh coriander. A dainty dish. Lightly chewy. In Bali, a simple egg, steamed in a hole dug into the side of an active volcano. At the top, Lena made herself peer over the rim, into the pluming smoke. The mountain rumbled as if in a state of continual orgasm.