Chapter 15: Some Dream Contraption
By Allen Frost
George made room in his doctor’s kit bag for the soldier’s head.
“Don’t close it all the way!” he pleaded, so George let the bag gap open.
“Everything will be fine,” George reassured him. Sam was the quiet one, green with moonlight, staggering along like an oak tree put roots and all onto a moving treadmill.
George led them away from the shore towards a soft glow settled in over the saw grass and sand hill. “Everything will be fine,” George repeated.
By some fortune they found a violet path, tracked up that sand until they got to the top of the rise. They were looking down on other fires, not wreckage but campfires and candle lanterns strung around a big dark shrouding tent and the gloomed dinosaur boned shapes of amusement rides.
“It’s a circus.” George tipped the doctor bag so the soldier could see it.
“Hey!” the soldier brightened. “We’re not far from my house. 412 Maple,” he chirped, “I saw these guys setting up this morning before I left for work.”
Sam had his eye on the animals tied in the tent shadows. He mumbled, “I bet those elephants could pull the car back to the road.”
They followed the path again. Sand slid in front of them in sugary gasps.
Soon the soldier asked, “Do you suppose you could drop me off at home? I’m not sure yet what I’m going to tell my wife…but I think I should be there.”
George nodded down at him, “We’ll get you there. Let’s talk to these circus people first.”
They went towards the nearest burning fire, trampling the last of the beach grass as the ground leveled into shadow. Weird scraps of burning paper took to the air whirled and jerked into nothingness.
Someone saw them arriving and stood up.
George waved his arm that wasn’t holding the soldier steadily. “Hello,” he called and stopped.
Sam stopped walking right next to him. “We had a crash on the beach,” he graveled. “Could you spare a couple elephants?”
After a dead dropped silence, “Hah!” was drilled back at them.
George looked at Sam.
“Sammmmsara!” someone at the fireside yelled.
George and Sam froze in criminal poses.
“Where have you been?” Wervers yelled, “Join us over here, wait til you hear what happened.”
While he spoke George and Sam got closer. They were a little amazed to find Wervers where they were.
Wervers made a raspberry sound, “Our movie’s over. The studio brass showed up and shut it down. They didn’t like the dailies we shot. The balloon bombs and the sinking lightship were a little too realistic for them.” Wervers laughed.
George and Sam walked into the floodlight with the moths.
He smiled an ivory set of teeth, “They took us off the film, boys. It wasn’t going the right way. Guess what? They gave me the choice of two movies to accept instead…The Crybaby Gang Meets The Gong, or Frankenstein’s Hand.”
George and Sam were caught in the amber circle of firelight.
“It’s probably no surprise to you, no way am I going to work with that Crybaby Johnson or his rotten gang ever again.” He made a sour face. “I had no choice but to take the monster movie.” He paused dramatically, “Of course, I thought of you first. You’d be perfect for the monster, Mr. Samsara.”
Sam shrugged. Movies were all the same to him. He’d been every other shade of villain, he didn’t mind being Frankenstein too.
“That’s great!” Wervers explained, “That’s the reason I came here, to get help. That’s Fled Magyar over there. He’s going to do the special effects. He makes puppets and he can do the make-up.” He laughed, “Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to doing this. It’s got a great opening shot. Anyway,” Wervers kept the story going, kept them hypnotized reading from the script, building and building the movie into some dream contraption, reminding them that tomorrow was the start of Frankenstein’s Hand and before they knew it, the sky was rolling over to dawn, tomorrow was today.
George made room in his doctor’s kit bag for the soldier’s head.
“Don’t close it all the way!” he pleaded, so George let the bag gap open.
“Everything will be fine,” George reassured him. Sam was the quiet one, green with moonlight, staggering along like an oak tree put roots and all onto a moving treadmill.
George led them away from the shore towards a soft glow settled in over the saw grass and sand hill. “Everything will be fine,” George repeated.
By some fortune they found a violet path, tracked up that sand until they got to the top of the rise. They were looking down on other fires, not wreckage but campfires and candle lanterns strung around a big dark shrouding tent and the gloomed dinosaur boned shapes of amusement rides.
“It’s a circus.” George tipped the doctor bag so the soldier could see it.
“Hey!” the soldier brightened. “We’re not far from my house. 412 Maple,” he chirped, “I saw these guys setting up this morning before I left for work.”
Sam had his eye on the animals tied in the tent shadows. He mumbled, “I bet those elephants could pull the car back to the road.”
They followed the path again. Sand slid in front of them in sugary gasps.
Soon the soldier asked, “Do you suppose you could drop me off at home? I’m not sure yet what I’m going to tell my wife…but I think I should be there.”
George nodded down at him, “We’ll get you there. Let’s talk to these circus people first.”
They went towards the nearest burning fire, trampling the last of the beach grass as the ground leveled into shadow. Weird scraps of burning paper took to the air whirled and jerked into nothingness.
Someone saw them arriving and stood up.
George waved his arm that wasn’t holding the soldier steadily. “Hello,” he called and stopped.
Sam stopped walking right next to him. “We had a crash on the beach,” he graveled. “Could you spare a couple elephants?”
After a dead dropped silence, “Hah!” was drilled back at them.
George looked at Sam.
“Sammmmsara!” someone at the fireside yelled.
George and Sam froze in criminal poses.
“Where have you been?” Wervers yelled, “Join us over here, wait til you hear what happened.”
While he spoke George and Sam got closer. They were a little amazed to find Wervers where they were.
Wervers made a raspberry sound, “Our movie’s over. The studio brass showed up and shut it down. They didn’t like the dailies we shot. The balloon bombs and the sinking lightship were a little too realistic for them.” Wervers laughed.
George and Sam walked into the floodlight with the moths.
He smiled an ivory set of teeth, “They took us off the film, boys. It wasn’t going the right way. Guess what? They gave me the choice of two movies to accept instead…The Crybaby Gang Meets The Gong, or Frankenstein’s Hand.”
George and Sam were caught in the amber circle of firelight.
“It’s probably no surprise to you, no way am I going to work with that Crybaby Johnson or his rotten gang ever again.” He made a sour face. “I had no choice but to take the monster movie.” He paused dramatically, “Of course, I thought of you first. You’d be perfect for the monster, Mr. Samsara.”
Sam shrugged. Movies were all the same to him. He’d been every other shade of villain, he didn’t mind being Frankenstein too.
“That’s great!” Wervers explained, “That’s the reason I came here, to get help. That’s Fled Magyar over there. He’s going to do the special effects. He makes puppets and he can do the make-up.” He laughed, “Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to doing this. It’s got a great opening shot. Anyway,” Wervers kept the story going, kept them hypnotized reading from the script, building and building the movie into some dream contraption, reminding them that tomorrow was the start of Frankenstein’s Hand and before they knew it, the sky was rolling over to dawn, tomorrow was today.
posted by Miguel at 9:53 AM
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