By Regalo3000
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BLACK HOUSE.
There was just no other stage-play Slow Motion would use to open the very first season of the Buckaroo Banzai Theatrical Dream Machine than Reno Nevada's "The Death and Life of Rawhide."
He's alive! said the child that had been hoping for Rawhide to return to life and had gotten her wish. Then the lights went out. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Then applause filled the small theater. Slow Motion beamed. It was a success.
Now they could move on to things like "Death of a Salesman," "The Crucible," and even strange things written by the likes of Tom Stoppard for example.
Too bad Buckaroo and most of Team Banzai couldn't be there. They had been called off on official business, but, there was Smalleyes in the corner with a digital camera taping the whole thing.
The cast of players took their bows, and soon it was off to the Casa-Negro (Black House) Restaurant and Bar for the celebration.
The inside of the Casa-Negro Restaurant lived up to its name, most everything was painted black. If you had asked H.R. Giger and David Lynch to collaborate on the walls, lighting and furniture, the bizarre interiors the Casa-Negro would be the result. It was stunning although it was self-indulgent, moving and yet somber, and you couldn't take your eyes off the Giger-esque bar which was an open mouth with people being served at individual metal teeth as the bartenders walked out of the throat and onto the tongue.
The cast and crew of "The Death and Life of Rawhide" piled into the bar, along with many of the audience. Slow Motion shouted, "Where are my oreos?" and a pack of waiters rushed to the kitchens to procure the trays of milk and cookies for the slew of theater-goers that had just striding in like an invading army of happiness.
What are they so happy about? asked one Waiter of another.
There is nothing to be happy about, answered the other, who turned and went into the kitchens.
Smalleyes hugged Slow Motion. I love you, man. You're a great director. A great dentist. And an all-around great guy.
Oh, be quiet, said Slow Motion looking around. Have you been drinking?
Yeah, said Smalleyes, since the middle of the second act. Bahhhhh haaaa haaaah!
Stop crying, you're making a scene! You're embarrassing me!
It didn't make any sense, Slow Motion knew Smalleyes was not a drinker.
In the kitchen the Waiter who'd said there was nothing in life to be happy about opened the freezer door. Standing inside were the real Waiters and Waitresses of the Casa-Negro Restaurant. It'll all be over soon, he said. But it didn't sound too promising to the people who were huddled together to keep warm in the ensuing darkness. He had closed the door, turned, and nodded to ten machinegun weilding men ...
Bahhhhhhh! I love you, man! Bahhhhh! I'm going to pretend to pass out!
As Slow Motion helped carried the pretending to be drunk Smalleyes towards the exit the cast and crew's chatter suddenly stopped. I've noticed something, said Smalleyes into Slow Motion's ear.
What? asked Slow Motion.
These are not the real employees of the Casa-Negro.
Damn, said Slow Motion, I'd hoped I was wrong, but, I was just so caught up in the moment I wanted to believe things were safe, I guess I'm mistaken.
The signal has gone out. Everybody knows.
Are you certain they all know what to do?
First time for everything, said Smalleyes. Several are beginning to gather at the exit. They intend to block our way.
We split at the count of three, said Slow Motion. One, two, three.
At that exact moment all hell broke loose. Smalleyes and Slow Motion parted ways, each heading for a black column that held up the overhead balcony area. The cast and crew shoved the audience under the tables, pulled out firearms, tossed the tables on their sides, and opened fire!
The first wave of Waiters was taken out, that is, most of those who were pretending to serve on the ground level. It was then that many more appeared on the balcony above and fired down into the crowd, but, the tables had been upturned and the cast and crew were now firing from beneath them. Bullets riddled the tops of the metal tables.
Shorteyes saw the machinegun-weilding waiter before Slow Motion did and fired upon the man who felt there was nothing to be happy about. But, it left Smalleyes exposed, and although he had saved Slow Motion from death, Smalleyes got several bullets across his thighs!
Smalleyes! yelled Slow Motion, who made a run for the falling teen, firing up into the balcony, killing five Waiters with five bullets exactly, one for each. Slow Motion hoped he'd gotten the guy who had hit Smalleyes!
He reached Smalleyes and pulled him to safety. The teen had almost gone to the Great Beyond to meet the Great Spirit. The overconfidence of the attackers had turned to a lack thereof, and they began to disperse, blowing up the tinted windows of the second floor and climbing out of the building using ropes; their feet hit the street and they ran off into the night.
Later, Slow Motion checked the body of one of the attackers. There was a business card in one of his pockets. "If you have found this card, you have found the body of one of my men. This was just an introduction to the mayhem that is to follow." And the card said nothing else. He recognized the phraseology immediately. As captain of the soccer team way back in college , he gave similar cards to any opposing team captain for demoralizing purposes, but, the losing team had never realized that Slow Motion had also written secret messages on the cards.
Out of curiosity Slow Motion held the card backside up to a candle's flame, yes, words had been written using lemon juice, it was indeed his old college trick. "For Stanford, the love you killed!" said the card.
What is this? thought Slow Motion. I have an enemy. Someone from my past.
He studied the handwriting carefully but he was no expert.
Then he remembered, he remembered the corner, where he initialed his hidden sayings.
The letter "A".
No, it couldn't be!!! No way! No, someone was playing a cruel game. But, she was the only one who knew of his little lemon ink secret, they wrote the cards together. Could she had told someone? It was possible. One option was that Anastasia was still alive and seeking revenge, for whatever insane reason, and she was going to avenge Stanford's death come hell or highwater. The only other option was even more terrible ... that what the old Indian Shaman had told him years ago was finally coming true ...
_______
WHITE HUT.
It had been years since he'd seen the old Indian Shaman, and yet the old man a) didn't look a year older, b) acted as if Slow Motion had simply stepped out to the grocery store and had just returned, and that was ten years ago, and c) told him to chop wood because it was good to have the physical body active during a time of inner tormoil, and besides, I need wood for the fireplace so I won't freeze my ass off in these mountains.
Many Black Feathers was the old Indian's name, and it was Slow Motion's guess as to how old he was. That's the problem with being a Melting Pot Baby, said the old Indian. They talk about Generation X, and Baby Boomers, well, what about people like you and Buckaroo? You're part Indian, part Irish, and part Black. Mostly Indian by the looks of you. But looks can be deceiving. You might be hiding an afro under that scalp.
Why do you joke at a time like this? asked Slow Motion.
Hell, you're the one that's going through the ordeal, not I, said the old man, am I to get on my knees and weep with you? Weeping is for little old ladies who have nothing to live for, never lived for nothing, and nothing is all they have left. Let me see your eyes.
The old man grabbed Slow Motion's head. Harumphed and blew into his eyes with his mouth.
Did you just do something spiritual to me?
Bloody hell, said the old man, why does everything have to be spiritual? I was blowing dust from your face, you moron!
Please, said Slow Motion. Don't treat me this way, I need answers, not tom-foolery.
Oh, so my playing doesn't interest you, eh? said the old man. Get out, get out! Get the hell out of my house! Right now! And don't you ever come back! I will not teach you anymore! And I mean it!
Slow Motion rose and left the old man's old white hut. He stood outside, angry and lost, then decided to go back inside and give the old man a piece of his mind. But, there was no one inside the hut, in fact, it was empty and looked like it hadn't been lived in in years. There was no wood in the fireplace, no fire at all to speak of, and this confused Slow Motion all the more!
He wasn't real, said Slow Motion, he was never a real person, he was a spirit!!! Well, that explains a lot! Wait a minute, that explains nothing! Who was he? Did he ever exist at all in this plain?
It was then that the wind hit him in the face, a cold bitter wind. And then the sounds of warriors riding horses! They're coming! he thought. Hold on to your hat! The angry warriors are coming! They're finally here!
He fell to his knees and held out his hands and looked at the sky! The ancient warriors were riding on horses! They were all around him! He believed his death had come and it was time to go with them! They surrounded him like they surrounded wagon trains in the old Westerns! The horses looked ferocious! Spears and bows and arrows were lifted into the air! Then there was on final scream! It was Slow Motion's. He had finally found the cry of the warrior, it came from deep down in his spirit and flew out of his mouth like ... like ... a big black hawk ... he had found his familiar ... it hovered over him, one big red eye staring at him ...
You must fight the evils of this world, that which you have released from the underworld, they will find you when you are at your most helpless.
_______
When he awoke he was sitting at a bus station, and in his hand was a ticket, a bus ticket leading him straight back to Buckaroo and the Institute. Whatever it was that had happened it was magic, and he might never remember all the details, all he knew was that he was going home, and that a terrible enemy was to be fought that was endangering all of his friends, something HE had awoken that day so long ago, when he wouldn't leave the old pottery alone ...
_______
What are you doing?
Trying to get this pottery open!
I said not to touch it! You fool! It contains an evil that would haunt you for the rest of your life!
I don't believe you! My curiosity!
Do NOT open that clay pot!
I must! I must!
He threw it against the wall, and it shattered into a million pieces. A a mighty wind filled the room and escaped out the window of the old Indian's hut!
Well, now you've gone and done it! Are you hungry? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!
What was that? asked Slow Motion.
Oh, just a very powerful evil entity that will try to kill you every now and then.
Aren't you concerned for me?
Why should I be? It's your damn fault! It's your responsibility from now on! Your problem, not mine! I'm taking a bath, then I intend to run through the mountains naked so that the evil spirit will take pity on me and leave me alone! If you ran around naked for the rest of your life, it might even leave you alone!
I can't do that!
Well, then, it's your funeral.
The incident was not spoken of again until the day he left the old Indian!
It takes over groups of people, you know! Makes them evil! Gives them power! You will meet The Wind again and again. They don't know what drives them! But, they are not entirely innocent either! Beware, it knows your deepest secrets! Goodbye! And good luck!
_______
The bodies of the dead Waiters had proved to be informative, they were all homeless people, the destitute, the kind of people Slow Motion would feed on a cold, hungry night. They came to be known as The Wind in his mind, simply as The Wind, as the old Indian had referred to them. A group of killers that moved with one purpose, to kill Slow Motion and anyone close to him, because ... he was the only one who could ... return the spirits to the prison they came from ... but, the pottery had been shattered ... so, Slow Motion was doomed to spend the rest of his days a haunted man. One never knew when or where they were going to attack.
He thought of the old Indian.
I like the green ones, they taste better than the red ones. To me, Gummyfruits are the best candy ever created. What do you think, Slow Motion? Silent, eh? If you think spiritualism is only mumbo-jumbo and shaking of a rattle you're all wrong, there's magic in mischief as well. That's what I'm going to teach you to be, the ultimate prankster.
Why?
Because we all need a good laugh.
