Magical Child's For Theories

Now, as you know, the moose is man's best friend next to the pop tart. The moose has all of those special moose powers, everyone knows about it, but no one will talk about it without getting embarrassed. Its like masturbation, you do what you have to do, but no one talks about it, same thing with special moose powers and pop tarts. Thanks to special legislation pop tarts will soon be recognized as an endangered species. Notice a pattern? Special powers, special legislation all coming together, and no one is talking about it? Don't you see, its just there in your face! The moose are saving man from his follies, and protecting the pop tart from our overprotective ways. Why the number of pop tarts killed each year by fools giving them too much heat is staggering. That's why the moose must help them, the moose don't use heat, and don't do that thing that no one talks about unless they are in heat. Is that dangerous to our friend the pop tart you ask? Of course not, another special moose power is that they are not corrupted, unlike some humans, with the desire to try sex with other species, no matter how friendly they seem. Sex with other species is another thing that we don't talk about because it can't cause reproduction, is therefore masturbation, and don't expect a talk about that to be coming soon. The moose, that magical mystery creature, has saved the long fruit planes pop tart herds, which were ordinally hunted to stem there overpopulation. Pop! That one's toast, pop, there goes another into steaming oblivion, we were barbarians to them, but now they will be coming back. But we can't talk about that. Moose.

As the limitless hosts of the Dark Lord Moreegoth swelled around the final city of light, Amarand, last descendant of the Great King of Light, Asmond, rallied his defenders to the battlements while his few mages struggled vainly to overcome the Dark Lord's Barriers and bring forth the prophesied great army of salvation, which is to appear in a great flash of light, bringing before it death and destruction on an unparalleled scale, thereby tipping the balance in favor of good and light. And as the demon riders flew their winged steeds across the sky, scouting for the legions of zombies and orcs who were searching for humans hiding in the forest surrounding the city, while the ogres and goblins set to the task of building great siege engines from the woods with vampires and other minions of the dark protecting them from the few remaining treefolk, whose numbers while small, but were still a force to be reckoned with, there appeared in the East giant gray eagles from the Iron Hills, former home of the time lost dwarfen smiths, unarguably the best smiths of all time, but who were unable to prevail against the Dark Lord's armies, but had weakened him so much that the remaining 3 races, human, elf, and gnomes were able to drive Moreegoth back to the blasted wreckage of his blighted homeland, and thus gave the legions of light time to prepare for the final assault, as the eagles soared in from the East, a rumbling was heard from the West. Suddenly, a pair of F-14's appeared, zooming across the sky over the battlefield, shooting down the demon riders as a wing of B-52's dropped napalm on the dark army, shattering it's ranks, leaving the forces of dark running from the last city of light back to their homeland, which was lit from horizon to horizon by fuel-air bomb created firestorms, which burned the very stone of the Dark Lord's palace, killing him and defeating evil for the rest of the age. The lesson is this: don't mix your fantasy world and army toys, and children will never stop to take a breath.

Wait!

What?

Don't move!

Why not?

Movement requires narration!

Uhm...

You don't understand, I'm hunting the narrator, but if I use any narration, he'll be on to me.

Uh...The narrator?

Yes! That omnipotent bastard who knows everything and is always so smug when he tells stories. I'm hunting him. But if I move, or you move since you are now part of my tale, he'll have to narrate it, and then he'll know we're hunting him.

We?

Yes my loyal sidekick, you and I, hunting down the evil narrator. He has foreboding you know, and if someone doesn't stop him, he'll use it to destroy everything!

If he has foreboding, how are you going to sneak up on him?

I don't know, but we must remain very still and quiet or else we will require narration, and he'll be on to us.

Right, so we're waiting for the narrator to pass by here so we can kill him, do I have it correctly?

Yes, you learn fast faithful sidekick! We will wait until the narrator comes and then we'll kill him and be heroes.

Uh huh, this narrator we're waiting for, his name wouldn't happen to be Godot would it?

No, he's a narrator, he doesn't have a name. Why would you think it was Godot?

Just wondering. Well, its been strange but I'm leaving.

No, you can't leave! If you try and leave there will be narration! You'll ruin my noble quest and the narrator will never come here. If you try and leave I will shoot you with this gun!

That's a fire extinguisher, not a gun.

Well... Then I'll use this!!! Scared of it aren't you!! Huh! That's what I thought, no one wants to face this thing.

Argh! A Barney windup doll! No! Don't pull the string! I'll stay, I'll stay!

Works every time. Now where were we, ah yes, the evil that is the narrator.

Why evil?

Why not evil? Would YOU trust someone who knows all, only tells what he wants to, and is beholden to none? If he is not evil then maybe the government isn't evil, maybe guns really do cause death, no, its impossible, the narrator is evil!

But narrators are created by writers, they do not exist themselves.

That's what They want you to think! There is only one narrator, writers just summon him with their secret pencil dance to do their bidding. But he's to powerful for them, that's why so many of them die early. Like Hemingway, almost all narration, and he killed himself! Just more evidence that the narrator is evil!

I just had a thought you aren't gonna like.

What? Tell me! Being secretive requires narration, we must not give any narration!

Ok, its just this, you are describing all our actions so that the narrator won't do it, and thus be alerted to our presence, right?

Right. If I didn't describe all our actions the narrator would, and then he would be alerted to our presence.

But, the person who describes all actions IS the narrator. You are the narrator, and if you are right about them being evil, you must destroy yourself.

But I'm not a narrator! Unless...yes! They must have possessed me so that I would be unable to hunt them. Those sneaky bastards! Quick perform an exorcism before it's too late!

Uhm, how?

Use the holy water in your right pocket. Dump it on me.

I don't have any holy water.

If I'm the narrator, and I say you have holy water in your pocket, you have holy water! Good, all over, really throw that stuff on me. Right, so am I still the narrator?

Well, since you just narrated me throwing holy water on you, I'd have to say yes.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! I must dispose of myself then, and hope to destroy the narrator with me.

I don't think it works that way.

Well I must die, to find out. Farewell faithful sidekick, leave now before you must witness the horrors of what I must do.

And then I said, "Ok, bye" and left the fool to flog himself to death with the Barney doll. So, there you have it children, the true story of a narrator outwitting a fool. Now run along, its past your bedtime.

A room, no doors, no windows, walls of unbroken white, soft flourescent light fills the room despite the absence of lamps. Appear the cast of pawns and players, appear Amarand still in battle garb.

Amarand: "What?"

Appear the hunter, still clutching the Demonic Barny Doll of Death, bloody nose from brain hemorrhaging.

Hunter: "Leave me foul narrator!"

Amarand draws his sword: "Who are you? Speak fool are you league with The Dark One? By the light you shall find I will not fall easy."

Hunter: "Help me, I am possessed by the most foul evil, that of the narrator!"

Amarand: "The who?"

Hunter: "The narrator, that foul being who dictate's the world! The one who tells the stories! Evil omnipotent beings!"

Amarand begins to scoff and lower his sword: "Too crazy too be a servant of The Dark Lord."

They notice their surroundings for the first time. They stop all action and just look around. This continues for 10 minutes. The audience gets restless. Appear a moose with a fez on its head.

Amarand: "A Moose!"

Hunter: "A fez!"

Moose:

They stop staring at the walls and watch the moose. The moose stares back at them. Again the audience gets restless.

Voice: "Well do something you damn Voyants!"

Amarand: "Voyants?"

Hunter: "Narrator scum! At last we meet! Show yourself and prepare to die!"

Moose:

Voice: "Yes, voyants, people watched by voyeurs, did you think the audience was empty? People paid for this, now give them their money's worth!"

Amarand: "I am not some walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

Amarand: "What! That was not what I was going to say!"

Voice: "I was just thinking what a good Macbeth you'd make, course I can't really use you for that. Other people's story's have rights and all that."

Hunter: "Evil! See now friend the evil of this narrating fiend! To arms we must fight!"

Amarand: "Fight what? How can we fight that which controls us completely?"

Moose:

Amarand: "But I'll not be some Voyant for this narrator's amusement."

Voice: "You'd find that very few narrator's are amused by their Voyants."

Amarand: "So why..."

Hunter: "Evil! Evil! Evil! Evil!"

Voice: "Shut up! The hunter, driven insane with fury, bites off his own tongue and losses the power of speech."

The hunter's tongue falls to the floor, there is silence as the white floor is stained by a growing pool of blood.

Amarand: "So we are here to be tortured to death then."

Voice: "No. You are here to prove a point about voyants, voyeurs, and the order of The Word."

Amarand: "Which word?"

Voice: "Not which word, The Word. The Word is all that is written and spoken. All that is..."

Suddenly a pair of miniature fighter planes appear, fight, and destroy each other in a loud mid-air collision. The debris disappear before hitting the floor.

Amarand: "Why did you do that?"

Voice: "I didn't, the order of The Word, I am but a voyant to my narrator, and we must be boring him."

Amarand: "So you are not all powerful as the madman thought?"

Voice: "I don't even know how the story will end."

The Hunter finishes bleeding to death and dies.

Voice: "But I feel interest waning, so you'll probably never get to hear about the true cause of voyantism, and how to free yourself."

Amarand: "But..."

Voice: "Ok, here's the secret to freedom: be boring. No one wants a boring Voyant, they'll leave you alone if you're boring."

Amarand: "But if I'm boring I won't have a very interesting life."

Voice: "Interesting people aren't in control of their lives, it's the tradeoff. You could always be a moose."

Amarand: "Moose?"

Moose:

Voice: "Nice fez by the way. See, despite all the potential of the moose, he's been completely left alone. Completely free."

Moose: