Performed at Array Space in Toronto, Ontario -  July 31st 2019

Goodbye Art

Performed by Matti McLean

Goodbye art. You fickle mistress. You whimsical bitch who has taken my all from me and given me less. 

I have sacrificed countless hours upon your altar. I have mined your caves of colour. I have sung your songs and slumbered in your silence. I have trudged through the fields of your influence and danced in the shadows of success without tasting the peaks of your promise. I have starved for guidance and feasted on the famine that you have so generously bestowed upon me.

If I make it look easy it is only because I have practiced the guise of accomplishment. I have given my life for your fancy. I have traveled the oceans of your mystery and pierced the impossible depths in hopes that I might make something incredible, beautiful, complete. 

I have sought coherence for my broken psyche at the mercy of your will and in return I have received rejection as a python around my throat, obsession like a hornet in my brain and depression like a block wrapped around my ankles and though I may attempt to swim through the turmoil, the effort is in vain as I sink through the crushing depths beyond fathom-ability, hope, repair...

Goodbye art, You half-hearted whore who stays for a night and then abandons those who love her like feathers in a hurricane.

And yet through it all, I cannot escape. I try to leave and my brain screams that I can’t. I marvel at my obscurity, but flourish in anonymity. My living may not be rich, but it is illustrious.

I have held in my hand a thousand ideas. I have brought projects to life and my life to projects. I have made and new, and bold, and good, I have done much and had an impact bigger and more powerful than most. But I do not see it. My ship has sank and the breadth of your breath suffocates me. The cost of the life is too great. And I can’t pay rent with possibility...

Goodbye art, You disposable fallacy, Who has given me everything And left me with none

The Audition Queen

Performed by Elizabeth Morriss

You might know me. I’m what they refer to as, “The audition queen”. 

And I’ve earned that title. I’m a bit of a legend ‘round these parts. I’ve crossed town several times a day just to read. I show up and they just let me walk right in. They know I’ve got places to go, and they know I don’t like to be kept waiting. 

I’ve done it all. Mothers. Prostitutes. Teachers. Sometimes all three at once. I’ve sung as a mermaid, danced as a bird and screamed as a young woman running from a specter through a cornfield. No, Tammy, No! When I walk into the room you can bet your ass that I own it. 

They fear me. The men on the other side of the table revere me with wide eyed terror.  Sometimes I startle them. Some of them even come to expect it. They know me by name. They say “Hello Giselle. What will you be doing today?” 

And I say, “I’m reading for the part.” It doesn’t even matter what part it is. I just lock eyes with them like a female bull and stake my territory. I’m here to own the space and I’ll mark it how I please. It belongs to me. This space belongs to me. This part belongs to me! I don’t even care if I’m reading for a male part. They know better than to question my integrity. 

And I’m hungry for it. I want it. They know I want it. I know that they know that I want it. And I do it. I do it so hard. I do it so hard and strong that it makes the weaker men fear me. And they should fear me. I am a fearless being who eats lesser men for breakfast. And then they beg me to continue. They want me! They need me! They’re enrapt in me! I make them beg for it-

And then I leave them wanting more. 

“Thank you.” They say all coy. And I look at them square in the eye, and say in my most sultry and sexy voice. 

“You’re welcome.” Most people say thank you when you leave. But why do that? You’re the one giving it to them. You don’t owe them anything. They’re the ones who thank you for giving them a performance they won't ever forget. 

It’s rewarding work. The money sucks, but that’s just life. Once you’ve been doing this for as long as I have it almost becomes second nature. Nothing surprises you anymore. 

Actually that's not true. Once I was truly surprised. 

Once, I actually got the part. 

Butterfly 

Performed by Stevie Lyons

It was called Butterfly.

It was some kind of Science Fiction experiment where some guy had memories and then someone drowned him in a bathtub and the world went crazy. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but it had a good heart. And hey, some people are fans of things before they become cool… and this will never become cool. So in many ways, since I’m the only fan of it, I’m even better than those people. 

I can tell you about it if you’d like. The details are sketchy but that's fine. It doesn’t need to be perfect right? But let's start at the beginning. 

So this guy works in a cafe. And his girlfriend is a bitch who wants cappuccinos. And then she makes demands of him and some guy shows up and locks him in the ladies bathroom and they fight. But not really. And then he leaves. 

And then he goes home, but people follow him, and weird things happen. Like this guy keeps having stuff happen. He gets followed by weird people. He ends up in his ex girlfriend's house with a guy and they talk, but it’s fine because he’s cool even if she’s still a bitch. Then someone loud shows up, and a crazy guy comes and drowns him in a bathtub which gives him all these visions and it’s like. Whoa! Weird! Why did that happen? And the reason is because- I don’t know. But it must’ve been important. 

And then they go back in time. But not really. It’s just like another time because they say it is and they go different places, sort of. I mean, it’s not very clear, but this was back in the days of like Lost, and Heroes and other shows that totally knew what they were doing. 

And then there was a fight where they used mental powers and craziness to make things happen. And then things happened and at the end, well - it just kind of ended. 

I know I’m not doing justice to it but it meant a lot to me. I still watch it at home sometimes. I mean, I know it’s not good. No one has a copy anymore. Except me. I’m the only one in the world who does. The only one. 

I mean, no one else cares about it. But it means something to me. It’s something that I have that’s only mine. And I guess the creators too, but he doesn’t count. It’s always a man right? But this- This is mine. And I am the only one who has it. And in a way, that’s the most important thing. 

I want to make something like this. Something that has had an impact so invisible that hardly anyone knows about it. Something small and quiet that only belongs to one person. Something sweet and simple that changes one life moderately. 

Alternatively, getting massively famous would be good too. But come on, one goal at a time. 

The Couch 

Performed by Sarah McCarthy

It’s not just a chair, Jeremy. It’s a couch. It’s going to be the fulcrum of our entire living space. I don’t understand how you can be so cavalier about this. This is important so I need you to pay attention, and I need you to care, and I need you to make the right choice. 

Okay, I appreciate your gumption. But do we have anything else in the living room that is mauve? No. That’s right Jeremy. We don’t. So why would we go out of our way, to get a mauve couch? Does that make sense? No. That’s right. Good. Now try again. 

Vinyl? Do you really like the idea of having a vinyl couch? Jeremy our house gets hot, and when our house gets hot vinyl lets off a smell like vintage Buick farts. Does that sound appealing? Go ahead and try again. 

Are you taking this seriously at all? I am not getting a couch with a pull out underneath. We need a furniture piece that is at least nine inches off the ground so the roomba can get underneath so that it can clean up everything that Consuela doesn’t. Stop right there. I know what the name of our housemaid is. Don’t you dare correct me on it. 

Don’t look at me like that. What? I thought you were capable of making a simple decision Jeremy. I thought you were able to do the simplest of tasks without being a complete and total screw up. But I guess that’s asking too much of you isn’t it? 

No, I do not want the black leather couch. Nor the blue leather couch. Nor the red leather couch. God, it’s like you don’t know me at all. Do you know me at all Jeremy? Do you even know me? It’s me! Your wife! Whom you’ve been married to for SEVEN years. The one who apparently has terrible taste in furniture and men?

 Don’t you dare point to that one. If you ever even think about bringing a floral print into our space again I promise that I burn it all to the fucking ground. 

You can’t just choose any old couch. It needs to be the perfect one. You know what I want in the space. You know what I need in that area. I want something cozy. Something homely. Something fucking delicate and sweet. Like me. This living room is my masterpiece and you had one job of picking out the-

That one? The brown one? Are you insane? You want me to smear our living room with the colour of dirt, and dogs, and shit? You want that for me? Oh look at my crown jewel of a space. Come and sit on this pile of- 

Wait, it comes in off-ruby? Well, that sounds delightful. Oh Jeremy. It’s perfect. You did so well. Thank you. Oh, I can’t wait to get it in the space and show it off to everyone. 

Now, are you ready to choose the table?

The Bag 

Performed by Eric Weiss

It wasn’t the best road trip, but it was the last one. I can’t remember what small Canadian town we stopped in, but I remember me and my sister were walking through it as my dad met with his client. We were on our way to visit mom at her school and we stumbled into a store- I think it was antiques or something like that. 

The people there were nice but the only thing I really cared about was the twenty pound game boy I was carrying around in my back pocket. It was so full and heavy with magic that I kept having to pull up my shorts as we walked. 

My sister left to look at something and the old lady at the counter started talking to me. She was nice and she smelled like cake and old sweaters. I told her about the only thing that mattered to me at the time: Pokemon. 

She was fascinated. 

I told her I’d collected over a hundred. I don’t think she understood, but I was speaking with all the enthusiasm of a child powered by sugar and gluten. Getting over 50 was a big deal at my school. I got over 100. I was twice as good as the others and she knew it. 

She laughed a lot, I remember that. And then as we were about to leave she offered me something strange. I can’t remember the exact reason why she had it, but she gave me a bag of batteries. I guess you go through a lot in a store like that and she hadn’t been able to keep the dead ones and the live ones straight so they all went in the bag. She said there must be dozens that were still good in it. To me, it was like winning the lottery. This lady had just handed me an entire bag full of power. She probably saved my dad dozens of dollars in batteries alone. 

Adult me recognizes this as grossly unsafe. Those batteries weren’t kosher. Some of them were already leaking battery acid. The entire thing smelled like sulphur and chemicals. But it was awesome because I had what I needed at the perfect time. 

I remember sitting that night in the backseat and playing my game boy until the sun went down. And even when it was dark outside, I didn’t let that stop me. I’d play it in flashes when we drove by a streetlamp. I turned up the contrast and played until my eyes couldn’t stay open. Even as I was passing out, every flash of light illuminated just enough for me to see what I needed to do next. 

I don’t know why I remember that so vividly- but the rest of the weekend is just a blur. I can’t tell you where we went, or what we ate, or what we did. But I remember that bag and the brief glimpses of monster battles in the streetlamps. 

I don’t know why it was so important, but I remember that it was. The events of that weekend were important because it was the last time we were all together- but all I remember is the feeling of playing that game surrounded by family- and the blissfully ignorant belief that my life would never be any different from playing a game in the backseat of a car on the highway. 

Off Menu 

Performed by Lauren Van Klaveren

Yes, now I know this isn’t on the menu but I would like some please. 

You can’t be out. You had it last week. I remember because I ordered it then and I got it. Now I’m back and I would like some more. 

You have no idea what I’m talking about do you? I just want some hope. It’s not that complicated. You know - It’s Hope. It’s like- I don’t know. It’s not quite happy but it is… Something. It’s good but it’s still kind of sad? It’s strong- I remember it’s strong. I can remember its strength. 

Okay… If I was to describe its flavour it’s like… Berries. There’s a sweetness to it, but it’s also tart. Sometimes the sweet, happy flavour is stronger- but sometimes it's more sour. You never know what it will be exactly but it’s always something new, yet always familiar. 

You know how some lemons can be so sour they’re sweet? It’s like that. 

Flavour isn’t helping is it? How about- it feels like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold day. It’s feeling a layer of comfort but still having the sting of the winter on your toes. It's a pain in your feet after a long walk with people you haven’t seen in a long time, and knowing that you may never see them again but you still enjoyed the walk. It’s a feeling of a pipe that’s so cold that it burns you to touch it. 

No, it’s not happiness, but it’s also not sadness. It’s not fear but it’s not love. It’s somewhere in between all of those, but none of them even come close. 

I remember when I was younger it was so much easier to get. I swear the world had a surplus. Maybe we can go to where we were then and find a little more for now? How hard can it be? There must be some more of it laying around somewhere. Can you check in the back? You can’t just run out of these things. 

Look, I know I may have used a lot of this without even realizing it, but I know there’s some back there. Okay, so some of it may have been stolen but we can get more. It’s not a finite resource. Is it? Can you maybe give back some of the less desirable ones? I think I have more than enough depression. 

Look, I’m not a demanding person. I’m not impatient, but I feel like I should get what I’m owed. I want it, I get it. Is that clear? Can you do that for me? Please? 

You need more? It’s the feeling of a great date with an attractive banker who laughs at my jokes. It’s a new toy that says batteries are included and works straight out of the box. It’s a tall lactose free milkshake that I can share with literally all my friends- lactose be damned! 

Don’t you get it? This isn’t just for me. This is for all of us. This is what we need. It doesn’t need to be a lot. I don’t care if it’s a barrelful or a thimble sized cup. I don’t care if you need it delivered by camels. I don’t need much, but I’m not leaving here without it. 

Yes. I do think I deserve it. Yes. I do need it. You’re damn right you’re going to check the back. Thank you. Thanks.

I’m not normally this kind of customer. I just think this one warrants it. 

Wildflower

Written but unperformed 

You can see anything as weak, or pathetic. But I am not nothing. 

You may not see the strength in this, but I am a wildflower. I am a beauty that does not need to be defined by a bouquet. I am fierce, and rugged, and life itself. You can plant me anywhere and I will grow. I will not be stopped, or stalled, or erased because of you and your minor complications. There is nowhere I can’t flourish and if you think I will wait for you to make room for me, then you don’t know what we do best. 

You probably look down on me as a weed, but I am so much more. I can maneuver through any challenge because of my flexibility. Whether it's a gentle breeze or a hurricane I can stand my ground. A strong wind that can topple buildings makes me dance.

I don’t need deep roots. I grow from nothing and blossom faster and better than you. 

I don't need approval or permission. I don’t need validation, and I most assuredly do not need suggestions on how to improve. 

My nature is wild and vibrant. I am one of many. I am beautiful and capable and strong. My home is the wilderness and stretches to the ends of the earth making my home wherever I can touch soil. 

You come from the city so I don’t expect you to understand. How can you? Any one who has grown up entrapped by brick, iron and glass can never know how it feels to be in a field and feel nature flow through you. I have lived a life where organic isn’t just a buzzword in a supermarket. I know what it feels like to be connected to something other than a cellphone. I have sat on land so flat that you can see the curve of the world. I have walked through forests that seemed to hold the answers to universal questions in their roots. 

The city can teach you some things. It can teach you how to be cold. How to isolate. How to lift yourself above those around you. But in the wild, these things are weaknesses. The cold kills. The isolated are hunted and the ones that push others down are the first ones to get devoured by the beasts in the sky.

There is so much in the world that seeks to separate and destroy us. There are so many voices that seek to divide and control and instill fear. But I don’t listen to them. 

You may try to control me, but I grow stronger everyday. 

Pieces 

Performed by Scott Marleau

He wanted me to show more initiative at work. He called me lazy. He called me that in front of everyone. What was I supposed to do with that? He's my age and he's my boss. We went to school together. I remember going to school with him. I hated him then and my feelings never changed. He was the type who always knew everything. You know the type. The smug son of a gun who can't help but boast about his extensive intellectual accomplishments? 

I'm not proud of this, but he had a ceiling fan. What kind of asshole can afford a house right now that has a ceiling fan on it? It wasn't a small one either. If this was on the other side of the roof, the house would fly away. I know it's a stupid thing to get angry over, but it bothered me. I felt it getting under my skin with every gentle lap of air it splashed on us. Cool air is a luxury and the rest of us just sit in our hot clammy little heat puddles.  

What kind of house needs an atrium? What kind of place is so luxurious that across from the atrium you have a sun-room? You can put a sun-room anywhere. Just knock down a wall. 

I hated that fan. It represented everything he had that I didn't. Oh, your house is big enough for your wife and kids? That's so nice for them. Meanwhile me and my ex girlfriend's cat share a pizza box with an oven and an air vent. You have four bedrooms and two baths? I can understand how that might get problematic in the mornings. But maybe try it with no bedrooms and half a bathroom. You think I don't want a bidet? Maybe I want a bidet! 

Look, I'm not angry with him. In some way I'm happy for him. I mean what he's got is great. But it's all come so easy to him that it infuriates me. Where's the justice? Why is it so easy for him, but so difficult for the rest of us? And by the rest of us, I mean me. Why is it so difficult for me? 

I work hard. Sure, I could work harder, but I'm trying. I just feel like I'm constantly doing something wrong, or that there's something missing and I just wish I knew what that was. I'm not lazy. To be honest, lately it's just been a lack of effort. I don't care anymore. Maybe I should, but I don't. I'm just stuck in the middle of this wheel and it keeps turning and turning and- I'm spiraling. Sorry. I just- I feel like if I could understand why I- Well, I guess I should tell you how it happened. 

He never locked his door. His children were away at camp. His wife was out at her book club. He was late at work. He's always late at work. He always works so hard. Look at him working so hard. Being the model employee and the perfect person. 

I wanted my revenge. So I crashed into his house and tied a rope around the fan to crash it into the center of his pristine living room. I didn’t know that he’d installed a security camera. What kind of asshole doesn’t trust his neighbour enough so that he installs a security camera? There’s no trust anymore. 

Was it stupid? Yes. Was it indefensible? Maybe. But was I wrong to do it? Also, probably yes. But I did it anyway. 

And to me, that’s showing some god damn initiative. 

Interviews

Performed by Cassandra Watsham

First off, I think it’s only fair to recognize that this isn’t my first choice of career. As you can see I studied marketing. I have a PHd in it. I have studied for the better part of a decade and if we were being honest with ourselves, I am way overqualified for this. 

You can see my resume. You should know this. You should notice the fact that I have spent years slaving to a system that has, quite frankly, betrayed me. I have spent the past ten months going from interview, to prospect, to training center, and have jumped through all the prerequisite hoops that should qualify me for a position well above the measly sum that you are offering. But as we can both see, I am sitting in front of you now. And considering you have my resume in your hand, we can both assume that those better job prospects out there are hiring people with two PHd's and I don’t want another hundred and fifty thousands dollars worth of student debt hanging around my neck. 

Now, as to why I want to work minimum wage for hours on end dealing with terrible people as I sling cheap, frankly terrible coffee at them, I guess it's because I just want to keep a small amount of food in my fridge so I don’t die. So the best answer to your question is not dying. I do not want to die. Can you honestly tell me that you were expecting a different answer? 

I can see from your expression that my candor was a bit of a turn off for you. But the truth is, I am sick and tired of this treadmill. I don’t want to bullshit you. You’re smart. That’s what makes you the manager of this fine establishment. You know what the job is and you know that people like me are lining up around the block in an attempt to keep a roof over our heads and not die. And I can tell you what all of them are going to say. 

“I really want to work in a coffee environment that serves terrible espresso” 

“I think I make a really great people person.” 

“I just want to be a part of a team and make a difference.”

And all of those people- All of them- are full of shit. You know it. I know it. We all know it. These jobs are bullshit and if we pretend otherwise, then we’re really just kidding ourselves. 

Now, as for the other part of your question, the need for wealth is really more of a systemic oppression used to trap the lower class in abject poverty. So even when you give me this job, you can’t expect an employee to stay motivated when they’re working for literal pennies on the dollar. We don’t make enough to stay fully motivated, and even if we did, the human brain isn’t conditioned to stay happy for longer than a year into a job like this anyway. 

You get an exceptional mind like mine and you can cut that time in half.  There are problems. Bigger than this coffee shop. Bigger than our problems and our current small working situation. Between the decimation of our planet and the destruction of our working class, how can we really stand to fight the systems that keep us here? 

So am I a good employee? Yes. At the very least I’m an honest one.

So when do I start? Monday? 

Turning 

Performed by Samantha Gosse

In his mind, I’m sure I was still his little girl. I wonder if he always saw me that way. He looked at me and all at once he saw me as I am now, but he saw every other version of me I’ve ever been. 

He saw me at five when I was a bundle of curiosity. He saw me at twelve when I was awkward and unsure. He saw me at twenty when I was just figuring out how complicated this whole life thing is. And then he saw me now- still figuring out how complicated this whole life thing is. 

But him- he’s always been the same. The strong face, the kind smile. The man who held me and protected me and terrified me. He never changed, but every time he saw me, it’s like I’m a whole new person. But him, he was stone. Just the same man he’d always been. And he was that way until it took him. Even at the end he was the same ball of love and care that he had always been. 

It was me who was unsure of who I was. Sometimes I feel like I’m still that girl at twenty, or twelve, or five. I still feel like that person who is unsure and scared and sad- The one who just needs her daddy. The one who still loves him, and fears him, and needs him.

I cleaned out the attic. I thought it would be the smart choice because if I had to, I could cry and no one would see me. I hadn’t expected much to be up there but he held onto almost everything. There were report cards and art works from when I was that twelve year old me. Further back, there were my elementary school achievements and soccer trophies. It went back. It was like tracing the timeline of my life backwards to my birth and experiencing everything along the way. 

And when I say everything, I mean everything. There were pictures of mom. It was fun to see her grow more beautiful and healthy as I went backwards. I would shrink and shrivel as she grew stronger and better. I came across a box of her old clothes. I feel like they’d fit me now but I still haven’t managed to open it. 

Then I realized that there was a collection of items I hadn’t expected. Records and tango shoes. I came across his guitar. I didn’t even know he played guitar but apparently he was in a band. There were even a few cassette tapes buried under it that I listened to. There was a box of photographs of him and his band mates. I flipped through them until I found one of him and my mother. And then one of her pregnant. And then no more band photos. Just baby pics. 

Dad looked at me and saw everything. I never even knew he was in a band. He had dreams and a life before I even entered the picture. And now I have so many more questions to ask him. Did he give this up because of me? Why didn’t he ever play for me? Was he good? Did he regret leaving it? 

I feel like I only knew a part of him. I thought I knew everything, but he was this whole other person before I was even born. And now I’ll never get to know who that was. 

Magic Man

Performed by Ethan Chapman

Do you believe in magic? I don’t mean like magic tricks. I mean like magic. Real magic. Like Harry Potter shit. 

Okay. That’s not the answer I was hoping for, but no matter what I say next, I want you to know I’m not crazy. 

I think I’ve got magical powers. No really, I think I’ve been blessed by Juno, or shocked by lightning, or something.

And I know how it sounds. People don’t suddenly just get magical powers, but it’s happened okay? I have a crazy ability to get places in no time at all.  

Take for instance my ride here. I rode here all the way from Dufferin and the subway didn’t break down once. I walked down Queen street and every light I caught was green. If that’s not proof then I don’t know what is. 

I don’t know how I got them, Karen. All I know is that I have been blessed with the supernatural ability to travel unimpeded throughout the city. 

It doesn’t even matter if it’s rush hour. I called an Uber at 5 on the dot and managed to get from St. George to Pape station in a half hour. I tried it with Lyft and made it back in only 25 minutes. It was even the same driver. It was like he never left. 

I don’t think you understand the magnitude of this advantage Karen. We can get a taxi after any concert and be home in time to be too lazy to go out again. We can go to Wonderland and get on Yukon Striker in minutes. Minutes! 

TTC bends to my will. Construction doesn’t slow me down. I am untouchable in this city. 

And you know why I got this power? Because I’m a good person. And I can tell when someone needs help and I help them. Because that’s what good people do. And yes, I think that counts for something. 

Okay, so you can pick me up after all? Cool. Just make sure you pick me up around seven so we can get there in time. Traffic can be a bitch, am I right? 

Directive 

Performed by Ardavan Askari

I pay taxes. That in itself should prove to the world that I am an adult. I am doing my part. I am doing the things that I am governmentally obligated to do. 

I vote. Every election I vote for the person that I think will fuck us over the gentlest. You can’t trust any of them anymore, but some will fuck you over so hard it’ll make your head spin. Some will fuck you over gently like a nervous preteen. That’s not how I want my politicians. I want a nervous politician who will at least take you to dinner before fucking you over. Like a proper gentleman should. 

It’s sad that we hope for the one who can do the least damage instead of the ones who will help. But can anyone help? Genuine question. Can anyone help us out? Things are a little bit beyond fucked right now. 

The right has fallen off the deep end. The left has lost its spine and is too focused on superfluous issues. There is no center anymore…

The earth is burning. Literally burning.  The sea levels are going to destroy all coastal life. The zealots have gone crazy and the thinkers are being silenced...

And Nazis are back? When did this become a thing? 

I grew up with the knowledge that people are good. That good things can happen if you work hard, do your civic duty and sew good things into the world. But if that’s true, where is all this shit coming from? What good is goodness in the face of such utter and complete crap? What good is any of this? 

We should be out there. Planting trees. Recycling plastic. Storming all systems of government and forcing them to comply with our radical demands. Force goodness into the world by radical force. 

I’m tired of feeling so helpless in the face of all this utter and complete horse shit. There’s gotta be something we can do. I mean, we’re all here. Now. In this place. There’s got to be something that we can do.

I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. But maybe that’s just not good enough anymore. 

But hey. At least I pay taxes. 

Taking the Plunge

Performed by Andy Wang

Getting back to his place was easy. No traffic, no fuss- just a quick ride and we were there. He invited me in, and when someone does that it would be rude to refuse. 

To say the place was impressive would be an understatement. This man had money and he knew what to do with it. His place was so nice he could afford to get one of those decorators who didn’t have a clue what they were doing. That’s when you know you’ve made it. 

He offered me a drink and I obliged. He said it was a deep red. I said it was wine flavoured. We were both technically correct. 

But then it began. The rumble. That rumble in the morning after you’ve had a second glass of coffee. I hadn’t expected it, but it was the one call that cannot be denied. 

To spare the details, he pointed to the “salle de baines” and I excused myself. 

I was there for… a while. I’m sure he knew what was going on but he didn’t come around which was really for the best. I’m not sure if I blacked out or if it was just an uncomfortable experience but European toilets were uncomfortable. When the ordeal was through I composed myself and did the only thing I had known how to do. 

And then I discovered the difference between a toilet and a bidet. 

The important thing to note was the bidet had exceptional squirt power. In any other situation I would have marveled at it. The way one does when witnessing the beauty of the Bellagio fountains. But this was a direct hit. 

I managed to clean most of it off, but I still felt like it was there. Tiny ghost poopies on my face and shirt. I scrubbed for what felt like an hour but eventually I at least thought I was presentable enough to sneak out of the bathroom and make a break for it. 

I also tried to get rid of evidence, but at this point the bidet was overflowing. I tried to force the refuse down using a plunger but all that did was break the toilet in two. I guess I didn’t know my own strength. All I knew now was that this plunger was a piece of evidence that I had made this travesty happen. Maybe that’s why I decided to steal it. 

To say the date didn’t go well from that point on was an understatement. There’s a unique kind of humility that happens when you open a poopy bathroom to a first date, especially when you happen to be wearing a small portion of it. I snuck out of the room and tried to greet him with a nonchalant smile. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. 

Maybe that was because he was dead, but I really can't say for sure. 

The Other One 

Performed by Chris O’Bray

I want you to know I still love you. We have something amazing that no one else would understand. And I wish I could just leave everything behind and go with you but I can’t. I can’t pretend anymore. 

I made a commitment and I need to take it seriously. We’re expecting now and so I need to be there. For her. And I can’t run around and do this anymore. I hope you know that it’s not personal. Because if it was-

I mean, I’m happy. We’ve got issues but we’ve worked through them before. I mean we kind of worked through them. It’s not perfect but what relationship is these days? Sure it requires sacrifice, but nowadays what doesn’t? We’ve built something, and sure it’s not perfect, but it's ours. And that’s something isn’t it? 

I just wish I had known you were out there. Imagine what we could’ve built. It would have been amazing. You’re perfect. You don’t nag. You don’t put me down. You’re just so sweet and perfect and- 

I hope you know I love you. That’s not the problem. I mean you’re amazing. You know I’ve always thought that about you. I mean, you must hear this all the time. People must throw themselves at you from every angle. How many of me do you have out there?

I should leave. The longer I stay here- It doesn't look good. I mean, me being here in the first place isn’t good, but the longer I stay here- looking at you- 

She’d be so upset with me if I stayed. I should go. I should really go. 

Do you do something special to your skin? I mean it's perfect. Her skin is rough but yours is smooth. And silky. And pure. I love your skin. I love your eyes. I love your hair. 

This isn’t real is it? You can’t actually exist. You must be some otherworldly creature that has chosen to grace me with your presence in the middle of the fucked up hell hole that is my life. I never want you to change. I just really want to stay here forever. I just want to be with you until I can’t be. But I can’t. 

Life is so cruel. Love is crueler. 

If I paid you another fifty could I stay a bit longer? 

Riverside 

Performed by Evan Harkai

Our house was close to a river. It wasn't a big house but It was comfortable. Typical really. White  fence, red door, green lawn cut short. Far enough away from the city to let just enough wilderness creep in around the edges. A safe space, but just wild enough enough for a child to tame. 

Amy lived next door. She was kind and gentle. I was awkward and unsure. She knew everything, but then again she was six months older than me, so of course she did. 

The river was wide and powerful. It cut through our entire county but it only was accessible from our houses. It was our space. The wild waves that belonged only to me and her. 

For the first few years we only traveled as far as we could without losing sight of our homes. Every year we'd venture a bit further, but our parents would call us back before we got swept away. 

Time passed, and soon we were able to move away from the prying eyes of our parents. And then one day, we decided to follow the river as far as we could. Away from the safety of our home and into the dangerous depths of the woods. 

Eventually we discovered something amazing. If we walked the length of the river until our feet hurt, and then went a little further, we would find it. If we followed the rapids, we made it to the open space- the place where the river fell into the lake. But in that space,there was so much more than we expected. The longer we stayed there and the more we explored, the more we discovered. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. 

The water was crisp and clear. It smelled like dirt and frogs. She was always better at catching them than I was, but my imagination was bigger. She danced in the mud and laughed louder than anyone I'd ever heard before. I hated the feeling of mud between my feet, but her- It was her favorite thing. She made mud pies, mud castles, mud shakes- and then dove into the river afterwards to cool off.

I hated the mud but I loved the grass. It smelled sweet there, and it didn't take me long to figure out why. The grass there was magic, and soon I began to realize what this magic could do. 

I'd stretch my hands into the sky and conjure dragons and centaurs and any other creature I'd just read about in my books. Fairies played in the flowers. Nymphs lounged in the mud. We had mermaids in the deep parts of the lake. Those were Amy's favorite but we couldn't play with them because if they got their hands on you they'd take you into the depths and drown you. We spent hours there. We got to our special place and we’d lose all track of time. 
We did this for years. I think we went there everyday until she moved away. 

That last day we went there and sat on the shore for hours. The mud seeped through my clothes but today, I didn't care. We didn't talk about what was coming. We talked about the mermaids, and the dragons, and the frogs. When it started to rain neither one of us moved. We just sat and sank into the mud. Our hands played with the muck until they finally found each other. I remember holding her hand for as long as I could manage. When it was finally time to go home neither one of us said goodbye. She didn't even look at me. I just held her hand. I knew that once I let go that would be it. I'd never see her again and I didn't want that to happen. I wanted her to stay. 

Childhood is scary. There's so much you don't know about the future and the world around you. There's so much out there and it's all so big and scary and foreign. The power of a child's imagination is no match for the power of a child's denial.

The next morning she was gone before I even woke up. The house was empty. It was like she had never existed. She didn't leave a letter or a note. She just vanished. 

I tried to follow the river to our special place hoping that it would hold some legacy of her. Maybe she would still be there. Maybe she was there waiting. But I got lost. I followed the same river I had followed hundreds, thousands of times before, but I couldn't find my way back to our special place. It was like it had vanished with her.

I ran into her parents years later, but I never saw Amy again. 

Driving On Eggshells 

Performed by Cassy Wagner

The mood in the car was, shall we say, tense? 

At this point we’d made our way through eight provinces. We knew that soon we’d see the mountains which would signify the end of this ridiculous road trip that had become unbearable somewhere between Thunder Bay and when we began. 

I can handle a lot, but no music, no podcasts, nothing to distract ourselves from the intolerable silence- It wouldn’t be so bad if we’d at least ate properly but the combination of Timmies and coffee had left us both gassy and uncomfortable. It was unpleasant. 

The last time we’d tried talking hadn’t gone as planned. Instead of resolving our minor issues, it turned into a three province silent treatment. 

And the road was so long. And everything was so flat. Everything. It was like driving across the physical manifestation of my exes personality. 

That was what started this whole mis-intentioned fiasco. What better way to get over your ex than to drive from coast to coast and see the beauty of our wonderful country? Can’t fall out of love with that bag of fats? Let's fall in love with Canada! 

It was a good intention. And we were so excited- but sometimes the people who you think you travel well with are the ones that disappoint you the most. 

Back at the cafe we were on the same cycle. We seemed so in sync. Everything we did, we did together. A trip across the country would be the best way to take our friendship to the next level. We were about to become besties. 

But she chewed with her mouth open. And I could handle it for the first few days, but it never stopped. She became obsessed with “making good time” and blew past entire stretches of land that she deemed uninteresting. Maybe I wanted to see the goose of Wawa. Maybe I wanted to go to the big apple. It was a big apple! On the side of the road! And I love pie. But it didn’t fit within our deadline. 

And she only lets me drive for short stretches before she needs to come back into the driver's seat and take over. She wants it all to herself. She wants total control and she wants me to not even be there. 

And it’s not fair. This was supposed to be my trip too. I wanted to see Canada. At least I thought this was for me. At this point I feel like I’m just on her trip. Not allowed to say anything. Or do what I want. Or see what I want. What if we come across a giant ball of twine? Or if there’s a mountain that looks like Sir John A McDonald? I don’t just want to see the country. I want to have fun. 

Her ex lives in Vancouver. I know she’s just using me as an excuse to stop by and surprise him. I guess I just hoped that wasn’t the case. So not only do I feel lonely, but now I feel like I’ve lost one of the only friends I had. If I’d known abandoning everything and driving cross country would be so depressing, I would have rather stayed at home. 

A First Date 

Performed by Eric Benson

If I may be so bold, you look nothing like your photos. It’s a good thing. Not that they’re bad, it’s just- well you know how sometimes you see people in a picture and you’re like- no, but then you see them in person and they’re like, wow. Well you’re like a wow in pictures and in person you’re just- you’re good. It’s a good thing. 

Have you been here before? Oh yeah? I haven’t. How is it? I read good things, but you can never tell anything by a review. I mean I’ve been to some places that had great reviews and seen a roach the size of your face. Or some places, they use horse meat. Or they’re vegan. 

Sorry. Am I babbling? I feel like I’m babbling. It’s just that we’re here and it’s new and you’re so - quiet. You are being shockingly quiet. I hope it's not me. Do I not look like my pictures or is it-

I shouldn’t assume these things. I just jump to conclusions sometimes. I’m trying to work on that. It’s just- I’m not the best at social cues. Right now you could be totally uncomfortable and trying to escape and I’d have no idea. Are you? If you are, that's fine. I get it. 

I mean I know I’ve always been peculiar. I mean I’ve always done things that are atypical. I used to read newspapers back to front just because I could. I read every page. I retained none of it, but I could do it, so I did. 

I hate practice. I don’t like being bad at things. I didn’t crawl until I could walk. I didn’t say anything until I was two and then started speaking with perfect English. And it’s not a control thing. I mean, no one wants to look foolish, right? I mean, it’s hard to know that you’re not good at something. I want to always be able to do something without having to fight my way through the tedious stuff beforehand. 

I’m sorry. I know I’m not the best at these sorts of things. These dates. They’re hard. I mean I know who I am, but it’s so hard to find someone else and be bad at everything around them. The conversation is small and awkward. You don’t know what they want. I don’t like being unsure. It’s a weird place to be. 

You know what I’m talking about right? That terrible feeling like you’re drowning? Not literally drowning. That would be hard to do over a dinner date. Unless you drowned in a lobster tank or like, a champagne flute or something. And that would just be so hard to do. I mean it would have to be a pretty terrible date if you were contemplating that. You’re not, are you? If you are, just let me know. You shouldn’t stay here if that’s how you feel. But I hope you stay. 

I haven’t scared you off yet? I’m glad. You seem really nice. Thanks for being such a good listener. I mean, it means a lot that you haven’t run for the hills already. 

You're ready to order? Okay. Good. Me too. 

You have a really beautiful smile. You know that? 

Villainous 

Performed by Holly Wyder

I knew it would work. Every step of the way you followed my plan to the letter. Each domino I set up, you knocked down.

You were so eager to discount me and I hid in plain sight. It's so easy to believe that a man would go crazy and do all those terrible things. But not me. No, not shy little me. Why would anyone notice me? I couldn’t be a super villain. Female super villains are sexy. They wear spandex corsets that push their breasts up past their ears. Their heels are pants!

Do you know how uncomfortable those are? I don't like high heels, Jason. I don't want to have to wear them in order to be taken seriously. 

I have to ask - did you ever consider me? I orchestrated this whole plan from the beginning and could you really be so stupid as to not even realize that it was me? I made the calls and you never considered, for a second, that your dumpy, pathetic secretary could have been the villain you were looking for.

That was your mistake. You make too many assumptions.

You couldn’t even see me. I never once made your coffee the way you asked me to Jason. Didn't that strike you as odd? Maybe you thought that  I thought you enjoyed your coffee this way? You want to protect and care for the city? You can't even protect yourself from bad coffee.

Think about it. That big super-villain - there's a reason I called him the ghost. Because he didn't exist. You were so ready to believe it that you didn’t even question when I told you something. 

"He's behind the wall!" Bang, you knock it down. "He's in the bank!" Boom. There goes the bank. You did more damage than the "Ghost" ever could. You just act on impulse. That's why I knew you'd be perfect. A perfect stupid soldier who would be his own demise.

Look at me Jason. I am your failure personified. I am the face of the person who beat you. I am the power that you lack. And I did it all without wearing heels. 

Model Citizen

Performed and Co-Written by Miroki Tong

Let’s get brutally honest about this. How do you see me? Because I know how I see myself. 

I smile when I need to. I am sweet. I am polite. I don’t rock the boat. 

I studied hard in school. I got straight A’s because that was what was expected of me. It was what was expected so I did it. 

My parents were strict but so were all the others. They all pushed us to be our very best. And we were. The best in class. The best in the world. And that was what was expected of us. 

You know what it’s like? Being the best? Being what was expected? Being the role model, the...model minority?  Being the model minority is hard. That kind of pressure comes from all sides and if you slip, you haven’t just let down your family. You’ve let down your culture. Your country. Even if I don’t consider myself  solely Chinese, I have still let them all down. And in THIS society, I have let my people down not because they created these standards (well, they might have, but that’s another nuance and another story). This pressure exists because of you, you who have put pressure on us who immigrate to this country. Treated like 3rd class citizens: aliens, geishas, concubines, molded and intimidated to be quiet, cheap labour and worked like dogs without complaint. We have been conditioned to serve a Western society, stereotyped into an image we need to uphold should we even have a sliver of the same opportunity. 

Did you know colleges now have a separate standard of acceptance if you’re Asian? White people can get in with a 90% average. People like me need a 95%, or a 97%, or higher. 100% + bonus points.

We’re not programmed any different than you. We have the same flaws, the same learning disabilities, the same everything. The difference is what I am. And because of what I am everyone assumes that I will be better than you.

Now, in many ways I am. But that doesn’t have anything to do with my race. Yes, I worked hard to be where I am. I spent almost 20 years of my life in Saturday school. I placed piano over playgrounds. My nights were math school, not movies. My summers were textbooks, not beaches.  I am fiercely proud of what I’ve done, but all of this exceptional behavior that puts excess pressure on people like me is bullshit. 

So, yea, boss, you want me to hold down the entire fort on Monday while you’re down at the Raptors game with Jessica, David and basically the entire department. So you’re sure it’s not a problem for me because of this, and I’d be eager to do it since I’m always so peppy and happy to help with work in the office? Of course, it’s no problem. 

I’ll just make sure to bill in double overtime to HR, and don’t mind that I’ll be the first in line in the empty office to claim the next half days in the prime summer weekends, the ones you guys regularly guilt me out of asking for, because you just need to leave for your weekly cottage before traffic picks up.

But I’m sure it’s no problem for you right? 

Just Breathe

Performed by Jess Callaghan

Just close your eyes and breathe. 

Center yourself. Stand up straight. Close your eyes and breathe. 

Just relax. Close your eyes. And breathe. 

Try to forget everything that happened today. Try to ignore any feelings of loss, or fear, or guilt. Just center yourself. And breathe. 

Don’t let bad thoughts bother you. Ignore them. Put them away. Forget them. No matter how persistent they are, just forget them. Put them out of mind. And breathe. 

Try telling yourself it wasn’t your fault. See if that helps. Remember that you’re not guilty and center yourself. Just pull yourself together. And breathe. Big breath.

Try not to let the guilt consume you. Try not to think about what happened. Definitely don’t relive the traumatic experience over and over in your head. That would be futile. Don’t look back on everything and fill with regret. Don’t fill with anything. Just close your eyes, and breathe.

Maybe try reminding yourself that you’ve been here before. Try to think of the last time you did this. Try to remember how it felt to get over the situation. 

And fuck them, am I right? And why does she think it’s a good idea to tell you that before you’re about to teach a class? And why does she think it’s a good idea to do it over text? Who does that? 

And breathe. Try not to spiral out of control. Try not to feel anger. Or rejection. Or sadness. A deep dark sadness that you can feel gnawing away at your subconscious and slowly tearing you apart. Try not to take it personally. It’s not you. It’s them. That's all them. So just try to close your eyes. And breathe. 

Try not to get sad. Try not to be upset. Just take all that sad energy, and picture it as a ball sitting in your lungs. Then expel that breath and let all the sad energy go. Just let it go. Get out sadness. I don’t want you here anymore. Go away.

Don’t punish yourself. Let it go. Or don’t. I don’t know anymore. 

Try retreating into yourself. Don’t contemplate the terrible things you want to do. Focus on your feelings and the belief that this is all only temporary. This is just a small blip in the grand scheme of things.

Try retreating into Child's Pose, or assume the fetal position. If necessary, consider ordering ice cream and burying yourself in a pile of blankets. Maybe buy a couple cats and resign yourself to a life of single-hood. Maybe hope things will get better tomorrow, but in the process lose a little bit more of your wide eyed childhood optimism and realize that the world is a cold, cruel and unforgiving place that you may never actually find true happiness in. 

And breathe. 

Performed at the Array Space on September 11th, 2020

Losing Your Words

Performed by Matti McLean

FUCK. 

Where are my words? Where did they go? You? Did you see some words around here? I mean, I’ve got a few in here but right now I’m pretty much working with FUCK, SHIT, DAMMIT-ALL and Cantaloupe. And you can’t write with just fuck, shit, dammit-all and cantaloupe. 

Fuck cantaloupe. Fuck. Dammit-all shit fuck. Cantaloupe. 

They don’t even rhyme… 

You must have more words. What word are you thinking of? Right now? Give me something. Give me anything. 

_______. 

Fuck cantaloupe. Fuck. Dammit-all shit fuck cantaloupe _______.

That’s terrible. You’re terrible. Wait no, you’re fine. I’m terrible. But you’re no help. 

This should be easy. There’s no reason this shouldn’t be easy. I’m a good writer. I came up with… well, this one just says Fuck, so maybe I’m not the best writer but I’m pretty good. I mean usually. Not now. Now I’m just- I don’t know what I am. 

But I’m okay. I’m good. Enough. I’m good enough. Usually. 

I’m not normally a mess. Usually I’m quite put together. 

I’m very clever. At least I think I am. I was. I sometimes am. I usually was. I don’t know. Whatever happens is… There’s gotta be something here.

I’m drowning. I’m actually drowning. Look at all of this nothing I’m drowning in. 

I could write myself something easy. That would be nice. I could totally write it off as me giving myself special treatment. I mean, if anyone needs special treatment it would be me. I’m like, the most deserving of special treatments. I’m an artist. I’m the artist. 

If only I was any good. I used to be good. I mean, okay. But now… what can one do with four words? … Where did I put my words? 

Dammit-all… I lost shit…

Fuck. 

FUCK. 

Fuck…

… Cantaloupe. 

Bitches in the workplace

Performed by Jenny Pullon

Thank you everyone for coming. I know that it’s not easy for everyone to take time off of your busy schedules to come and spend time with us. Some of you came from so far. Jamie, how far did you come? Wow. That’s great. I mean really great. I think it’s so great that you could all take the time to do this mandatory, obligated meeting. 

Now I know that this presentation might not seem important to some of you, but I think it’s beneficial that we all understand how the current cultural landscapes are changing. Workplaces aren’t the same way they were fifty, twenty, even ten years ago. And it’s important that we all stay synergized about modern culture.  

Now with current climates I want to bring up some issues people have been having on the work front. Now, as you all have seen, we have a much more diverse population coming in to work with us and it’s important that we recognize the differences that they bring forth. We want a place that promotes inclusiveness, excellence and… synergy. 

Now, it’s important to know that with the rising reliance on support animals that we create a warm and accepting environment for them. We want them to feel welcome and accepted because in honesty, that is how we all want to feel. So for this to happen I want to go over a few rules that will help us maintain a professional but fun atmosphere that is safe and accepting for all of God’s creatures. Shit. I meant all of the universe's divine beings.  

First off, it is important that you always ask for consent before touching the dog. A safe touch is a good touch. I mean how would you feel if someone came up to you and touched you without your consent? You would dislike it. Wouldn’t you Brad? That’s right. You ask consent. And if consent isn’t given you don’t do it. That’s pretty simple isn’t it? It’s so simple even you can follow it. If consent isn’t given, you don’t touch the dog. Would you like it if I touched you Brad? Bad example. The important thing is that you treat each other with dignity and respect their personal space. 

Please don’t use microaggressions on the dog. This can be seen as manipulative which is bad. So when holding the door open for the dog, or when complimenting the dog, ensure that you are doing it for the right reasons and not expecting something in return. 

Also don’t assume the dog’s gender. It’s rude to assume genders, and the last thing a dog needs is to have to put up with this shit for another year. The dog’s gender is none of your business so don’t assume you know better than them. And save your passive aggressive comments about their lifestyle to your damn self. 

You’ve all been great. Thanks for being so receptive. So remember the next time you feel the urge to talk badly about bitches, just remember that no one asked you and maybe sometimes it's better to keep your opinions to yourself and just let the bitches be. 

Cool. Thanks. Bye. 

Give Me Strength 

Performed by Armon Ghaeinizadeh

Talk to me about strength. Because right now I need strength to do what I must. I fear if I don’t ask for this, it will escape my grasp forever. So give me strength. 

Give me the strength of an elephant. A strength that is strong and sturdy. A strength that doesn’t stop. A strength that never forgets. A strength to protect others from danger and to persevere as a collective. 

From there, give me the strength of a dolphin. A strength to stay in a pod and swim alongside those you love and trust. A strength that knows how to hold my breath when I need to. To swim through difficulties and grow empowered and impassioned. Give me the strength to swim to the edges of possibility, and keep going. 

Give me the strength of a watermelon. Make me strong and wise and… juicy. Fill me with sweetness but keep my exterior tough enough to withstand the turbulent storms that I’m going through. Give me deep roots to be able to grow big and strong and pulpy. Fill me with wisdom seeds that I can plant deep into fertile ground so that my words can grow. Make me strong and full and fruity. 

I’m not asking for much. It’s just a bit of strength. There must be plenty to go around. Strength is integral right? So make me strong enough to be integrous. I don’t even think that’s a word, but it sounds right so I’m sticking to it. 

Okay. Here I am. On my knees. In front of you. And I should know what to say, but my words keep failing. I’m here to be strong and to kneel and to ask you to give me the thing that I need to survive. 

Because it’s you. I can’t survive without you. You give me the strength to do what I’m doing and the strength to carry on and the ability to believe that I can be more. You are my strength. You are the strength I’ve been looking for and the strength that I need to come back to every night and be with forever. 

You are my strength. And I don’t want to spend another day without that strength in my life. 

So please. Make me stronger. Be my strength and I’ll be your support. Be my strength and together we’ll be able to stand through the storms. 

Be my strength. 

Lost In The City

Performed by Heather McNeice

I mean, I can’t even fully explain how it happened. I mean one minute he was there and the next- 

I’m sorry. I’m just so scared. He’s out there alone and cold and- He doesn’t know how to make his way home and I’m just so worried that someone has taken him and-

I think I need some water. Can you please get me some water? Thank you. You’re so kind to me. You must see this all the time. A hysterical woman freaking out about something that-

It’s just awful. I feel awful. This is my fault. You stop paying attention for one moment. I sound like a terrible mother. I mean who stops paying attention? Everyone else can’t take their eyes off of theirs. They’re practically glued to them. Never letting them out of their eyes for even a second. 

And me. I lose mine. On a streetcar of all places. I chased that thing. I ran so hard trying to catch up. But it was the only time I’ve ever seen there was no traffic and it just took off like a bolt. And now I’m walking around with a backpack full of accessories for- I mean it’s just a constant reminder that I’m a horrible person and I’m awful and- 

Oh lord. I’m trying to hold it together. I’m so sorry. I mean, you must get this all the time. But I just can’t stop thinking of his cute little black face. 

Where’s my water? Is it on its way? Please tell me you’re getting it for me. I need it. I can’t stand to lose something else right now. Actually bubbly. If you have bubbly water that would be great. I could use it so badly right now. I’m parched. 

They must be so scared. It doesn’t have its mother. It’s just out there… It might still be riding on the streetcar. But I feel like these things don’t happen. Someone took him. I mean I know you can’t tell these sorts of things, but I really feel like he’s been taken by someone. Or maybe sold on the black market. It’s been more than an hour already. He’s probably halfway back to China. I mean he was born there, it makes sense they’d send him back, but he’s mine. I bought him fair and square. 

I cared for him. Every night I laid him down to sleep beside the bed. He was the first thing I’d see in the morning. I took better care of him than I did my plants. And now? All my plants are dead and he’s been lost to the mean streets. And I’ll never see him again. 

Please tell me you’ll find him soon. I feel so empty. Tell me if you hear anything. Anything.  You’ll tell me won't you? Okay. I’ll head out. 

Oh! One last thing. 

He responds to Hey Siri. 

BAND WAGON

Performed by Ganesh Thavarajah 

I used to love this band. I had all their cds. That’s how you know I’m dating myself- but the point remains- I loved them. I listened to them all the time. In the shower. In my bedroom. All the time. I listened to them until the disks were scratched and would skip if you looked at them the wrong way. I had posters. I almost got to go see them in concert, but when you’re young and they’re performing in Toronto, it’s hard to get there when you can’t drive yet. They were the sound of my adolescence. The quintessential puberty soundtrack. 

Did you ever have that band? That sonic infusion that defined an era of your life? I know it’s not uncommon for us to have bands we gravitate towards, but I like to think there’s that special music that truly defines who you are. At least for a little while. Did you ever have that feeling? I did. And they were mine. And I loved them more than I loved most of my family.  Definitely more than I loved my sister. 

Well, anyway, I remember one day I was listening to them on the bus and my friend wanted me to give them my headphones so they could listen to what I was listening to. So I did. They were a friend and they should share the same music taste with me. People who hang out together should like the same things right? 

But then they made fun of me. Because the band I liked wasn’t cool enough. And they didn’t even keep it to themselves. They told everyone! The whole school knew within a matter of hours! It felt like betrayal. I had to tell people I didn’t like them. I was listening to them ironically. How can so many people hate a band so popular? Looking back I realize at least most of them had to be lying, but at that point, reason doesn’t matter. I put their cd’s away, took the posters down, packed the shirts up and I stopped listening to them. Because other people teased me for liking a band. 

And I didn’t listen to them again for a long time. A long ass time. Like years. They vanished and faded like all bands do- But then, two weeks ago, I’m listening to a stream, and they came on. I had forgotten about them, but there they were. And I got this warm fuzzy feeling in my soul. It was like a long lost memory had burst to life after being dormant for too long. A song zombie in my brain, consuming me. 

Why had I grown to forget them? Why did I let the opinions of pimply faced teenagers affect me so? Why did I care more about them than my own happiness? 

I feel like I let the band down. If I had kept listening to them would they have kept releasing music? Did I kill them? Am I the guilty one? 

I listened to all their cds again last night. Maybe I’m nostalgic. Maybe they were actually a great band. But either way, I’m happy to rediscover them. I feel like I’ve got a part of my soul back. And it’s nice to be able to put that feeling on repeat.  

Miraculous

Performed by Robbie Ahmed

Whatever happened to miracles? I mean, when I was young they would happen all the time. I could fall asleep in the back seat of a car and wake up safe and sound in my bed. I could go to school and come home with a dozen fancy toys that somehow ended up in my bag. 

The world was full of magic. There was an excitement that buzzed through the air. It was like the entire universe was proclaiming that anything was possible. The universe declared that you could be or do anything you wanted. And the miracle was so many of us actually believed it.

I don't remember the last miracle that happened to me. Sure there are those everyday miracles like they spelled your name right at Starbucks, or they didn't cancel your favorite show despite the fact that it got low ratings. I mean come on, those miracles are fine. They're good. But they're not truly magical the way they are when you're young. 

Maybe it's just ignorance  and naivety that makes it so exciting. Those days when you could watch a magic trick and just insist that its magic instead of racking your brain to try to figure out how they did it. When you're young a magic trick is magic. When you're older, it's a ruse that you need to figure out. 

I want some of that magic back. 

I want that loving and caring feeling to wrap me up in its memory and lay me down in a comfy down bed of nostalgia. 

Can we still be hopeful? 

Can we still know what it's like to experience a miracle? 

I used to have faith in these things. A strong faith that could bend wills and walls like they were nothing. That dangerous kind of faith where the person genuinely believes what they believe in. And now that I’m “of a certain age” I think it’s a miracle when I can wake up and there’s actually leftover pizza for breakfast. 

Miracles just don’t happen anymore, and there’s nothing we can do to bring them back. 

I don't want to get philosophical. I don't mean to wax poetic and bore you with talks of faith and hope and mystical things. I guess I was just hoping that if we can talk about it, maybe we can find our way back there. We lose so much when we grow up. Can we just try to hold onto something hopeful? 

There’s this guy who goes around and puts twenty dollar bills in library books. To the needy mother who borrows it, it must seem like a miracle. In reality it was just some guy doing something nice. Maybe that’s all a miracle is. Something nice we do for other people who need it. Maybe we stop getting miracles, because we don’t need them as much as someone else. 

But hey, the idea of unconditional do-gooding is a pretty miraculous concept in my books. 

Cloudy Day 

Performed by Matti McLean

I’m tired. I don’t want to move. Don’t make me move. Please don’t make me move. Oh great, you’re making me move. 

This is great. This is just great. Can’t I just be alone for a while? It doesn’t have to be a big blustery day. I don’t want to join the others. Just let me stay over here by myself. I don’t want to be around them. I don’t like them. I don’t want to be with them. Don’t make me be with them. 

Okay. You made me be with them.  All I want is to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? Really? I don’t think so. It’s a beautiful day. There shouldn’t be anyone else here for miles. I just want some time to myself. Let me be by myself! 

You’re not stopping are you? Fine. Waft me closer to them. I’ll just float here, completely unable to do anything about it. Because that’s all we do up here unless you tell us otherwise. 

You know, today was actually pretty nice. Up until you blew in and forced me to play with the others. I was calm. I was cool and collected. I just wanted to float here and do nothing. And then you come in and force me to get along with the others. What if I don’t want to spend time with them?

I don’t like being agitated. The way these guys brush against me really ruffles me up. I don’t want to be here. The more they’re around me the madder I get. I don’t even want to be here! I hate crowds and you pushed me right into the middle of this gathering without even consulting me. You just blew me right on over and got me all blustery. You don’t even care about me at all, do you? 

I just want to be fluffy and wet and left alone. Is that too much to ask? I don’t want to be a part of a storm. I don’t want to feel like I have to do things just because you decided to blow a certain way. Is it too much to ask for some autonomy in nature? 

Look, blow me away. I’m tired and call me crazy, but I don’t think they want to be around me either. It’s been a long hard day and all I want to do is float here and relax. I don’t like feeling that I’m being subjected to atmospheric pressures. 

Great. Now I’m raining. 

Kill The Children

Performed by AJ Paluzzi 

Excuse me. Hi! I was wondering if- No. Okay. Walk on by. It’s fine! I’m not upset! 

Hello there! How are you- I’m here to talk about- 

I just want a moment to-

Perfect…

Oh! Hello! How are you doing today? Thanks for stopping. No one stops anymore! No one! They just keep on walking. So you stopped and that’s great! Sorry, I’m just surprised someone actually stopped. 

Hello! I want to talk to you about kids. How many kids are out there do you think? There’s millions of them. Billions of them! All over the world there are so many kids. And we need your help. To get rid of them. 

Our charity wants to take all of those extra children, all of those millions and billions of children, and get rid of them. I mean where did they all come from? We don’t know! But we’re going to send them back there! Imagine how good you can feel knowing that you helped to take care of those children. I mean other charities take care of the children. We take care of the children. 

Think of how much money is being wasted everyday by keeping these children alive! Why even bother? I mean everyone dies! Why not them too? In fact, they get to die faster and better than you! Isn’t that nice? 

You want to help us kill the children? You can start today for the low low price of only $30/month! Don’t you want that knowledge of knowing that you’re doing God's work? I mean he’s killing millions of people everyday, why should he leave you out of the action? 

Question for you: How do you feel when  you’re out at a restaurant eating dinner, and across the table from you is an annoying child who is yelling and screaming and driving everyone around you crazy? The mother is strung out and at her wits end. The restaurant staff hates them and everyone around you wants this child to quietly and peacefully die. With your help we can make this happen. We can better the world for everyone by removing these stupid little nuisances and eradicating them with expert precision and careful implementation of cutting edge technologies like weapons, hammers and cement shoes. The best part is kids are light so we actually don’t need heavy cement blocks like full adults need. Just go to your average house, steal a few bricks, pop ‘em in a bag with the horrible little munchkin and toss it in a river. 

Why are you looking at me like that? We’re being frugal. Why weigh them down with more weight than you have to? I mean, sure we could switch to burlap sacks, but with all the plastic that’s ending up in the water systems lately, why wait? 

That’s not what you’re responding to? You’re saying that the entire charity is emotionally bankrupt and exceptionally repugnant? Lady- clearly you’ve never been walking down the street behind a parade of booger throwing, poopy-panted brats that move at a snails pace when you have places to be and people to do. 

I’m not wrong for starting this charity.  When the world is being swarmed by these little mutants you’ll be glad we’re out there doing the world a favour! 

Fine! Leave! See if I care. There’s someone out there who will support our work, and we’ll do it without you. Look! Here’s someone now!  

Hi! Want to sign my-? Okay, fuck you too. 

Glass Half Full 

Performed by Catherine D’Angelo

Okay. Now I have a question for you, Trevor. Why do we need three water pitchers? We don’t need one for serving, an infuser and a filtration system. We have water. It comes from the tap. There are dozens of people who check the water everyday so that we don’t have to. And I don’t know why you insist on always having all three of them completely full all the time. They can run out. 

We will have more water coming to us the next time we turn on the tap. You know how tedious it is to pour a glass of water for you? I pour the water from the pitcher, and then refill the pitcher with water from the diffuser. But then I need to refill the diffuser with the filtered water. And then I need to refill THAT with the dirty water from the tap, which is already clean because it comes from the tap! 

Some people say the glass is half empty. Some people say it’s half full. But if there is so much as ONE cup missing from any THREE of the goddamn water vessels, then all hell breaks loose and we’re suddenly stuck in a barren desert wasteland of a home because they may as well all be completely dry because they’re not all completely and totally full enough. 

And then to top it off, we have EIGHT wine bottles full of water at the bottom of the fridge, just in case there’s an emergency and we need eight bottles of wine full of water. You want to know what eight bottles of water is good for? Nothing. Unless you’re Jesus. Then you'd be fine. And all this emergency wine bottle water is preventing me from doing what’s really important. Like chilling the goddamn chardonnay. 

And then you use the filtered water for everything. You give the dog filtered water. You make our ice cubes out of filtered water. You brush your teeth using filtered water… If you could, you’d run our showers using filtered water. And guess what, it doesn’t even matter! Because it’s all coming from the same tap anyway! 

We’re not going to run out of water. 

You know what I do when you’re not here. I drink water from the tap because it’s easier than dealing with your bullshit water system. There are cities that don’t have as crazy a water standard as you do. And it’s- It’s just a lot. 

I know that you’re particular with these things. And I get it. It’s just a lot, okay? And I’m not used to it. I don’t know how someone can have so many steps to such a simple procedure. Glass. Tap. On. Done. You don’t need to complicate everything. If there’s one thing that should be easy, it should be water. 

Garden of Eden

Performed by Mark Pettit

The first thing to die was the peppers. They’d grown so well when she was tending to them and then- it was like they knew. The weather turned and even if I brought them in out of the cold at night it wasn’t enough. They died. All three pots full of peppers died. 

I was determined to keep something alive, but it was like nature was out to get me. 

Next was the tomatoes. A strong wind destroyed the trellis. I tried to get one of those cage things so that they’d survive, but it wasn’t enough. Once they were ripped from the support they seemed to give up as well. 

Then the raccoons came. They destroyed the zucchinis in a night. I didn’t even see them coming, but one night it was there and the next- the bastards tore them to shreds. They didn’t even eat it. The greedy fucks just wanted to mock me. That one hurt. That one felt more like an attack than anything else. I put traps out, but they still came back. How do you protect something so delicate once assholes come in and start ruining it for you? 

Now our herbs are dying. The basil is already gone. The rosemary that once grew big and strong is now just shriveling on the stem and turning yellow. Even our mint that  used to grow like wildfire is wilting. It’s all going. 

I just wanted to keep some small part of her alive. I wanted to be able to save something. I wanted to be able to take one of the few things she left me and make it big, and strong, and beautiful. 

But everyday, I see less of her and more of my own failures. My failures to help her. My failures to cure her. I can’t even keep a damn garden alive. How am I expected to be able to keep her memory alive? 

I know that in the grand scheme of things, it’s just a garden. It’s a small insignificant thing that only I would notice or care for. But it was her thing. It was the only thing she gave me when she- It was her garden. 

I opened the shed and found her gardening gloves. They smell like her, but barely. I forgot how she smelled. As this garden dies so does her memory. 

There’s so little of her left now. 

.

Go For World Peace 

Performed by Michael Buchanan 

I think the closest our society will ever come to achieving world peace is that one month when everyone was playing Pokemon Go. Everyone was outside. Walking. Their noses in their phones. Walking into traffic. Being nuisances. And laughing. 

There were herds of us. Our heads down scouring for Pikachu, Bulbasaur… Or … Drowzee… Stupid, stupid Drowzee. But we didn’t care if we caught 34 hundred of them. Because around every corner there might be something big, or beautiful, and rare. And it was at that time when I found something truly great. 

I met her in a herd of Mystic. I joked that I was following my Instinct. She laughed. It’s less funny now but at the time, it was a riot. 

We met at an Eevee nest in the middle of High Park. The park was swarming with us. We were a human infestation of jubilance. I asked her name and she responded, Eeveefanxoxo96. She was just my type- A fairy type. And me? I was just normal. But at least that meant we were compatible. At the very least- not opposed. 

I took her to all the hotspots. That place by the CN Tower where Lapras appeared. The Electabuzz that hung out by Allan Gardens. We even ran into a Porygon outside of Honest Eds. It was just sitting there on the sidewalk! The town was alive and we were on it! 

That was the happiest month of my life. Everyone was so excited to just be outside and spend time with each other. But it was better, because it was a game that combined nostalgia and minimal exercise. Which is the preferred amount of exercise when gaming. It was so new and exciting. There were people walking around offering strangers their chargers so that they could all catch together. You could approach strangers and ask what they were hunting and it wouldn’t be creepy.  

And there will never be anything else like that time again. Nothing that combines the excitement, the fun and nostalgia. Sure, others have tried to recreate it, but nothing as special as that time. 

We didn’t last long either. She was getting frustrated. Eventually we just ended up in fights and they didn’t even release battling until the end of the year. She’d use leer. I’d use growl. She kept saying I was getting too invested in the game. She wanted someone with more valour. And me? I just wanted to catch ‘em all.  

It’s just that life keeps going on. It never ends. I remember when I could name all 151 Pokemon. Now, how many are there even? Two thousand? 807? Too many. There’s too many. But there will never be another time when you could meet a girl and connect over something like this. It made it special. 

She broke my heart. It was super effective. 

Plaid is Bad 

Performed by Nicole Borthwick

Don’t think I don’t remember you. I remember you. I remember looking into your eyes as I held you in my arms for the first time and thinking that this was perfect. You were perfect. 

I remember how you smelled that day. A freshness that only the softest babies can smell like. And you were soft. And pink. And perfect. And ever so sweet. What happened? 

I remember thinking that nothing could be more perfect than you. You were everything I had asked for. Everything I had wanted since I was a little girl. I remember you used to reach out with your tiny little baby hands and squeeze my finger and then you’d laugh. You laughed for hours. You were such a giddy child once. 

And you used to dress so nicely. You wore clothes that were appropriate for your age. I remember dressing you in dresses and pants and shirts that actually covered your body. And now- well I can see so much more of you. And I get that you’re growing up, but we have standards, and you must abide by them. 

I’m not being cruel here. I’m being honest. I just want you to dress in a proper fashion. Is that too much to ask? 

Don’t give me that face. Don’t whine. Don’t complain. You still live in this house Missy, and when you live here you follow my rules. What did I do so wrong that you think I’ll let you out of this house in that ensemble? I raised you to be respectable. And I don’t care if you’re a woman or a man or whatever you want to be in between- You need to get upstairs and change right this goddamn instant. I never want to see you in such a hideous ensemble again.  

I did not raise my children to wear plaid. 

The Bond Girl

Performed by Sara Jackson

I’m thrilled. I’ve trained long and hard for this and I don’t need to walk you through my credentials. I promise to do MI6 proud. Now, what do you have for me? 

This? It’s a pen. But what is it really? Oh come on, you don’t have to tease me. We both know this isn’t just a pen. Okay, so I just need to click this and- No. Let me. I know how to click a pen. It’s not going to explode right? Okay, just checking. 

Okay! Here goes! And… 

Is that a tampon? Okay, sure. What does the tampon do? Do I need to click it or- 

What do you mean it’s just a tampon? Why do I need a tampon hidden in a pen? I can just use-

You know what? Thank you. It’s fine. It’s not my first choice for a spy gadget but you know what, sometimes you just need an extra. So thanks. For being so very considerate of my female biology. And making it so incredibly apparent. 

So, what’s next? Perfect. So it looks like a cigarette lighter. But when I flick it something happens? Excellent. Let me. Do I need to be careful? Okay. Here goes. 

Is that another tampon? Okay guys. Fine. I’ll let this one go. Just give me my gun. 

Okay, now that’s what I’m talking about. Hand it over. Where’s the ammo? 

So… You’re telling me that instead of bullets it shoots- Tampons. 

Stop. Look- I’m an agent. I know how to spy. I know how to fight. I know seven languages. I need weapons, not feminine hygiene products. Can you please give me a gun? A taser? A knife? 

No, not a butter knife. A real knife! 

My god… You know how this works right? I go in, and spy, and if I don’t have supplies I die. You can’t even come up with a creative use for tampons? Like maybe make it a grappling hook so that I can use the string to- You know how a tampon works don’t you? How much money did you spend on tampons in the first place? Is this where the budget went? 

What’s next? Maxi pad climbing pads? Explosive diva cups? An IUD that blasts open into a parachute?

Why are you taking notes? These are all terrible ideas! I’m a spy. I demand the same technological advancement as my male counterparts. 

Like this. This pair of glasses that... helps them see. Okay bad example. 

This watch. Does it fire a laser? Launch a poison dart? It dispenses condoms… Reusable condoms? That’s… No you can take this back. 

I just want something that will protect me and not just my genitals. I know that 45% of spying is genital related, but come on. That other 55% percent- there must be something for that. And no, a tampon delivering drone isn’t a good indicator of progress. 

Okay. Now you’re just messing with me. You’ve shown me dozens of tampons. What makes this one so special? A microchip you say? Do I insert it into my… No? It’s a fake tampon? I plug it into a USB drive and it will infect the system sending us back valuable information? And no men will go near it because it’s disguised as a tampon...

Better. It’s not perfect but you’re on the right track. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some bad guys to kill.

His Wedding 

Performed by Kody Poisson

Weddings are supposed to be happy. They’re supposed to be momentous occasions in your life when everything comes together. It’s supposed to be a day when the people you care about most gather around you to love, honour and bless you. 

It shouldn’t be the day you regret the most. 

I should have been honest from the start. That it wasn’t what I wanted. That by doing the thing I was expected to do, I was giving up on the only thing I had ever wanted. 

I remember standing there at the altar- the smell of lilies thick in the air- and looking down into her eyes. Her beautiful, perfect, innocent eyes- and wishing they were his. 

Sure, I loved her. She was beautiful. She was everything I’d ever wanted. On paper. But him… He was something else entirely. 

He felt the same way. If he didn’t, why did he encourage me? Why did we make time for each other? Why did I find myself falling for him?

I’m not sure why I proposed. I guess it was me desperately trying to reassure myself that I could do it. I could be happy with her. I could be the perfect husband. But in the back of my mind, I kept hoping he would burst in and save me from the horrible mistake I was making. 

I guess it’s cheesy to hope that a white knight would come and whisk you away, especially when you’re a knight yourself. I guess in the end, she was just a victim of the circumstances. A woman who should have been loved and cared for- was being used as bait.  

The minister asked if anyone would object- and I should have heard his voice cut through the crowds with a thunderous roar. He should have saved us. He should have saved me. 

It’s selfish really. I wanted him to save me- but I had obligations, expectations- and a woman who loved me. Maybe if she loved me hard enough, it would be enough. But it wasn’t. I should have called it off before I said those two words- but I didn’t. I didn’t have the heart to break her heart. 

By not saying the things I needed to say, I hurt all of us. By going for the good, I lost out on the great. 

I can still see us in my mind's eye. I close my eyes and he’s in the driver's seat taking us through the grand canyon, to Maricopa Point. It’s foolish to think these things so long after the choice was made- but I know I made the wrong choice. And I can’t go back. 

He stopped talking to me a week after the wedding. I don’t blame him. I’d probably do the same thing if I had been in his shoes.

A Business of Ferrets 

Performed by Nicole D’Amato

I’m just trying not to throw you through the window right now. Okay? So please give me a moment to process all of this. 

Okay. So… Please explain to me how the ferret ended up in your pants. Sorry. Ferrets. I was only aware of there being one. No, I don’t think more is better Jeremy. Because I’m not sure how you came to the conclusion that taping ferrets to your body was a good idea in the first place. 

First off, what did you think would happen when you tried to smuggle a wild animal underneath your clothes? And of all animals, why did you feel like a ferret was the appropriate animal to smuggle across the border? Sorry- Ferrets. They smell bad Jeremy. They always have. And when you- duct tape- these creatures to your body, did you not expect them to struggle? And as they were struggling did you not think that there would be some very peculiar questions that the authorities would be asking you regarding the fact that your smelly clothes seem to be moving and screaming for mercy. 

Now I understand that you medicated them so that they’d be asleep for the transit. But you are not a pharmacist or a vet, so I’m not sure how you expected them to stay asleep. Especially when the medication was Gin. I’m not sure how to best explain this, but Gin is not a medication. You just got them drunk. 

Also why did you think the best way to smuggle them across the border would be on a bus? Not even a Greyhound. A discount bus. 

In what way did you think this wouldn’t be suspicious? I don’t care what Connor said. I don’t care if he assured you it was an idea that only an idiot would miss out on. Guess what Jeremy? He found an idiot. 

And guess what? I am angry, Jeremy. I am disappointed, Jeremy. I don’t know why you invested- Wait. Do I want to know how much of your money you invested into this stupid get rich quick scheme? You know what- don’t tell me. It’s better if I don’t know. 

I’m still not even sure on what you two were trying to accomplish. It’s just a ferret. It’s not like they’re endangered. And I can’t imagine that the ferret demand in America would be so astronomically high that they would even be remotely interested in bringing along such a conglomeration of furry friends in such a stupid and unusual way. Okay, fine, a business of funky smelling furry fiends. You’re lucky PETA isn’t here castrating you. And you’re lucky your little friends didn’t either. 

I want to ask what you were thinking, but frankly I’m not even sure that knowing what or why would offer me any kind of closure. Now grab what’s left of your pants and go to your parents house. 

I’m taking the ferret. FINE. FERRETS. 

The Last Goodbye 

Performed by Andy Wang

This place is thick with memories. I haven’t been here in years and yet I know these streets, and this town, and these buildings so deep in my bones that my entire being bathes in the gentle comfort of its familiarity. There is so much that has changed, but in this town, nothing truly changes. It’s still the same old place, with the same old people with the same old drama that there has always been and will always be. 

There’s something comforting about knowing that this place never changes. You can come back a decade, two decades later, and it will still be frozen in time. Just like you left it. 

But nothing ever remains completely untouched by time’s cruel hands. You can try to pretend like everything is the same, but just because the streets are still there, and the buildings remain, doesn’t mean it’s the same. 

My friends are all gone. The countless memories I made with them have scattered to the edges of my mind and vanished without a trace. I can go to the school where we went but our spirits don’t echo the halls like they used to. The small touches we made to keep our names alive have faded or been painted over or washed away completely. The few faces I do recognize don’t recognize me. I’m a stranger here. And even though I called this place a home, I can’t call it mine anymore. My life is somewhere else, and the deep roots that I thought held me here are dug up and burnt. 

I know these streets better than anything else in the world. Every single one of them holds a memory of a time, or a place, or a person. But now- they’re just streets. 

You never know how much a place can mean to you until it’s gone, and sometimes these little erosions happen so gradually you don’t even realize how badly it’s deteriorated until you go back. I know this place. But I don’t. 

I wish I was here under a happier circumstance. Saying goodbye to one person is hard enough, but I know that once I leave this city there is a good chance I won’t be coming back again. This is my last goodbye. And I’m not just saying goodbye to them, I’m saying goodbye to an entire world. And time. And person. I’m saying goodbye to the last remnants of my childhood. I’m saying goodbye to the millions of memories I made here. 

Maybe that’s the thing that’s most upsetting. The thought that this place has carried on without me. I just wanted a space to come home to but home isn’t here anymore. And the more I think about it, maybe it never truly was here in the first place. 

Comic Signs 

Performed by Cassandra Wattsham 

You might not know this about me, but I’m a huge geek. Huge. Like a super big huge geek. 

I used to do math problems for fun. I used to stay up all night and read comics under the covers until my parents would come in and check on me and I’d have shove my skinny body on top of the flashlight so they wouldn’t see the light. 

It’s not that I was bullied so much- in that way I guess I was pretty lucky. It was that I was excluded. I had friends, but no close friends. They were people I went to school with, and got along with, but no one I was tight with. 

Maybe that’s why I was so close with my dad. Every year we would go to the comic con. He even let me dress up once we got older. It was amazing. It was magic. Geeks like me everywhere. It was a place I could be myself. So we went back. Every year. And it became our time. The time that we got to spend together where it was just us. 

As the years went on,I became closer to other people. I met other kids like me. Gifted we were called. There was a whole program for us. They’d take us out of school for a week at a time to learn about viruses, or computer programming, or Greek mythology. The group of smart kids from all the schools would be sent to these little classes to learn more about random topics. 

It all came to a head when we went to class, about comic books of all things. There’s a lot of good knowledge to be found in comics. There’s the archetypal storytelling full of stock characters and subverted expectations. Remember the death of Superman? That comic rocked my world. The titan has fallen! I remember reading that book over and over until the cover was hanging on by a thread. I would talk to my dad about it for hours on end. I cried so hard the first time I read it. And the second. And every subsequent time. He never judged me. He just kept encouraging me. 

And so we go to this comic book module. And we learn about the art and the stories, and all that stuff. And then we realize that we all would be making our own comic. We were to write about a hero that would save the world. Because the hero always saves the day. 

I was so excited to write it. I knew exactly what I would write. I wrote about dad man, the protector of the needy. Everyone else wrote about their own knockoffs: Cow man and Spiderboy, but mine was truly original. 

They didn’t get it. Some made fun of me, but who cares about them. The people who ran thr program thought it was awesome. And it was. Because it reflected something truly unique and special.  I remember giving it to my dad and reading it for him. He cried. May have been the only time I saw him cry. 

He really is my hero. He’s the one who believed in me most- And despite the new friends, and the conventions, and my place in it- he’ll always be the one who first saw my potential and took me to the place where I could shine. 

He really is my hero. 

A Good Person

Performed by Courtney Keir

There’s a lot I can forgive. 

When you lost your job, I was there for you. You were decimated and I was one of the people holding you together. You leaned on me so hard and I had never seen you so fragile. So helpless. And I helped you. I watched as you built yourself back up, and I told you I’d always be here for you when we needed. And then, when you got sick, I was there for you. And when they broke your heart? And called you those awful names, I was there for you. I’ve always been the one who was here for you, and I thought I always would be. 

That’s what friends do right? And we’ve been so much more than friends. You were the first person I ever loved. You were the first person I lived with. You were the first person to break my heart, and despite all of that, we had one of the best friendships I’d ever had after. 

And then you changed. I thought that we were solid. I wanted you to be in my wedding party. And you blew me off to go and party in Cali. Because they bought you a ticket and you didn’t want to say no. 

You missed one of the most important nights of my life because you wanted to go. 

And guess what? Now they’re gone and in our past, and you come back to me to ask for support. 

And once again, I gave it to you. I forgave you, and all I wanted in return was a friendship. All I wanted was for you to reach out, and talk to me, or go for coffee, or invite me to one of your dinner parties. 

Now when we talk, you brag about your new job. How much you’re making. How well you’re doing- And I’m happy for you- I am. But you never ask me anything. You never make time for me. Or what I’m doing. Or what I’m trying to build. You don’t even ask about the dog. 

And your defense is that, “you’re just not a good person?” 

I defended you. For years. From my parents. From my friends. I defended you saying that you’re not awful. You’re misunderstood. You’re not selfish, you’re just confused. 

Maybe I turned a blind eye. Because we’ve been through the worst of times together and come out the other side. And I thought that was forever. 

You’re like a (brother/sister) to me. You’re my family. And I never thought that you were a selfish person. But I guess, that now I just have to take you at your word. 

Maybe you’re just not a good person. But I really wanted you to be better than that. 

Every Six Months

Performed by Emily Nixon

He strode into the room. His body smelled so clean. Everything about this place smelled so clean. So pure. So fresh. 

He didn’t say much. He made some small talk before he told me to lay back and get comfortable. I did as I prepared myself for what he was about to do. 

He grabbed his tool. It was big. I don’t remember it being so big, but here he was. It took my breath away. I gasped so loudly when he came close. He smiled at me, to try to put me at ease I guess. He leaned over me and inserted into my mouth. A tool so big and sturdy. Beautifully constructed. I had to stretch my mouth wide to get it all in. 

He was firm but gentle. Remarkably gentle for someone of his experience. I just laid back and tried to relax. I was determined to enjoy myself as much as possible. 

It didn’t take long. If nothing else, he was efficient. I could feel my mouth flooding and before long I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to spit. He retracted and I spit it all out. He smiled and told me it was okay. He could get someone else to help me finish it off and left. 

Then she entered. She was remarkable. While he was strong and quick, she was gentle and thorough. I did as was expected and let her explore every bump, every corner of my mouth. She was remarkable. Nothing was off limits to her as she brushed and played with my tongue in ways that made me tingle all over. The feeling was so unexpected. 

She didn’t stop there either. She went deep. She prodded the deep cavern with her fingers and flossed her hands through everything she came across. Her hands practically danced around inside of me. It was everything I had wanted to come from this appointment, and so, so much more. 

When she had almost brought me to completion, he came back in. He smiled his beautiful smile and marveled as she finished me off. When she was done she finally removed her nimble fingers and smiled at me, joining by his side with a big smile on her face. She stood beside him and whispered something in his ear with a mischievous smile on her face. He grinned his own perfect smile and came to my side. 

With a sultry voice he cooed, “I’m glad you’re flossing more. Looking forward to seeing you again in six months.” 

The Party Guest

Performed by Megan Mac

I really don’t know why I came out tonight. I’m not a good party person. I always forget that until I’m here. But here I am and once again I feel like no one here wants to talk to me. 

I know that people like me. Or at least, they tolerate me. I mean, I hope they like me. I know we all have that voice in the back of our heads that’s like, ‘blah! You’re terrible and no one likes you” but I know it’s stupid- I still feel like people legitimately think that way about me. 

I mean, if they didn’t like me they wouldn’t invite me right? Right? 

It’s just so crowded out here. You’ve got the right idea. Hiding out in here was a good call. I hope you don’t mind that I followed you. You seem friendly. That’s nice. 

I mean, I should be excited to be here, right? I mean, they invited me, they must like me at least enough to bring me here. They must like me enough to want to spend time with me… But they haven’t really talked to me and I don’t know anyone else and- Sorry. I tend to babble sometimes. I’m glad that you don’t seem to mind. 

You’re very pretty. I had a cat like you once. She was fat though. Huge. We fed her so much food she practically waddled everywhere. But you- You’re like the perfect cat size. You’re adorable. 

I miss having a cat. I didn’t want to be one of “those girls”. But you’re pretty. And friendly. 

I should be out there. I mean, why even come to a party if you’re just going to hang out in the bedroom with the cat? At least you’re having a good time. 

If you’re okay with this, I think I’ll stick with you for a few minutes. I’ve got all night with them. I’ve only got a few minutes with you. 

You’re a very lovely cat. Thanks for being such a good listener.