John Keats 02 Paper Moon

by Dennis Liggio

  After a shower and some breakfast, I felt more like myself, not some trauma victim, not someone who had spent the night being attacked by a black presence from beyond our world. Hot showers are amazing things. My stomach was still unsettled, so I skipped on coffee, but I was able to keep my breakfast down. My throat was still sore.

  Then I decided to show up at my fake job. I hadn't worked something 9-to-5ish in many years, even getting past the fact that these days 9-5 jobs are actually 9-6 or 8-5. I was running a little late, so I worried a little. It had been a long time since somebody bitched me out for being five minutes late to work.

  Unfortunately, there was nobody to bitch me out. Neither Ben nor Terry were there yet; the Grips Lair was empty as when I had left the day before. Terry showed up ten minutes after me with donuts, while Ben showed up ten minutes after that with coffee and a pair of sunglasses he reluctantly took off. But even once they arrived, they didn't start working. First, they went outside and smoked (I declined their offer). Ten minutes later they were back inside, sitting on their stools, staring into space, and vaguely taking bites out of the donuts.

  I sat waiting for someone else in the studio to come and request work. Or maybe just for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to explain what we were doing. Unfortunately, I was not even able to get any good info out of them. Their minds were elsewhere, their mouths saying whatever came to their consciousness without any worry about digression.

  "Whoa," said Ben suddenly.

  "What?" said Terry.

  "You know how, like, when you have someone on a film, they have like, a stunt double?"

  "Yeah," said Terry.

  "If the actor is a midget, do they just have stunt singles?"

  "Whoa," said Terry.

  They lapsed into silence for a few more minutes.

  "Don't we have, I dunno, maybe some work to do today?" I prompted. As much as I wanted to get some new leads, if I started wandering the building aimlessly, someone would notice. I had to at least learn this job and its duties to know how I could use it to cover up my snooping. There had to be some clue to Nick's disappearing at this studio.

  "Nah, man, it's awesome," said Ben. "We don't actually have to do shit until then 10am daily rehearsal. It's great."

  I looked over to the clock on the wall that said 10:05.

  "Umm," I said. Ben and Terry followed my gaze to the clock, but it still took them a moment to react.

  Then they suddenly jumped, nearly falling off of their stools. "Oh crap!" said Ben.

  I watched as they grabbed their tool belts and rolls of tape in frantic panic. Then they half jogged out the door, their donuts still held firmly in their mouths. I sighed and reluctantly followed, my own hands empty.

  We went through a badge locked door into a large room I had passed through the day before. This was the actual set, and unlike yesterday, it was no longer covered with dark drapes, allowing me to see the real appearance of the show. An almost ridiculously generic pastoral background sat behind numerous tiers of plywood bushes and foreground scenery which would mask the puppeteer's bodies. In front of that was an even wider space with cameras, sound equipment, and almost all of the studio's employees. They all looked annoyed and disappointed, but not at all surprised to see us coming in late.

  Ben yanked the donut from his mouth, then assumed a casual pose. "Relax, relax, we're here."

  Adele and Deb both glared with slightly different expressions. Almost everyone else frowned and went back to what they were doing. Ben began checking the cameras, while Terry grabbed me and walked me through putting taped markers on the floor and raised set. It actually didn't take long, but he used it as an excuse for us to crouch around the floor whispering, which was an ideal cover, because we were completely ignored while we were crouched on the floor with tape. I realized that if you had a roll of tape and crouched, you were invisible on any sort of film or television set.

  I happened to look up and noticed that while people were standing around and working on things, nobody was performing.

  "I thought it was a 10am rehearsal," I whispered to Terry.

  "The rehearsal is at 10:30, but we're supposed to have our stuff done by 10:15 so they are ready at 10:30. We have to start at 10 at the latest."

  I nodded. We kept doing our taping, which admittedly made little sense to me, until just before rehearsal time. Then Ben said we were done and we scampered off the set. I expected us to be exiled from the room either because we were done or because we were late, but that didn't happen. Instead, we were allowed to stand in the back, ready for problems, but otherwise just watching as the performers rehearsed the pilot episode.

  Hornswaggle & Friends was anything that you haven't seen before. If you've seen Barney, HR Pufnstuf, Teletubbies, or hell, even Jolly Farm, you've seen it before. Strange multicolored puppets talking in weirdly accentuated voices with exaggerated movements, sometimes breaking out into song, and overall creating a plot that isn't too complicated or offensive to children whereby some very basic social lesson is learned.

  Even if you didn't know from the title, it was pretty obvious that Hornswaggle was the main character. He was nearly twice the size of any other puppet and the story revolved around him, each other character mostly defined by their relationship with Hornswaggle. Unlike the high or mid range voices of the other characters, Hornswaggle had the only deep voice of the bunch, a sly yet glib voice that seemed to echo out of his big teeth and almost always ending in a grin.

  The story of the pilot was that Higgilty Piggilty was coming to Big Blue Sky Valley as a new resident. At first, the current residents, such as Oily Doily, are not sure about Higgilty Piggilty. They think that she is too different and shun her. I'm not sure how they decided she was different, as an anthropomorphic pig with a flowery Victorian-era hat was really not that different than a talking pot leaf (Oily Doily), a Rasta horse man (Hornswaggle), or a well-dressed spider in a top hat (Victor Victorious). If anything, Victor Victorious should have welcomed Higgilty Piggilty's high class dress, but instead he popped his monocle from one of his eight eyes at the first sight of her (the other six monocles stayed. The last eye had no monocle). In the end, it was Hornswaggle who had a feeling that their shunning was not quite right, as she might be different (still not sure how), but everyone is really the same on the inside (where the puppeteer's hand is). Since Hornswaggle was the main character of the show, once he realized something and tried to convince others, they fell like dominoes, being convinced like good Stockholm Syndrome puppets. Higgilty Piggilty was finally accepted and considered a resident of Big Blue Sky Valley. I'm sure that in future episodes, they would never once mention this event again.

  And there you have children's television at its "finest". At the end, the director shouted "Freeze frame!" and then a few seconds later, "Roll Credits!" They weren't actually recording, but rehearsal needed to still go over the cues. And then rehearsal was clearly over. Everybody in the room clapped - except Ben and Terry, but I decided to be polite and clap for them. Despite the show being rather generic, a lot of work had gone into making it this generic. At least the puppets were cool, that deserved some applause. Maybe it was actually really great for the kid audience and would be amazing on PBS. I admit I had no idea what was the best in children's programming - I had grown up on Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, and the Electric Company, so my view of this sort of thing was extremely outdated.

  After the applause, Adele, who was actually smiling, said, "Back to work everyone," and made her exit. That was the true signal that things were finished. Many others then left, but some stayed, talking to the performers. Deb left, and next to leave were Ben and Terry. I asked if there was work, they simply shrugged.

  "Fuck no!" said Ben.

  "I'm going to hang here then," I said. "I'll catch up."

  Ben turned to Terry. "Smoke break?"

  "Absolutely!" said Terry. Then they left.

  When I looked around, I noticed Meredith had stayed to share in the good feeling a
fter a successful rehearsal. As I paused to watch, I began to realize why Meredith was so useful, even though Deb clearly didn't like her and Adele seemed to have a neutral opinion. Meredith worked well with the puppet team, the ones who actually operated and performed. They loved her and almost full-on hated Deb. So Meredith was a needed go-between that couldn't be easily fired. Rather than interact with performers who hated her, Deb could tell Meredith to convey instructions to the performers. That way Meredith would deal with delivery of both good and bad news, sparing Deb the resistance of the performers when she told them anything face-to-face.

  The successful rehearsal put the performers on a real high. They were goofing around and making jokes. There was some gentle ribbing, but also some risqué humor.

  "I gotta get me a piece of dat ass," said Hornswaggle, his puppet face leaning forward to peer at the back of Meredith's skirt where she had been leaning forward, reaching over plywood shrubs to grab something for the puppeteer I remembered as Susan.

  Meredith swiveled around in mock surprise them smiled. "Rhys, stop joking around!"

  Rhys, the main puppeteer who controlled Hornswaggle's mouth flaps and did his voice, clutched his hand to his chest in his own mock surprise. "Me? I didn't say anything. It was Hornswaggle!" His normal voice was similar to Hornswaggle's, but not as deep, not as accented, not as fake. Rhys had dark curly hair and a Mediterranean cast to his features. Older than college, but still not in his thirties yet.

  "Yes, it was me! I'm just looking to get some!" said the Hornswaggle puppet in his deep voice before launching into a muppet pantomime of laughter, mouth open, head rocking back and forth silently. I'm guessing sexual harassment didn't apply if you were a puppet.

  I did sense this was a possible conversation entrance. "Pickup lines seem a whole lot stranger coming from him," I said.

  Eyes turned on me, sizing me up. They must have known about the new grip, but I doubt they had heard much else about me. Rhys cocked his head, a measuring glance on his face, but a moment later he smiled. "Hornswaggle is still practicing. He's still rather awkward. I'm sure once he loses his virginity he'll be way more suave. That is, if Meredith ever gives him a chance."

  "Sorry, guys, I just don't swing puppet," said Meredith with a smile.

  "Once you go felt you never go... uh..." Rhys twisted his mouth in thought, looking for a good rhyme to base on the familiar joke proverb.

  "You never go back," said Susan, typically shy but trying to get into the conversation with a failed joke.

  "Why Susan, I had no idea!" said Rhys with mocking indignation.

  Susan went bright red, but then everyone started laughing. She eventually paled again.

  "Dating skills aside, I'm really impressed with what you all have created here," I said, looking up at Hornswaggle.

  Rhys followed my glance to the puppet and then smiled. "Oh yeah, we're very proud of our little boy here. We've put a ton of work into this show. You almost don't see all the blood and sweat that went into this guy."

  "And lots of goofing off," said Meredith.

  "Well, yeah! Of course there was some of that!" said Rhys. "Man, there were some nights we went out to the bar when Nick was still working on dialog..." His voice trailed off, and his expression fell. It was pensive, sad.

  Nobody picked up that thread of conversation. The good feeling of the group immediately died, something you could feel as shoulders tensed. Two of those in our joking crowd excused themselves and left the room. Everyone still in the room held a sad or pensive face as the silence stretched on.

  I knew it was the subject of Nick that did it, but I played dumb. I looked to either side of me. "What was that about?" I quickly met Meredith's gaze to let her know not to answer.

  Rhys scratched his neck somewhat nervously. His voice dropped in volume. "Nick was the guy who created Hornswaggle and most of the puppets. But he doesn't work here anymore."

  "Did he get fired?" I said.

  "No, he quit," said Rhys. "I guess."

  "You guess?" I prompted.

  "Oh, it's all drama, really," he said with a tired sigh and started picking lint off Hornswaggle.

  "Drama?" I said. I really was hoping to get a better lead than that.

  "You're rather curious for a grip," said Susan, who fixed me with a strange stare.

  "Are grips not supposed to be curious?" I said, shrugging and trying to smile disarmingly. "Didn't know I shouldn't be. Just saw this cool puppet and wondered why the guy who made it isn't around."

  "People around here don't really like discussing it," said Rhys. "As you can see." He twirled his finger around. I turned around to see that the four of us were the only ones left in the room. The others hadn't even bothered to say anything as they left.

  "He's new, he doesn't know," said Meredith.

  "True, though word of advice, new guy," said Rhys. "People here really don't like talking about Nick. You don't want to lose all your friends before you get any."

  I sighed. "Message received."

  Rhys walked off, looking glum and defeated. Meredith struck up a conversation with Susan, and they walked off, though Susan was still looking at me oddly. I headed back to the Grips Lair. Reconnaissance failed, it seemed. I knew nothing more, just that Nick's disappearance was a bigger can of worms around the studio than I realized.

  Five

  The day went quickly. Ben and Terry babbled on incessantly, managing to get absolutely no work done. The few scraps of work that showed up was handed off to me, as it was "educational". I realized that Adele and the studio didn't want another grip because there was actually enough work for three, they wanted another grip because the other two were lazy. I didn't know for sure, but I'm guessing there might be some union reason for not being able to fire them. Or Ben had incriminating photos. I had no idea.

  Midway through the day I checked in with Sally. Our inbox was quiet. There was one query about possible work, but it was another cheating spouse and the prospective client wasn't even sure they wanted to move forward with it. They just wanted to come and talk about it. I told Sally to push that off. It wasn't enough reason to interrupt my fake job and search for Nick. This new client might get cold feet and never call back or even fail to meet me. It had happened before and would happen again.

  Like the day before, Ben and Terry left early, citing a lack of work. Twenty minutes later, Deb wandered into the room with an assignment. She saw only me and quickly learned the other grips had left. Instead of having me try to figure the assignment out, she simply shook her head and left, leaving it for tomorrow. I tried a few times to head toward the Creature Room, but each time I saw Deb or Adele in the halls and knew I wouldn't be getting to it without being seen.

  I used the remaining time in the day to try to brainstorm for leads. There was the Creature Room, but I couldn't get in there easily and it seemed a dead lead. There was a chill of silence over all the employees when it came to talking about Nick. Did that mean there was something worthwhile to learn, or was it some sort of respect for the fallen? Where the fuck was Nick? If I tracked him to Vegas where he was doing blow off a hooker's back in top floor penthouse running up his debt, I was going to be really damn annoyed.

  I'm ashamed to say I didn't find a break in the case. The break found me.

  When I left for the day, despondent and dejected at the time I was wasting on the fake job, I found a note on my car. It was a simple sheet of white paper, probably from a printer. It was folded and stuffed under my windshield wiper, masquerading as a flyer for a shitty restaurant or a new car wash place. As I unfolded it, I was surprised it wasn't advertising anything at all. Handwritten in block caps, its message was simple. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT NICK, COME TO THE SET AT 9PM TONIGHT. COME ALONE.

  I paused and looked around the parking lot, in case someone was watching me. A few cars drove past along the street on their way to the interstate, but the lot was almost empty. I saw one studio employee I hadn't met walking to his car, but I doubted he even n
oticed me. He was talking on the phone and not looking in my direction. I hadn't noticed anyone else in the studio when I left. I knew Meredith was having dinner with her father. If someone was watching me, they were doing so from a hiding place.

  I looked back at the note. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but let's be honest, in this day and age, how many different handwritings do we actually recognize? Nobody writes things. They just type them or tap them into their phones, making amusing autocorrect mistakes. And even if I were a master of handwriting recognition, I had just met a dozen new people and none had written anything down in my presence. So of course this handwriting was unrecognizable. How had they known my car? They could have watched me drive in, but I'm guessing they knew it because it was the only unfamiliar one in the lot.

  This was unexpected, but not unwelcome. I just hadn't thought I'd find my next lead stuffed under my windshield wiper. I'd take it, but of course I was suspicious. I'm not used to a break in a case being handed to me anonymously and of course, I wondered about all the cloak and dagger. Why the Deep Throat impression? Why did they want to get me alone? Was it for their safety or to make me vulnerable?

  The note left me with more questions than answers. I was exhilarated that something was happening, but I suddenly felt more vulnerable. I was on somebody's radar, and not just as the new guy at work. Of course I'd be showing up at the appointed time; that wasn't in question. But what would I do once I got there? That was the real issue. I crushed the note into my pocket, got into my car, and headed home.

  I lived in a moderately priced but quiet apartment complex in North Austin. Despite the money from the Vanders Incident, I hadn't moved. After years of dealing with questionable apartment complexes and their shady managers, I realized that I actually liked where I lived for the most part and decided that I wouldn't mess with a good thing. I also hadn't wanted to deal with the stress of buying a house. I lived alone with my cat and was not home as much as I wanted to be - why would I buy an expensive house to never be there? It would be an empty house echoing with annoyed meows about an empty food bowl.