Killing For Democracy

Gilded Lily (sped up) by Cults plays.

The song plays.

Louis worries Lacey can’t trust Lem. Lem insists he can father her children and not lose Lacey.

They’re both astronomical men. A Putin worries for her kids.

“Her father was a terrifying man.” says a dead Jew. He smiles. “He was…very courageous. So was I. …We were complicated men, as far as humans go.” He smiles and laughs. “I was his rival. You can look it up! It’s all online.” Then he cries. “But it bothers me to see Lacey suffer. I knew kids matter.”

The song plays.

The song plays.

(Adult content below)

“And Lem that’s why she slept with me. Because I made sense. …Lem…you don’t kiss and make-up with Jack. You chop off his head. Or she stops…finding you pretty?” says Louis looking at Lem with suspicion.

Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeah plays.

“Off, off, off with your head.” says Lacey calmly to Lem. “Isn’t FUCKING…funny? …Fun? …Funny fun?”

Lacey thinks.

“My father killed people you worms.” says Lacey peacefully. She’s merely explaining kindly. As noblesse oblige.

“She’s right. My father did too.” says Queen Elizabeth II.

“Aren’t they nice to explain that to America?” asks Kid Cann. “But do you even understand what she’s saying now? Or is she a bunny boiler to you?” He thinks. “You might have sensed her rage and ferocious vibe. But…she’s also a genuine lady. Old money. Very proper. And-“. He gets upset. “Not at all a slut. And…that’s just her personality. She’s not disordered. She’s not always angry. Matter-of-fact she’s rarely angry.” He laughs mirthfully. “She’s…deep. And difficult to comprehend for a Millennial cool-kid.”

“She’s not always simmering?” asks a Millennial cool-kid.

“No!!” says Lem. “I was.”

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths plays. It’s a joke about the English from the Irish. They wonder…

“Are the British, including the Welsh and Scottish…always simmering?” asks a dead Irishman who was ordinary. He scoffs at the American cool-kids.

“So you’re not angry!? But you’re so intense and serious? But also so genuinely sexy!” says Christopher Plummer to Lacey. He rolls his eyes. “Or is that you’re not happy enough so that pisses female cool-kids off?”

“Why worms?” asks a female Millennial cool-kid of Lacey.

“Because it’s the typical word used. And perhaps it’s not a perfect word but…it works.” says Lacey. “To get the point across.” She thinks. “Sorry if it’s too harsh or not harsh enough.”

“But you were simmering?” someone asks Lem.

“Yes!” he says.

“Did we know that?” asks a Millennial cool-kid.

“If I’m Lem…I almost let those kids shoot-up heroin and cocaine…and other deadly drugs right in front of me. Cold as ice.” He sighs and smiles. “And people still think I was a loving, dotting, homosexual-poor-guy.” He thinks. “I let those kids use deadly drugs. And I wasn’t an idiot. I didn’t necessarily care if Bobby Jr. killed himself. Actually…did I want him to?” He thinks. “Did I give genuine shits if he died?”

Flower (B-Sides) by Moby plays.

“What if…I thought he

“What if I thought Bobby Jr. was a sociopath like Jack? And I hoped he’d overdose for the sake of his eternal soul?” asks Lem. “What if I loved and hated that entire family?”

“But you didn’t know drugs were bad! And you didn’t know drugs would kill you! And you…you…were sad? So you…thought it was socially acceptable to…get high? And the emotional sexual intimacy of that experience was lost on you. And if it wasn’t…you either didn’t give two fucks about those kids…or you actually were a pedophile.” says a Boomer slowly processing reality. He thinks. “Yeah. You were likely either not just gay but a pervert or you might have HATED those kids at times.”

Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey plays.

“I wasn’t a pedophile.” says Lem. “There was no sexual tension between me and Bobby Jr..”

“Are you sure?” asks Lacey. “Not that you could be in true sexual entanglement with a child anyway. A deranged entanglement where the child is being abused, sure. But not some impossible one, hence it’s impossible.”

“Mr. Blue I think you superimposed Lacey Banks’s body on Katherine Heigl.” says an actor. “Or like…a Britney Spears, Katherine Heigl, Mandy Moore hybred. Like…you had an affair with an imaginary Millennial woman who you imagined looks similar to Lacey.”

“Are you hurt?” asks his wife.

“Yes!” says Lacey. “Because it just opens old wounds. I’m glad to be done with him. At least, I hope I’m done with him. …But it just reminds me of how I once was hurt. Actually hurt many times.”

“Lacey?” asks Mrs. Blue.

“Mm?” asks Lacey.

“Lem? Were you a pedophile?” asks Mrs. Blue. Then she teases Lacey for being a nerd. Because she wonders if that really is Lacey’s actual pain. She’s like a hot, rich guy with thick glasses…without the glasses. So no. She’s not Katherine Heigl. She’s…just…bookish.

“Yeah! Even if she’d been born in 1918 she’d possibly be what Americans call bookish.” says Lem. He smiles angrily. “No! I wasn’t a pedophile.”

“She’s not going to believe you, unless I intervene to confirm that.” says God to Lem about Lacey.

“Okay! But she is sexually intimidating. Actually Lem would have been too if he’d been healthy.” says Jack Kennedy. “For all you guys know I enjoyed playing into Lem’s delusion that he was gay because it amused me to watch him make a fool of himself for sadistic reasons on my part.”

“So you may have slightly tried to dissuade Lem or you full on went into full on sexual predator mode with Lem?” asks a Liberal journalist of JFK.

All That Glitters by Earl plays.

“I was a predator. I didn’t necessarily really try to genuinely to dissuade him.” says JFK. “It might have been an initial step towards the end goal of controlling his reasoning ability. The part of his mind that would have enabled him to be able to figure out what he wanted for himself and leave my predatory auspices if he wanted to.”

“And then you just kept him under your control until he died?” asks a Putin of JFK.

“Yes! Lem may have felt imposed upon and unable to say no to taking care of the kids. And…Bobby may have been such a menace…to my son who he may have felt some genuine affection for just as an individual kid…that Lem secretly was less than protective of Bobby.” says JFK. “No! He may have loved my son as Jackie’s son.” He thinks. “And have cared about Bobby Jr. as a person…but…if I raped Lem…then maybe…he thought he really was a an evil criminal personality too, like me.”

“Umm…why are we told he wept bitterly over you?” asks Lord Thirsten Snotgrass of JFK.

“That was started by a woman who had a political perspective to push.” says JFK. “A woman who had a political end to advocate for personally interpreted the situation. She started that interpretation of Lem and it took off as fact and not just her opinion.” He thinks. “Lots of Liberals who barely knew or understood Lem and who had and may have loyalty to me and my family interpret and interpreted Lem like they’re speaking on behalf of God with His objective view of everything and His authority too.”

“So he didn’t weep over you?” asks Lord Thirsten Snotgrass.

“No! He was…messed-up.” He sighs. “He probably did cry. …But…it’s unclear why. He might have been glad I was dead and hated himself for it for all I know.” He thinks. “Or maybe I did know. And I made demons attack him and God couldn’t stop me because Lacey was being harmed. Or he’d sided with me too much and committed sodomy.”

Jump Around by House of Pain plays.

“Is Lem mean?” Wobbly asks Lacey.

“Am I?” asks Lacey.

“No!” he yells bitterly.

Lacey takes a deep breath. “Yes! He can be VERY mean.” She thinks.

The Way I Am by Eminem plays.

“I’m not as mean as Lem. But I’m not necessarily as nice as Michael.” says an Marshmallow Man. “Should this be…accurate.”

“Did Jack see his mean side the way you do?” a Wobbly asks Lacey.

“No.” says JFK.

“Why not?” asks Mrs. Blue.

“I thought he was proper and…handsome…and…loving.” says JFK. “Like a cute, cuddly grown brown bear in the woods.” He laughs. “I had no respect for him.”

“And you big, bad Jack Kennedy!” says a black witch in the Illuminati to JFK.

“Yes!” JFK says seriously. He seems indignantly apologetic.

“I think bears can kill humans.” says Lacey poetically.

“More later!” says Lacey.

The Real Slim Shady plays.

“I’m not these men. But the are fascinating. Aren’t they?” says a Marshmallow Man.

“And that’s when you see Eminem as an angry Brit..” says Louis.

“Would you cut off his head?” someone asks Michael.

“Only under the most horrific of circumstances. And then it’d be more likely to be a sword to the heart. Not head.” says Michael.

“No! She’s not Jack. Jack isn’t at all really like Eminem, to put it succinctly.” says Lem.

“Okay! So she’s not a pedophile! And then she’s not poor! Nor in love with me. And possibly…we’re different types of nerds.” says Mr. Blue.

“Yes…putting it elegantly.” says Mrs. Blue.

“He does have a real sexual…vibe.” says Wobbly about Mr. Blue. “I can see where she fell for his act.” says Wobbly.

“But it seems to be an act.” says Lacey.

“It is.” says Mrs. Blue.

“I’m not acting. I’m just me.” says Michael Rockefeller.

“If I pretend to be you by getting high…I literally cannot fathom what it must be like to be in your brain.” Mr. Blue says to Michael.

“Yeah! You’ll have to ask God more someday.” says Michael.

Mrs. Blue has taken to wearing perfume. To compete with this…imaginary Chanel No. 22 wearing Katherine Heigl/Mandy Moore/Britney Spears woman with Lacey’s face.

“Hmm. Is that woman really attractive?” asks Lacey sincerely.

“Yes!” insists a Millennial actor.

“Are you being sincere?” asks Lacey.

“Really?!” asks Lacey.

“Yes! Because they’re being themselves!” says Mr. Blue.

“Yes! But is that vibe attractive?” asks Lacey.

“Not to me.” says Lem to Lacey. “But I see through your act. And you don’t do that act around me.”

“It’s not an act!” says a Millennial man about Lacey.

“No! She’s very different around me.” says Lem.

“Do you find them attractive?!?” asks Lacey.

A group of Millennial men think.

“Yeah. They’re not like…the current absolute ideal. But…they’re all really hot or at least hot.” says a Millennial guy.

“Huh. Well…do they even wear perfume?” asks Lacey.

Michael laughs.

Mr. Blue smiles. “Maybe?”

“What do they actually wear?!?” she asks.

“Probably Chanel No. 22!” says Mrs. Blue humoring her husband.

Lacey tip toes away.

“Do you plan to work?” Louis asks Lacey about Purgatory.

“I don’t know how to have fun.” says Lacey seriously. “I know how to luxuriate. Not have fun. I played alone in my room and was bullied or…bullied. And it hasn’t changed.”

“I must seem smug, untouchable and spoiled?” asks Lem.

“Yes! Excruciatingly painfully so.” says Lacey. “But you were never lonely thanks to Jack!! ….So la di da! …Your life’s pain looks like a single bad dream one shitty night to me. Oh dear! My television broke! I think I’ll use heroin because my brain can’t fathom doing anything else?”

“No, it was more complex and sad than that.” says Lem.

“But you had been loved. Right?” asks Lacey. “And had actual acceptance and fun?”

“Yes!” he says minutes later.

“So you’re a weak piece of pathetic shit?” asks Lacey calmly. “Hey! Maybe I should fuck a man who has no qualms about my vagina touching his Jack-team-fun-gun.” She thinks. “Or I’m sorry! That’s… Team-Jack-Fun-Funny-Fun-Fun-Gun.”

Lem laughs with Lacey.

“So that’s why you slept with Harold Loeb?” says Lem.

“Yup! Yuppy yup yup.” says Lacey. “They weren’t repulsed by my sad ass.”

“You know…I wasn’t either.” he says.

“Oh yes! You were! You says so! In the ding dang dong Bible-Scmible.” She thinks. “It’s a fact Jack! Deal with it! Talk to the hand!”

“I didn’t anticipate you.” says Lem. “You but not…you.”

“What does that mean?” asks Lacey.

“I love you. You’re everything to me. You can’t destroy me but that’s only because you love me.” says Lem.

“Didn’t Jack destroy you?” asks Lacey suspiciously.

“Yes! Not in the same way.” he says. “You don’t-I wouldn’t have wanted to live if you’d just rejected me.

“She can’t believe that.” says Elliott.

“I automatically empathize.” says Lacey. “But it’s as if you’re talking about someone else.”

“Like Jack and me?” he says.

She nods. “Yes. Isn’t that funny?”

Boomers in the Illuminati mostly all rush to insult her for being unloved. It genuinely cracks her up. But then she sincerely worries about them.

“Is the movie Atonement complete bullshit?” asks a Millennial actress of Lacey.

“Mostly.” says Lem Billings.

“Isn’t that sad?” says Lacey.

“Are there any good period films about the Greatest Generation?” asks another actress.

“Not really. Can you please let her talk to Lem?” asks Louis Hill Jr. losing his temper.

“I was so stupid.” says Lem. “I shouldn’t have let you sleep with anyone else. You’re right.”

“You were never clear!” says Lacey.

“So what is it? Homosexuals have faked their own history? And Lem is proof of that? Or what? You’re all secretly y guy guy aroused as men by Lacey? Or what? You’re all narcissists and psychotic? What is it you’re narcissistically hiding?” asks a Boomer in the Illuminati. “Why do you keep shutting Lem up using intense witchcraft or shutting her up when she talks to Lem or changing the conversation?”

“I’m in love with you. You don’t understand.” Lem says to Lacey.

“No. I don’t. But I do love you. I know what it means to love. Not necessarily be loved.” says Lacey.

“And you all thought that was me! Not just a trick used to make me seem more attractive and lovable and charming.” says JFK. “Think about it. You all believe I was never truly loved as handsome and great and amazing as I was?” He scoffs. Smiles. “My very own mummy never loved me! Especially that one terrible time I was in the hospital!”

“Did your mother love you?” asks that Boomer who questioned the LBGTQ community. We’ll call him Frank Jr..

“Yes. She did. She really did. She was…cold. But that was because of my father. Not me. And somehow I knew that subconsciously.” says JFK.

“But Lacey’s mother doesn’t love her for real??” asks Frank Jr..

JFK shrugs carelessly. “Yeah! I guess.”

“So you can shit on her and her father all you want?” asks DFM of JFK.

“She’s a worthless piece of gum under my expensive shoes you black trash.” says JFK in possible Purgatory. Sadly, he’s probably being honest.

Lacey dances in her seat as Let The Drummer Kick plays.

“So you’re a misogynist, racist rapist? And a gay man?” asks a Millennial woman listening of JFK. She feels nauseated by what she’s saying to JFK to the point that she can’t psychologically handle it. It’s too shocking.

“Bisexual. Not like Michael. Michael actually is good in bed with women. I’m squeamish but I pretend not to be. Not that most people knew the difference.” says JFK.

“How do you know Michael is good in bed?” asks the Millennial woman of JFK.

“I watched. Researched it.” says JFK. “My concern is often about sex. That’s why I always talked about it with Lem. I was obsessed.”

“Why?!??” asks Lacey baffled.

He flirts with her. She looks annoyed.

“I can’t figure it out.” he admits to her. “I truly always found sex very mysterious.”

“Like…the mechanics or the psychology?” asks Lacey.

“All of it.” he says.

“So you kept trying to have it to figure it out?” asks Lacey.

“Yes. Kind of. Yes.” he admits.

“I mean I enjoyed hurting people too. And I was actually kind of perverted. But often the joy came from studying the act. And feeling loved. People did fall in love with me. Often. And I fell in love with Lem. And I would have fallen in love with Michael and Louis…and Harold Loeb. And you. Possibly also your ex-husband.” says JFK.

“Huh. Jack that’s very disturbing.” says Lacey.

“Provided Lem loves you and actually didn’t love me?” he asks.

“Yes! True, and I don’t know that.” says Lacey.

Blood In The Cut by K.Flay plays.

Jack is escorted out. The Illuminati likely conjured him to attack Lacey. That’s their only main consistent response besides insecure condescension.

“No, my father probably could have gotten away free as bird with murdering Joe Sr. himself.” says Lacey.

“No! That can’t be true!” say two living bourgeois Minnesota women.

“Why?” asks Louis.

“Because she’s not known of.” says a Rothschild.

“Are you joking or serious?” asks Lacey.

“You think we’re far less powerful than they’ve always thought?” she asks Lacey.

“Yes. You have ancestors who were absolute blowhards and a discredit to the Jews.“ says Lacey. “Saying gross nonsense to insult the British Royal family.”

“You’re right. We insulted the crown.” she says.

“Do you hate yourselves? Did you start Nazi Germany just to get off?” asks Lacey. “What did the Queen’s head taste like when you ate it on your gold, diamond bedazzled tray? Can I have the tray you threw out afterwards?”

“No we don’t hate Jews.” she says.

“Then what was the plan? To conquer England through the banking system?” she laughs. “For Zion?”

“Yes! Except we did get ourselves a Zion.” says a Jew in Israel.

“True! After the Holocaust.” Lacey jokes back.

“Hey! A win…is a win!” says the Jew in Israel.

“You know, you did win Israel. And on that serious note….it really does disturb me that that Rothschild truly thought he controlled Great Britain. Except…I doubt people back then took him entirely seriously, thank God.” says Lacey.

“We didn’t hate our own people and start WWII.” says a Rothschild to Lacey.

“I hope that’s true. But after everything I’ve experienced it’s easy to wonder.” says Lacey.

“I’m sorry.” she says.

“And if Lacey was ‘actually married’ to Michael she’d cry right now if she was with him in our house.” says a dead Rothschild.

“I’d help Lem too.” says the Rothschild who insulted crown.

West End Blues by King Oliver And His Orchestra plays.

Stanley Kubrick falls apart laughing.

Lacey wanders into the party the Harford’s went to in Eyes Wide Shut except as herself in her 30’s. Unmarried.

U Not Like Me by 50 Cent plays.

Lacey sits in a black lace dress. Bored. Watching. In a corner.

Jeffrey Epstein walks by her, makes eye-contact and then looks away…spiritually terrified. She stares him down instinctually to assess the situation. He seems deactivated.

But his presence makes Lacey intrigued by the house itself. She looks around. No! There’s nobody there who would have any clue about the house itself. As per usual. So she goes to the drinks and grabs two glasses of champagne and then pretends to know where she’s going. Wanders upstairs and slowly drinks the Champagne. And as quiet as a ghost she sneaks through every unlocked, unoccupied room examining everything very carefully without touching it.

Loud Pipes by Ratatat plays.

Lacey can barely hear the sound of the guests. The room is dusty and dim. She looks around. Closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. Examines what she’s smells.

She feels at peace. Except…wait! Uh oh! She looks around in a panic. Does this house have a secret mold problem? She further examines the ceiling by sight. Looks at the windows. Stares out the window into the New York City night. Wonders at the death and decay of civilization at the hands of mold. Thoroughly scares herself.

Sunday by DJ Day plays.

Could mold…destroy New York City?

“I read about that in a book once.” says the ghost of Michael Rockefeller trying not to laugh. “No! I’m kidding. But it…is…deadly at times.” he says calming himself down.

She doesn’t hear him but suddenly feels incredibly lonely. Then she hears a loud crack in a huge hallway behind her.

She wonders if she’s surrounded by ghosts. She expects to be kicked-out, but instead it’s as if the house doesn’t want her to leave.

“Oh! You’re up here too!” says a Hungarian sounding man. “I was wondering if they had any old records.”

She glares at him blankly, sizing him up. Cold as ice. He ignores it and starts looking through boxes.

“I’m entranced by this house.” says Lacey, drunk.

“Yes! You do look bewitched!” he says looking at her.

“What do you know about this house?” Lacey asks him.

“Ahh.” He thinks. “It was built in the 1800’s.” He thinks more. “1880’s or 1890’s.” He smiles at her. “Are the ghosts talking to you?”

She feels suddenly bashful and overwhelmed and shows it. It shocks him.

“Yes! Actually, I do sense something.” she says.

He looks creeped out.

Paracosm by Washed Out plays.

“What do you know about my people?!” he asks sharply.

“Where are you from?” Lacey asks.

“I’ll tell you something! It’s Hungary now.” he says in anger.

“You’re from the borderlands of Hungary?” asks Lacey.

He looks sad. Startled.

“There were great monarchies in your part of Europe once.” says Lacey.

“Yes! My family traces its origins back to those great rulers.” he says. He looks at her looking dreamily into space.

“They road horses like in a book you read once.” he says to her with a sly look.

She accidentally responds telepathically and says, “Oh! You know telepathy!” Then she says, “Oh! Oops! Nevermind. I don’t. Or, no that’a lie. I’m not supposed to.”

He looks at her confused.

They stand in silence awkwardly.

“It was a great country! You would have loved it!” he says.

She looks ready to cry.

He feels too frightened to stay.

“Well, enough reminiscing! Time to go!” he says rudely and then leaves.

“He’s just a scared little boy!” says Lem to Lacey.

“I mean you no harm!” says Lacey to the man telepathically accidentally.

She decides she should leave. So she finds a taxi service in a phone book and calls a taxi.

Nobody cares about what Lacey is doing. Truly. Nobody cares.

The Suburbs (continued) by Arcade Fire plays.

She lays on a bed. Rests for half an hour. Totally undisturbed.

Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 1 in B-Flat Minor as performed by Arthur Rubinstein plays.

She gets up. Straightens out the bed.

Elliott Roosevelt (son of FDR) finds the entire thing hilarious and she can almost hear him laughing. She wonders if someone somewhere is laughing. She supposes it is funny to do this…at a party…when several men eyed her when she walked-in, for her beauty. But…everything worthwhile in regard to love feels so dead and hopeless so…this room with its dusty sheets and smell of old books and wood is far more lovely.

She walks down the hallway to the stairs and passes the bathroom where the scene was with the model. She hears them trying to revive her. She prays for her to live. She worries about her soul. Prays they’ll all repent and turn to Christ. She lingers for a second longer to briefly mourn and contemplate the drug crisis of the 20th Century. Then she leaves.

Well, rather she stands in the foyer waiting for her taxi. Men and women pass by her. Men stare. Men don’t.

Then she goes to get in her taxi and does. Goes to her hotel. Watches television before going to sleep.

“How was the party? Did you get a chance to talk to the President of the Gardening Club?” asks a lady named Lisa in Minnesota. Lisa decided to send Lacey because Lacey had a weekend with nothing to do. And Lacey wasn’t scared to approach the woman at the Christmas party she invited Lisa to that night. So Lacey volunteered.

Lacey wouldn’t anymore. But in her early 30’s and if her early 30’s were lived in the late 1990’s especially, she might have.

“I talked to Mrs. Clausman when I first got there and then some man had a brief conversation about Hungarian history with me.” says Lacey cheerfully.

Lisa looks at her enraged. Simmering. Lacey has no idea why. Lisa goes quiet.

“I told Mrs. Clausman not to worry about sending us old seeds. Like you told me to tell her.” says Lacey. “She seemed completely fine with all your other points of concern. And here’s her email address. You should email her!” says Lacey handing her the email address.

“Okay! Thanks!” says Lisa tucking her hair behind her ear. She seems to be perking-up at the sight of the email address.

East St. Louis Toodle-Do by Duke Ellington plays.

Two weeks later Lisa approaches Lacey with a huge smile. Her attitude has completely changed.

“Hey! So, I talked to Cindy Clausman and she told me to tell you that she wants you to email her.” Lisa says almost confrontationally now. “I think you should!”

Lacey sizes Lisa up. Starts looking for the rat.

“Alright.” says Lacey after sensing Lisa is innocent. Lacey sizes-up Cindy Clausman. She seems clean too.

“And if I or Louis or Lem or Michael are men and not demons…we are far better men than Mr. Blue. FAR superior.” says Elliott Roosevelt.

Memoryhouse by Max Richter plays.

“But if we weren’t…the night Lacey arrived at the house to help Mrs. Clausman sort through the rubble of the upstairs bedroom that Lacey was in…we’d strangle her in her sleep for reading The Sun Also Rises and The Great Gatsby. Out of jealousy, sure. But…the point is…we’d murder her for reading Hemingway and feeling compassion and love for the character Harold Loeb inspired. Our logic would be that we had a right to kill her as she rested peacefully in her sleep just because it was our jealousy. And as dead celebrities…we had a imperial MANIFEST DESTINY to kill anyone we fancied. …But…we aren’t that evil or we are just demons. Because God is in Heaven. Ruling. So…keep that in mind.” says Elliott.

“Why’d you start a class war?” JFK asks Mr. Blue.

“I think I’m Joe Kennedy Sr..” Mr. Blue once says like he thinks very clearly superior.

“You’re not me.” Joe Sr. says to Mr. Blue clearly and plainly.

“I’m not evil! I’m stupid!” pleads Mr. Blue.

“Is this when we hear how in love and passionate Lacey is for you from your wife.”Louis asks Mr. Blue.

“You know…we’ve actually slept with her. For realz. In person. Like…her. Like…she was actually there. As an adult. When we are adults. And like…actually for real in person.” says Louis. “Like…we’ve seen her. In person. And had sex. Real sex. And if we’re dead men we have real feelings not sick, confused delusions and astounding anger.” He laughs sadly. “I’m actually devastated. But it’s Heaven. And I’m dead. And I’m working through my sin…or she’s not fully dead yet. Or both. Do you care? …She’s been over you for years. And there’s a very good chance she never truly loved you at all. Isn’t there? Be honest. She loved the man you pretend to be when you’re not supposed to be acting. …You never even saw her in person.” he says. “Just let it go?”

“What if he can’t?” ask Mrs. Blue possibly crying.

“Does he love you?” asks Lem.

“Yes!” says Mr. Blue.

“Then why do we have to care?!?” Michael asks Mr. Blue, exasperated.

“I kind of know a lot of shit. And they may have already killed me. And I’m a body double of myself.” he says.

“Or that was me.” says a dead guy in Washington D.C.. “Not you. You were channeling me. Because I’m dead! And I SHOULDN’T BE!!! he yells. “I WAS YOUNG!!!”

Bad Memory by K.Flay plays.

“I was killed.” he says. “I was a big deal in Washington D. C.. I was! I advised a lot of important people. And I saw you! And I saw her…when her boyfriend broke her heart. And it ENRAGED me.” he says. “Can you guess who I am?” he asks. “Do you have any idea how close we came to meeting? Truly!” He scoffs. “You are so smug. But you were nothing compared to me until your wife’s family came to your rescue and gave you a job. Get a clue. Please.”

“And now it’s time for bed!” says Lem to Lacey getting her to stop writing.

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to ever sleep with my mommy!” says Wobbly to Lem. “She was the one! Not Lacey.”

“What about your dad?” asks JFK Jr..

“He’s just a fool like me.” says Wobbly.

“But he’s your dad!” says JFK Jr..

“Yeah, I guess she likes him.” he says.

“I’d keep track of your dad. Something tells me those two are secretly together.“ says JFK Jr. to Wobbly.

“Huh! You might be on to something, stupid.” says Wobbly to JFK Jr..

JFK Jr. smiles. “Yeah. I think that’s who is really together. Your mom and your dad. Just ask her sometime when she’s not expecting it. She’ll probably accidentally tell you.” he says. “Don’t you like your dad?”

“I’m mad at em’.” he says.

“Aww. You can’t blame him for dying. It’s a really easy thing to do.” says JFK Jr..

“Not for all of us.” say Wobbly.

“Well…maybe you’ll like him em’ more when you see him again. Maybe he’ll grow on you.” says JFK Jr.. “It could all work out. You’ll see!”

“More writing tomorrow!” says