Zoological Society

After discussing matters with literal Nazis…who helped her get rid of her migraine with milk, Advil and good company…and Woody Allen who is Woody Allen…Lacey now is slightly more sane again.

Of course it doesn’t hurt that Joe Sr. told her she comes across as a condescending jerk. Nor that indeed people don’t like to be told what’s wrong with them or the mistakes they’re making. It’s just apparently hurtful… It wouldn’t be to Lacey. But to him and many other people like him it’s difficult to handle.

The suggestions she made to the Nazis about their overall war tactics and the Holocaust…may have been warmly received.

It started out last night with Sydney Pollock and others trying to psychologically assist Lem Billings. Lacey was awake until 5AM chatting with him and the others. People were kind but…by 5AM when she, exhausted, had to go to sleep and it was again Michael Rockefeller who she cozied up with in bed…as the stubbornly aghast and perpetually morally appalled Lem still wanted to convict her of her sins…the team lost hope.

It’s not that her sins don’t count. It’s just…why is he so ugly about them? Or that’s the feeling of some Hollywood minds, so to speak.

Jack is a problem. Sure. *a Nazi rolls his eyes in agreement with Lacey* “But…he seems to miss the forest for the trees. He being Lem.” says the Nazi.

“What in the world is Lacey doing, Lem?!?” yells an aghast man.

Lem looks uncomfortable.

He smiles.

“She’s not necessarily the problem. I’m just devastated that she let herself be conquered sexually by Elliott Roosevelt.” he responds.

“Or was it Joe? Or Louis?” Lacey asks.

“Do you know who hurt-“ he crassly starts to ask who hurt him through her. As if she’s nothing but an instrument of his. A meaningless nothing.

“You have very little respect for me left?” he asks her.

“Yes.” she answers.

Silence.

“Michael, why doesn’t it bother you that F. Scott Fitzgerald slept around after his heart was broken?” an intellectual woman asks him.

“Because he meant well.” says Michael.

“How can you mean well?!” asks Lem.

“Because some people really are actually confused, potentially. Not just faking it like your ol’ best-fuck-friend.” says Lacey to Lem.

“So that’s all this is?! …She’s just hurting me because of Jack?!” he asks the Nazi helping him understand.

“She’s right, Lem. Why isn’t that obvious to you?!” asks Elliott, exasperated.

“I mean it’s…toxic Lem…but…” a woman says to Lem.

He thinks. “Did she sleep with them to test me?!”

“Lem, why wouldn’t that just be blatantly obvious?” asks the Nazi.

He blinks. He thinks.

“Did Genevra test men?” a man asks Lacey.

“If I was to interpret her, I’d say yes. But that’s me living her life. Not her.” says Lacey.

“I bet Scott hoped she was like you.” says a perfume hater.

“Whether she was or not.” says another perfume hater, sadly.

“Wasn’t I supposed to test you?” Lacey asks Lem.

He blinks.

Michael looks unimpressed. Chill.

“Why don’t you just pull the plug?” Lacey asks him in despair. Migraine almost returning.

He looks at her, she hears his his voice, “Should I?” he asks her.

“Isn’t that up to you?” she asks.

He smiles. He closes his eyes. He thinks.

“I can’t in good conscience.” he says to her.

“But…all it’s amounting to so far is torture for me.” says Lacey.

“They’re bullying you using Lem.” he explains.

“Why are you letting them?” she asks.

“Because you don’t understand!” he yells, knowing how much she’ll understand if he says just that.

“You’re beggers!” yells a perfume hater at the Illuminati. “You’re nothing but a bunch of desperate, sad fucks!”

An elite black man in the Illuminati understands and braces himself.

“They lie.” says Lem to Lacey.

“I’m exhausted.” says Lacey to Lem.

“What do you want from us?” Michael asks Lem.

Jack somehow believes he’s the one who insisted Michael ask that. He takes full credit for Michael’s interest in Lacey.

Michael laughs.

“Lem, I might have been bisexual but I wasn’t ever in love with Jack. Or being with men.” says Michael, smiling.

Bizet’s “Carmen Suite For Orchestra No. 2” plays.

“If you’d been loved and fit in you’d make little sense and be as dumb as we are.” explains a perfume hater to Lacey, heartlessly.

Mozart’s “Symphony No. 40” starts.

“Sorry! Bizet is lovely, but I can’t stand the way they’re treating you.” says the Nazi to Lacey.

“Do you prefer Mozart?” a perfume hater asks Lacey.

“Mozart is her heroin!!!” yells the Nazi. “Her brain works in such a way…that when she hears Mozart she feels very little pain.” He laughs. “What?! Your brain doesn’t work that way?!”

It’s the Berlin Philharmonic playing. It works. Lacey feels bad but analyzes it as she listens.

“So you’re like a baby?!” asks a hater of Lacey.

“No. She’s an adult. You just don’t hear it or feel what she does.” explains the Nazi.

“Is it like a language?” asks the Loudest Perfume Hater of the Nazi.

“Yes!” he says cheerfully. “Possibly, right.”

“Do you want to get high?” the Loudest Perfume Hater asks Lacey.

“No. But when I had surgery on my eye it helped. And apparently my migraine was serious enough I must have needed medical attention.” says Lacey.

“You know…your weakness terrified her.” a Tik Tok star explains to Lem.

“It really is more that I was hurt.” says Lacey.

Laughing hysterically the perfume community has to ask, “Lem…why did you think Jack would be a good magic decoder ring for F. Scott Fitzgerald when he’s already pissed off as Hell??” They think. “Metaphorically speaking, and sorry for swearing.”

He smiles. Then he looks up and closes his eyes in terror.

“She hates having that much control in her relationship with her significant other.” explains Genevra King.

He cries.

“So is it the gender opposite of Scott?” Lacey asks Genevra.

“Yes! He likes control. You understand!” she says. She thinks. “It’s very subtle.”

“Okay…so let me get this straight. You literally just had to tell her off once?!” asks a writer of Lem, sick to his stomach that Lacey is being taken advantage of by Lem.

“In an appropriate way.” says Lem in a chokehold due to Michael.

Jack tries to take credit for that as well.

“Why did Michael have to put you in a chokehold to get you to admit that?” the writer asks Lem.

“He doesn’t like me!” yells Lem.

“Are you sure Lem?” asks the writer.

“No!!!” yells Lem.

Heated, the two shove each other.

Looking flushed, Lem leans over and rests the palms of his hands on his knees. He breathes to catch his breath.

Jack, standing behind, considers raping Lem. He’s bent over, after all. But Jack, seemingly drunk, is escorted away by Nazis. I doubt the American public ever saw Jack drunk. He looks very gay while drunk.

Genevra nods her head in agreement. Objectively.

“Do I seem gay while drunk?” Michael asks Lacey. She watches him.

“No.” says Lacey.

“What’s Jack look like?” asks a Boomer.

“He kind of wiggles. He…seems shaky. He looks like he’s had one too many Pina Coladas on Spring Break in 2006. And it’s like…closing time…and he’s…just ‘curious’ and being super friendly, so to speak.” says Lacey.

“Like an old dude?” asks the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“No. He’s young.” says Lacey. “Youngish.”

“Like how young?” asks a hater.

“Not that young. Like, early 30’s or mid 20’s.” says Lacey.

“He’s on weed not alcohol!” says the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“But he’s wiggling like he’d almost fall over if you pushed him just the tiniest bit.” says Lacey.

“So he looks drunk.” says the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Mostly?” says Lacey.

“He could be on coke too. It’s Purgatory…” says a Millennial. She laughs and covers her mouth.

“That’s sad that he still thinks Lem wants him.” says an elite Liberal intellectual.

“You don’t really think that? Do you?” asks Lacey.

“Yes. I do.” he says.

Lacey looks disgusted. Not with him.

“Did Lem imitate Mae West to mock Jack?” asks a Millennial.

“That horrific possibility is possibly why I tested Lem.” says Lacey.

“I’m sorry!” Lem says to her.

Lacey rolls her eyes. “I can barely hear you.”

“What do you want from us?” Michael as Lem.

Lem analyzes the situation.

“You’re like a mob boss and instead of romantically pursuing you I just…threw my vomit in your face.” he says.

“Should I apologize to you for considering the possibility you might love me as possible?” she asks.

“Fuck!” he says. He starts rocking himself in anguish. He’s being serious.

“You know it’s funny. You’re all just in her head. Whether you exist or not.” says Michael to the Illuminati. “Why can’t you hear her actual spirit?” He looks almost guilty. “Who is she?” he asks Mr. Blue.

He laughs. “Okay. I get it.” he says, playing along.

Lem cracks-up laughing, sincerely.

“Hey Michael-“ starts Sarah Silverman.

“Shut-up!” yells Michael, violently. Dryly but violently.

“Michael, why…is Lem so upset?” Woody Allen asks him.

Michael takes a deep breath. “If you’re the emissary from the Land of Jews.” he laughs. Then he smiles. “The thing is…he’s not being heard.”

“What the heck is the problem with the Bloody Democrats?!” the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“I think they think they’re all intellectually at the level of the Clintons.” says a Pillsbury.

“True!” Louis vehemently agrees.

“What do you think?” Lem asks Lacey.

“I think they’re divided. Between those who see Lem as either bisexual or straight. And those who need him to be gay. Forever. And ever.” says Lacey.

Woody Allen cracks-up laughing.

“Which Woody Allen? Which Sarah Silverman?” asks a Diane.

“There are so many.” says Lacey.

“Did Jack…trick Lacey into thinking you loved him and lied about it? Do you hear the voice whispering violently in Lacey’s ear constantly that you’re lying? That her happiness with you is a lie? That she’s going to Hell? That nothing good will ever happen to her again?” asks Michael.

“Is that you? Or is that Jack? Or the Devil? Or Kick? Or Bobby? Or Jackie? Or who?” asks Lacey.

“Is it some family that needs Lem to be gay? To somehow cover-up for murdering him?” asks Michael.

“Why would they kill him?” asks the Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Because he gave heroin to kids. Because he may have been behind the murder of at least Jack, unwittingly. Because he wouldn’t fuck Bobby and make him so-called, ‘feel better.’”Lacey.

“Those are all brilliant reasons.” says Hemingway. “And, of course, we know the truth.”

“Or was it Eunice he wouldn’t put out for?” asks a perfume hater.

“Possibly.” says Lacey.

“I think he was used. And when they got done using him they just threw him away. And Bobby did it because he was so tired of being rejected sexually his whole life by his idol.” says Harold Loeb.

“So all those rumors about him being a pervert were planted for a sicko’s ego?” asks Lacey.

Joe Jr. weeps. Regrets. “I almost escaped.”

“Ethel’s?” asks Scott.

“Evil ends Hell.” says Vinny. “If Bill goes to Hell…where do you go?”

“I’ll become a bird or a child or be so stubborn God can’t hurt me!” says an evil woman.

“Are you sure that will work?” asks Lacey.

“Did Ted molest Bobby? Or did Ethel? Or did Ted?” asks a hater.

“I don’t think that will work!” Lacey says to the evil woman.

“Or did Jack molest Bobby?” asks Lem.

“Do you actually think that’s possible?” asks a man named Pete of Lem.

“Yes!! Why would I say it otherwise?!” asks Lem. He’s found safety with the Belters. It was Michael’s idea.

“I hate to say it but it’s more political than you’d like to think.” says a Belter.

“Really?” asks Lacey.

“We’re safe.” say the Belters

“It was my idea too!” says Lem to Lacey.

Paul Tirtin laughs. Lacey can hear him. It was his idea too.

“My father wasn’t an idiot.” says Genevra menacingly to haters.

“Why are they letting that one family have so much power?!” asks a man in the perfume community who’s dead.

“Because they’re losing to Michael.” says Lacey.

“How so?” asks Genevra of Lacey.

Lacey goes to get chocolate chocolate covered strawberries. Lacey has three and then stops. Because it’s dark chocolate.

“I need to buy dark chocolate and make my own.” Lacey says to Genevra.

“You should have one more.” Genevra says darkly.

“I do love them, but I’m going to get ice cream instead.” says Lacey.

Safely, “See…we need oil. And even if we don’t…they’re so powerful and well-connected. It’s dangerous to disarm them too forcefully.” says Lacey.

“I would agree!” says J. P. Kennedy.

“The thing is…you make stupid mistakes. It’s not that Michael can’t let go. It’s not that he’s too dependent. It’s that he can’t in good conscience leave the discussion. And it’s very arrogant to assume that they can just waltz in and take charge with buckshot nonsense.” says Lacey.

“I don’t like you!” says a Boomer actress to Lacey.

Genevra laughs. Scoffs really. Lacey follows Genevra’s lead.

Lacey laughs to Scott.

“I wish we could just go out tonight. Literally. And get drunk and cry.” Scott says Lacey.

“That does sound like fun.” Lacey says, almost ready to cry. Although getting drunk is wrong of course.

“It would be nice to just talk though.” he says.

She, of course, agrees.

Lacey suddenly wonders if they put lead in chocolate to make it sweet and save money on sugar.

A man rolls is eyes wondering if Lacey is right.

“So we’re at war with Michael?” asks Mr. Blue.

“Symbolically, possibly. Or maybe literally. The thing is, you’ve become obsessed with me. And obsessed with Lem.” says Lacey to the they in the Illuminati. “At first it seemed safe to be with Lem, but…you can’t let me be happy. You keep demonically attacking every relationship I get into. …And the problem is you’re being idiots. Because there’s no way you can truly end soulmates. And if Lem wasn’t gay…he just wasn’t. And if you’re taking demon’s advice and it contradicts saints…that isn’t my problem. …The thing is…you’re obsessed with Lem and me. And it’s bizarre. It’s almost as if you’re being tricked. Like, Jack is being used. And it’s working. Not because Lem cheats but because he doesn’t and you can’t fathom it. And you keep trying…and trying. And your perverse obsession with ‘Kem’ is actually your problem. …It’s a way to keep you weak. It’s your Achilles heel.” says Lacey.

“I can’t believe this is about oil. Your family isn’t that powerful. They barely have any oil. They’re not powerful. …It’s about a personal issue of you being obsessed with Lem. And on behalf of Lem as someone who actually knew him while he was alive not just as a figment of your imagination or some sex toy…I reassure you you’re a pathetic-loser-nobody. You’re a social-climbing-idiot-pervert. A reckless, irresponsible, ignorant, selfish person.” says a Bobby Jr. to Lacey. He’s being serious.

Bobby then claims ownership of all classical music as a member of the true upper-class.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” says Lacey. “Your whole spiel is the problem.”

“Is any of what he’s saying true?” asks Harvey.

Lacey thinks. “Not really.”

They fly into a fit.

“The thing is…it’s not whether or not it’s true it seems but more or less the fact that he’s distracted by it.” Lacey says.

“Is it demonic?” asks Harvey.

“It could be. It’s unclear what that means if it’s true.” says Lacey.

“It’s revenge. But not. It’s also justice.” says Harvey.

“Yes. And you all keep getting stuck in your own traps.” says Lacey.

“From the man who brought you ‘Monsanto Is A Conspiracy’ and ‘Bill Is Bad’ comes ‘Lem is Faggot, Dammit!’” says an English hater.

“I don’t like that last title from this nationally renowned author.” says Michael.

“How about, ‘Lem Worshipped Jack’s Super-Penis?’” asks Lacey.

“Mm…I like, ‘Lem Was A Gay Man.’” says an Environmentalist. “It’s short, simple and to the point.”

“But that way nobody will understand.” says Lacey. “It’s not accurate of course, but it sounds too real.”

The environmentalist looks at her with a wink.

“Yeah, I just don’t think he was gay. I’m not sure how to manage your reaction to be helpful.” says Lacey to the they.

“The thing is, why are you on their hit list? And why are they using me?!” asks Lacey of the they.

“Because you’re clueless. And they’re liars.” says Genevra to Lacey.

“Lem, I’m sorry if I’ve been a terrible person to you.” says Lacey to Lem.

He listens.

“What is it?” asks a capitalist of Lacey.

“Are you really that morally in the right?” she asks.

“No, I know what you meant.” says a Belter.

“What is it that bothers you?” Michael asks her.

“The Curse” plays.

“The Kennedy’s are the backup singers.” says Lacey. “They aren’t even the piano.”

“Which instrument?” asks Michael.

“You mean backup singers.” says Lem to Lacey.

“Yes. But of course it’s what? The bow on the violin?” says Lacey.

“And what is our love?” asks Louis.

“Our love is so perfect it scares me.” says Lacey.

“Our love is perfect too.” says Michael to Lacey.

“It feels like what?” asks Audrey Hepburn.

“Supernatural. As if you were to manifest in some terrifying way.” says Lacey.

Silence.

“The thing is…Lem is less perfect in that way, but I think he’s just as good if not better. Almost like he’s God’s plan for redemption. …But…the others are my fallen soulmates. And God can redeem them but they are attached to the fallen world.” says Lacey.

Silence.

“And these plans for redemption keep falling apart. And there’s something vile about it. Almost like Michael and I are being forced together. And it’s perverse.” says Lacey.

“We’re the royalty.” says Elliott.

“So am I.” says Lem, taking off his mask.

“It’s not perverse for us to make love.” says Michael to her.

“Yes!” says Lacey. “But you’re supposed to be a slave, he’s supposed to be a dumb jock, and you’re supposed to snub me.” Lacey says.

“And Joe was supposed to love you?” asks a Belter.

“Bitter Sweet Symphony” plays and its a mess as it should be.

“Yes! And that’s supposed to be miracle. But it’s not. And that’s the horrible truth I’m grappling with in the grips of the best and worst of the Illuminati.” says Lacey.

“Is there a way to seduce you away from Michael?” asks an actor of Lacey.

“No.” says Lacey. “That’s possibly impossible.”

“And yet…Lem might who God wants?” asks an Ethel.

“Yes.” says Lacey, grimacing because it’s a mess.

Silence.

“I don’t understand the mind of God…but it’s a mess. Because I loved Joe. But it feels like he cheated once Pat died. Or he was going to. And Harold called him on it? And then Scott got involved…and my family did too…and…maybe always were. But…my father is complicated. And…Lem is…who someone always wanted for me? But…Joe was who had won…and then…Harold cared. And Joe cheated and Lem won. Elliott lost. And then Louis lost. And Scott lost. And Harold lost. And…the buck stops with Michael.” says Lacey.

“I’m better in bed than Michael!” yells Bobby.

“Oh dear. What’s your next hot topic? Big Bird’s psychology?” asks Lacey a Bobby.

“I’m sorry.” says Lem to Lacey.

“Are being serious?” someone asks Lacey.

“Yes. I don’t think I’m being heard. Or believed. Or taken seriously. And it’s not safe.” says Lacey.

She stares David down. She threatens to smash Bobby’s Sr.’s skull in if he doesn’t get a clue.

“The thing is…Big Bird is fascinating. What’s wrong with him though? Why is so…creepy?” asks Lacey.

“You know I agree!” says Louis.

“Do you think Big Bird has big problems or big potential or big pockets?” asks Lacey.

“Big problems.” says Louis.

“‘The Yellow Man.’” says Lacey.

“But he’s a bird.” says Lem.

“Is he?!” asks Lacey.

“What’s the problem with him?” asks a member of the actual Illuminati sex ring.

“Well, first of all, you’re insane and evil. Secondly…” she pauses. Thinks.

“You probably think we’re a stupid business?” he asks her.

“Are you retarded? You shouldn’t have been born if you haven’t created your own kids.” says Lacey. “Keep up, I’m tired.” She thinks. “Not that you should necessarily raise your kids.” She yawns. “The thing is, Big Bird has worse problems than you.”

“I might be a psychopath.” they say.

“So what?!” says Lacey. “This is The Yellow Man we’re talking about.”

“Is he a billionaire?” asks the evil man.

“He’s worse. He’s wealthier than any man to ever exist.” says Lacey.

She threatens to stab the man in his face and neck if he comes near or her family. He declines her offer impolitely to be killed that way or by her in general.

“That’s cool. That’s healthy that you don’t want me to kill you in self-defense or as a capital punishment. If you decide to kill yourself pray first at least.” says Lacey.

“If you killed me in self-defense people would side with me anyway. They’d do it because I’ve brainwashed people so much they think I’m right for being killed by someone like you regardless of how right you are. You have no rights and no damn existence or excuse in their minds.” he says.

“That’s kind of you to admit that.” says Lacey. She smiles. “The thing is…you’re being mean to yourself. Come on! I know you wanna hear more about The Yellow Man.”

“Fine! Who is he?” he asks.

“Maybe I just made him up?” she wonders.

“You feel sorry for me.” he says.

“Of course I do!!” she yells.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“You shouldn’t have been born. Your existence amazes me. How you don’t just kill your send out of fear of being sent to Hell is baffling to me.” says Lacey.

“You think I’m a fool for siding with that fool.”

“I’m not on flipping Dragnet. But yeah. It’s weird.” says Lacey.

“No, we’re insane.” they admit?

“For being pedophiles. The rest of it? I think you’ve been had.” says Lacey.

“And that’s concerning to you?”

“Big Bird.”

“Are they trying to let us all die?”

“Oh yeah, probably. Listen…my cousin shot himself in the face. I see ghosts. I was molested and I have a real soul. …Death isn’t the worst thing.” says Lacey. “They want you to feel sorry for them? Not for the kids. For then.” She thinks. “See…the thing is…being as insane as you are…can you empathize with their stupidity? They don’t have brains almost or they’re worse than you.”

“Are you David or Goliath?” he asks.

“I worry I’m Goliath. Not just because I was sexually abused. And they lie and say I’m only feeling special because I was groomed as a kid…but I know that’s not likely true. It’s a cover. A tradition. Because it absolves them of what they’re doing to themselves. They aren’t victims. But they’ll never be loved in return. And they give all their power spiritually to the children. Possibly forever. Or at least their entire lives. And the love will never be returned. At all. Because it’s entirely unwanted. It’s entirely unwanted. Unreceived. They’re sending themselves to Hell for eternity and they’re too lost to see it. And too brain dead. Not from good sex but from the most profound deception possible. They’re doing the most vile thing you can do to another human and then there’s literally nothing real or good in it for them at all. We can only hope they have some inkling of their bare existence before eternal Hell or what? Ceasing to exist? Being lobotomized. Having to see how they look from my eyes? Because that’s all it is and the rest is probably even worse. It’s just…derangement. Don’t deceive yourselves to look elite. It’s not. It’s…supremely embarrassing at its impossible best. …But I worry I’m Goliath because…”

“Nah. I hear you.”

“So that makes me nervous.”

Silence.

“Do you worry?” she asks.

Silence.

“Do you worry?” asks Lacey.

“You really did start the pand-“

“DFM?” Lacey shrugs to be kind. “DFM?”

“I’m full of it.” says a Hollywood jerk.

“Nah, nah, what was that poem you memorized?” asks a man.

“Sarah Teasdale. There Will Come Soft Rains.” says Lacey.

“Could you control all of us?”

“Possibly.”

Silence.

“The thing is…it shouldn’t be happening.” says Lacey.

“So…just to be clear…this wouldn’t be a huge problem if they’d left you alone in regard to Joe Jr.?” asks Bobby.

“Possibly.” says Lacey.

“Did Michael plan it or did he both want and not want it?”

“Both. And I worry Lem is telling you to go to Hell. Literally.” says Lacey.

“So…the Earth is falling apart, Lem is cursing us to eternity in pain, suffering and misery, and we’re focused on Big Bird?” asks a man.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“Are we choosing that?” he asks.

“Is Jack choosing a popped collar and Miami in 2006?” asks Lacey.

“Possibly.”

“Why?” asks Lacey.

—-

Oblivious

While Lacey rides in a helicopter with Michael over Manhattan, Lem sits in an SUV. Alone. Behind the wheel. And since it’s death…she can talk to them both at the same time. Nifty.

Michael points out to Lacey the parts of Manhattan his family used to own. She wonders where her supposed family once farmed? They discuss urban development and the change of topography over the centuries. It’s extremely pleasant.

“That’s why I’m a Christian. Yeah.” says a black woman smiling. She nods her head.

An Asmat laughs. They agree with Lacey. They too are confused…at this moment. By Lem. Lacey finds that comforting.

“She doesn’t know, Lem. That’s all. What don’t you understand? She was lied to? And it’s so simple.” an Asmat explains.

Lem rests his head on the wheel. Smiles because he thinks Lacey is enduring pain to cope with…the pain she caused him by sleeping with other men. …But it’s not quite like that.

“She doesn’t know!!!” yells an African man to get him to snap out of it.

He lifts his head. Tries not to panic.

“Why do you keep thinking she thinks you ever loved her?” asks Joe of Lem. “Michael has her. Try taking her away. She’s repulsed by me. Try it.” He sits in the passenger seat. “Maybe you can do it. I can’t.”

Lem stifles rage. Breathes.

“Sweetie, the Fitzgerald’s never owned Manhattan.” Rose Kennedy says to Lem in a creepy voice.

“We ruled the streets. We never owned New York City.” says a leader of the Irish Mob.

“Does that overwhelm you?” Rose asks, again in a creepy voice.

“There are different types of farms, Lem.” says the ghost of a girl from Wisconsin.

Lem thinks. Recalculates. Blinks. Looks over at Joe.

Studies Joe who won’t shut-up about something. Joe who smiles, oblivious.

Oblivious.

(Adult content below)

“Joe, are you blind?” Lem asks him.

Joe considers. Scoffs.

“She has a soft chin. Doesn’t she? And tiny tits. But they are tits. Not bumbling breasts.” says Lem. “She’s very agile and yet…I can’t place it. What is it? Oh! Oh! I know. She’s weak. She can’t even throw a frisbee well. Yuck!!”

Joe collects himself. “What does that have to do with my sight?”

“Oh nothing. She’s useless.” Lem pushes his glasses up his nose. “I mean…what can you do with her? It’s impossible to get in her vagina and get her off too? Right?” He shrugs. “So what can you use a woman like that for?” He shrugs, takes a swig from his water bottle. Looks brutal. Indifferent.

Elliott suddenly appears and laughs in the backseat. In uniform.

Feeling bullied Joe drops his smile.

Lem makes eye-contact with Joe.

“What’s it like? Being so superior to God? …I’m your imagination, of course.” asks Lem.

Silence.

“Oh no! It’s a serious problem. Analyze it! Now! …What’s it like?!” asks Lem. “Of course, you’re nothing. …Just a piece of shit. Right? …But can you imagine?!”

“You’re not really better than God. But…what if you scare Him? Who will save you?” asks Elliott of Joe.

“Right? Like…did you ever wonder? What if you’re the best man to ever live?” asks Lem. “What’s your duty to the whole wide world?”

“You have a bigger dick!” Joe shouts at Lem, fuming.

“I’m also not a moron who would cheat on women for no apparent good reason.” says Lem.

“What if you are the reason?” Elliott asks Lem.

“Then why are we even here? What in the world was the point of my life and Lacey’s life…aside from her kids?” asks Lem. “If those are my kids at all…our lives were utter rot aside from the creation of them.”

Joe blinks.

Elliott laughs. “Oh no, Joe’s meaning is to save London, Lem.”

Joe looks unimpressed by the insult.

“I’m proud to be a breeder. It’s a blessing. Not a curse.” says Lem. “It’s the only thing I ever had going for me.”

“Joe, what is the point of saving London?” asks an actor in the Illuminati.

“You are on record saying the opposite!” Joe says to Lem.

“Oh well!! Maybe it’s far more complicated than you can comprehend! Leave it to my friends to explain to you someday!” yells Lem.

“You faked it!” says Joe with help from the Illuminati.

Lem crosses his arms across his chest. Huffs.

“I was fooled.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “And I fooled you?!?” He breathes. “And I fooled you?!”

“Joe? Why save London?” asks Michael with Lacey.

“Why London?” asks a member of the IRA.

“Yeah, Joe. London?!” asks the leader of the Irish Mob in the 1940’s.

Lem shakes his head. “You completely screwed-up her mind.” he says to Joe.

“What were you supposed to do?” asks a dead football coach of Joe Jr..

“Probably be a philosophy professor.” says Joe. He laughs. “Actually, I wasn’t bad at politics. Just…understanding war.” He laughs. “Not why they’re fought, necessarily. But how to win them.”

Lem laughs. “You don’t understand war at all.”

“The only just war is fought by someone in absolute self-defense or on behalf of families.” says Elliott.

“You can boil it down to that.” says a dead U.S. General.

“You do seem straight when you’re insulting my family.” says Joe to Lem. Suddenly seeing it. He sighs.

Silence.

“So why fight a war?!” he asks Lem.

“When someone is trying to hurt your children. You reason through the threat. And then act accordingly.” he says. “If she’d been mine and you’d threatened our lives in any way I’d have had you murdered first. It’s not witchcraft. It’s common sense.”

*cough* “Say…Hoe…why London, babe?” asks the IRA woman.

“Because London is classy!” yells Joe Sr..

“And your family is a real class act these days? Huh?” asks the IRA woman. “Moving it and shaking it?”

The leader of the The Jackson Five cracks-up laughing. “Taking it on the road!”

DFM.

“The Kennedy Family!” says Lacey. “Like the Partridges but with polo shirts and yachts.”

“Lem joined the Partridge Family!” laughs a woman. “Because he thought he was gay…”

Lacey laughs. Imagines Lem being a groupie for Keith Partridge. Riding in the back of the van. Painting the van on weekends with new flowers or bugs…or a sun? A dog? A…stick-figure smiling and and waving?

“That’s very kind.” she says to Lem.

“We were classier than that!” says Jack.

“Were we really?” asks Joe of Jack.

“Why did you paint in a bathtub?” asks Lacey.

Carolyn smiles. She gets it.

“They found it convenient.” says Lem.

“It was just about convenience, sweetie.” Carolyn says to Lacey.

Lacey is transported back to the mansion where they filmed “Eyes Wide Shut.” She sits on the marble bench and feels irritated. She examines everything. Critiques it all.

She wonders who everyone is.

She wonders why she cares. Still subconsciously influenced by Joe Jr. she grabs a whole bottle of red wine…and starts drinking it.

A man laughs. Quickly walks off.

“Lacey, that’s Chateau Margaux.” says another man in warning and reproach.

“Oh well. Oh bloody well.” says Lacey threateningly but with a sweet smile.

“Some people consider threatening her. Killing her. And she analyzes it coldly as they they analyze it in impulsive desperation.” says Michael.

“I don’t get killed?!” she asks.

“Lacey, you’re busy.” he says.

“True.” she says. She thinks. “But I don’t want to get too attached and get hurt.”

“They why get attached at all?” he asks. He pouts.

“Your wealth beguiles me.” she says.

“It is a lot of wealth.” he says apologetically.

“Not enough to fend off the Ottoman Empire.” she says sadly.

He sighs.

“You don’t quote stuff to sound smart? You’re legitimately worried about the Ottoman Empire.” says an aristocrat to Lacey.

“Yes. Isn’t that endearing?” she scoffs at herself. Enjoys a sip of wine.

“Why? Precious!” he flirts. Laughs. “Isn’t that idiotic?”

She thinks. “It’s just…when was that ever settled?”

He throws his glass on the floor.

She’s repulsed.

He covers his mouth.

“What country ate up your fortune? And when?” asks Lacey.

“We still have our fortune!” scoffs a woman at Lacey.

“That’s not an answer.” says Lacey.

“Fine! Germany!” answers a woman.

“When?” asks Lacey.

“The 1700’s.” says another woman.

“Oh! I’m sorry! You were all having fun. I’m just analyzing reality to protect Western Civilization. Don’t mind me. Or if you do don’t attack me for being brilliant compared to you. It’s getting old! I’m done crying for your vanity!” she yells. Grabs her wine. “That wasn’t well worded. Please forgive my clumsiness. I’m sorry.” Then she walks off.

An Englishwoman says. “Well, I like her.”

The aristocrat laughs. Smiles. “Cheers!”

Lacey goes off, up the stairs, witnesses the Sydney Pollack character injecting drugs into Mandy. Watches the man race out in a panic after Mandy collapses.

“We should help.” says Michael. They give her the antidote. She blinks. “Don’t, worry about me.” she says smiling.

“That’s idiotic!” says Lacey. “You’re not okay.”

She cries. “Mom?” she asks.

“No. But it’s nice to hear that.” says Lacey. The doctor arrives.

“Well. What next?” asks Lacey.

“Why the Ottoman Empire?” asks the aristocrat.

“Oh! Don’t let me bother you. You must be busy.” says Lacey.

“Doing what?!” he asks.

“Running the world.” she says.

He smiles. Sighs. “And…so why the Ottoman Empire?”

“It was never truly settled.” she says.

They all think.

“I suppose not enough.” says an Iranian.

“Exactly.” says Lacey, yawning.

“Joe, what’s wrong with Lacey’s pussy? Does she give bad head? What is it? You can tell me.” says Mandy.

“Is it my tits? My chin? My hair? What’s not enough?” asks Lacey.

“You’re too…dull.” he says, his voice falling.

“Oh! As in, I’m boring and good combined?” asks Lacey.

“You don’t cheat. You don’t lie. And when you do…it’s because you’re leaving. Forever. Most likely. And that’s…so…mature and…why would you do that? Who does that? Who cares that much? Or…is that…good?” says Joe.

“I’m not exciting. To you.” says Lacey.

“You lack artistic brilliance. You lack beauty or sexuality.” he says. “Or that’s what I would have thought.”

“That’s idiotic.” says Lacey.

“Joe…who were the Ottomans?” asks the aristocrat.

Lacey blinks, sleepily suddenly. Walks off.

And of course, Lacey makes it down the stairs holding the bottle, perfectly.

“We are angry.” says an Ottoman to Lacey.

She lays her bottle on a coffee table. Lays back on a chaise. Smiles.

“Oh how yummy. Do go on.” she says.

“We hate evil too. For Allah.” he says.

“Do you want to kill me? Or what?” she asks, sitting-up, annoyed.

“Or what huh?” he asks.

“Damn, get it over with. You’re boring me.” she says. “I’ve been so tortured there’s not much of me left. Be careful not to waste it, jackass.” She laughs. “I’m lucky that way. I was raised without love. By Vikings. But I’m not a heavy bitch, fucker.”

“Oh no.” he says. “I’m being serious.”

“A Holy War?” she asks. “Or what?” She thinks. “Ice?”

He smiles. “You know, God might want you to be happy.”

She weeps as much as she can. “See…now you’ve ruined your evil.”

“God. Not Allah.” says Lacey.

The man cries. Throws his hands up.

“What is wrong with me?” she asks.

He points upstairs. To Joe.

“Yes.” she says.

“You’re not classy and sassy!” says a man in their company.

She laughs.

“He lied.” the man says, finally.

“But what’s wrong with me?” asks Lacey.

“Possibly nothing. You’re just you. And he might not like you.” He thinks. “And maybe you’re too feminine for him.”

“Pat can’t handle that.” says the man that commented before.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because Greta is feminine. And Madonna less so. And some men…like that. I guess.” he says.

“That’s not what I would have imagined.” says Lacey.

“I know.” says Paul.

“Well…I can’t sort that out. Not easily.” says Lacey.

“I know!” says the man.

“Why would you paint in a bathroom?” asks the man.

“Because I was feeling suicidal.” says Lacey.

“Where would you paint otherwise?” asks the man in their company.

“In a proper room.” says Lacey. She thinks. “Unless you have careful servants it’s a messy endeavor.”

“Like…not even outside?” asks the man their company.

“No. It’s messy. And no one cares anymore about art enough to get that messy.” says Lacey.

“What about kids?” asks the man.

“That’s why they molest them. Because their brain’s and souls are threatening and they lost their minds and souls in adolescence.” says Lacey.

“And they don’t understand art? Or they lie about it?”

“They don’t see almost anything.”

“But I loved you!” says Joe in the doorway.

“Then why weren’t you good in bed?” asks Lacey. “It was weird.”

“This is a vile conversation.” says the man.

“What was wrong with it?” asks Joe.

“It was like…you needed to act your way through. It wasn’t real.” says Lacey.

“I’m sorry you had to find out my lies that way.” says Joe.

“You didn’t act with other women. You gave them your love. Why were you so odd with me?” asks Lacey.

“Because they were more masculine and more loved by their parents.” he says.

“He sucked your brain like a leech.” says a woman.

“Why do you need women who were loved by their parents?” asks a witch.

“Because that’s what we do. Polos. Yachting. Drugs… Sex. Good hair. Badass attitudes… And parental love.” says Joe. “It’s our elite aesthetic.”

“Do you need Lem?” asks Mr. Jackson.

Silence.

“I’d like to buy him from you.” he asks.

Silence.

“No, it’s just…I need a Lem. And if you aren’t needing him?”

“How much?” asks HoneyFitz.

Joe looks confused.

“I’m thinking $30 million.”

“60 million.” says the man.

“200 million.” says Michael.

“400 million!” shouts Michael Jackson.

“40 billion.” says a voice.

“2 trillion.” says the IRA.

“Sold.”

And at that the money was funneled back into the hands of the British Aristocracy. And so Lem sits in Dublin. In shock.

“Lem was purchased by the IRA for $2 Trillion.”

“With money given to them by the British Aristocracy.”

“Do they own him now?”

“No. He was just sold to Philip. And then…see…Philip sets him free. That’s how it was apparently settled.”

“So he’s free in London?”

“Yes.”

“But how did they get the money back from the Kennedy’s to give to the British?”

“They never have it to them.”

“They said they’d only pay once Joe Jr. flew the entire family around the world.”

“In shifts.”

“Who refused to get on board the plane?”

“Gideon. Maeve. David. Kick. And all of Jack’s kids.”

“Maeve said she’d rather fly the plane herself.”

“Just think! They could be worth 2 trillion in Purgatory…if only they’d let Joe fly them.”

“It’s over Joe. We’re dead Joe.” says Carolyn.

“Did they even own Lem’s mineral rights?” asks a UND student.

“They always will. He sold his soul.” says another student from UND.

“No. It was by accident!” protests a Roosevelt.

“Well, regardless, Prince Philip bought it back.”

“For nothing.” says an Irishman.

“Actually that’s not true. He may have given someone homemade blueberry jam.”

“The berries did do well this year.”

“Lem. What’s it feel like to be a free man?” asks an Irish reporter.

“I should have consulted my lawyers before agreeing to be involved in my sale. I don’t believe I was ever rightly purchased by the Kennedy Family or any of their affiliates.” He blinks. “But I’m relieved I suppose.” He laughs. “I thank the Irish people, the Celts in general, St. Patrick, the English crown, King William The Conqueror of course, my parents, Lacey’s father, God and blueberry growers of the British Isles.” says Lem.

Lacey sits and looks sad.

She listens.

The room is empty except for her.

“This was a tragedy.” she says.

God agrees.

“Don’t ever waste my time.” says Lacey.

“I’m still hurt!” Lem yells at her.

“And yet…” says Michael.

“I’m done.” says Lacey.