Timor mortis conturbat me

Lucas awoke on the 22nd of December in a much greater mood than he had been in weeks. He had finally worked up the courage to ask out Margaret, and things were going great. "The Producers" was well on it's way to becoming the Sawmill Theatre's greatest performance yet. Lucas ate a quick breakfast and headed out the door to the Theatre.

For the first time in months, he was enjoying his work. This was of course, due to two reasons. First, the former owner of his half of the theatre died. The owner knew how much Lucas enjoyed the performing arts, and being rather humanistic, gave Lucas full ownership of the stage. He was glad that Heather, the owner of the cinema on the other half of the Sawmill Theatre, was courteous enough to abstain from screening movies while plays were being performed (and practiced). Maybe he would offer her a free ticket to "The Producers." She seemed nice enough. The second reason, of course, was that Margaret worked at the Theatre with him.

As soon as he stepped outside, he heard the faint ringing out a bell. Not wanting to seem to eager to get to work, he decided to investigate. He trudged through the thick snowfall and found the source of the ringing coming from outside of Isabella's Cafe. There, a man standing in a Salvation Army outfit, wearing headphones, was loudly clanging the bell. As he drew closer, he noticed that music was blaring from the man's headphones. Christmas music to be precise. "You better watch out, you better not cry..." The lyrics were floating around in a strangely disembodied manner. He tossed some change into the donation bucket, and started walking away. "What's your favorite color?" yelled the blind man. "What?" said Lucas. "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?" he said back. It was a line from "Elf", a personal favorite Christmas movie for Lucas. And, he recalled, a favorite of Margaret's too. Maybe he'd invite her to watch it sometime.

When he got to Sawmill Theatre, Margaret hollered down from the catwalk. She needed him to adjust a few lights. He headed up the ladder as she headed down. He began adjusting the lights, letting his mind wander. It was a pretty easy task. He thought about being the owner of his half of the theatre, and how it really didn't mean anything. He still couldn't get a word in edgewise about the plays that went on, that was up to the producer. Unfortunately for Lucas, he was tragically distracted, and in the midst of his thoughts he accidentally pulled a cord half out of a socket. The lights he was working with were incredibly high voltage. That's when he electrocuted himself. Every muscle in his body tensed up and relaxed simultaneously. Then he slumped down on the catwalk. He lay there, in a half alive state, and the world around him seemed to stop. Every detail of his life became clear, and everything around him was intensified. He lay there, feeling like he was everywhere and nowhere all at once. The air seemed thick and nearly electric, his skin burned. Every individual slat on the catwalk seemed 10 feet wide and he felt like he was falling, eventually feeling the hard metal of the catwalk against his back once again. He heard swirls of voices, or a voice, he wasn't sure because the sounds surrounded him, while simultaneously seeming far away. Slowly the terrifying near death feelings faded, and he slipped back into reality. Margaret was crouched by his side, telling him that he was okay. The snow prevented any medical help from arriving on scene, but as minutes past, he felt better. Eventually he felt safe, the catwalk beneath him felt solid, and he could breath and control his thoughts. He had thoughts. The terrifying part of living on the cusp of death was the absence of thought, being replaced by mere feeling.

cui prodest

A few days later, Lucas awoke to the sound of a loud murmuring accompanied by the scratchy noise of what sounded like a megaphone coming from outside. Confused and intrigued, Lucas decided to head outside to see what the noise was.

In the field next to the Apartments stood 11 Occupy protesters. Not that they really had anything to protest against in this town. "Sometimes people just want to be a part of something" thought Lucas. He really hated the Occupy protesters, because he knew that most of them had no idea what they were protesting for. In most cases, he thought, they were only making matters worse for themselves. The man with the megaphone was ranting nonsensically while the protesters stood around and cheered maniacally. What was odd to him was that there were only 11 people, but 12 tents. He snickered to himself when he remembered that a U.F.O sighting was reported weeks ago. "They were abducted, obviously" he thought sarcastically to himself. Lucas wasn't one to believe in the paranormal, "he probably just went to pick up some snacks for his little angry friends" he thought mockingly. While he thought such things regularly, he didn't have the courage to say his thoughts aloud.

Lucas went into the 24-hour coffee shop to grab a pastry for breakfast. Luckily, it was open again. When he entered, he noticed it was seriously understaffed. He asked the barista "so why were you guys closed the other day?" while he was ordering his food. "Haven't you heard? A big epidemic is going around, they think it's swine flu" said the barista. "Gee, I thought swine flu was over with a few years ago...well, at least you're open again. Have a good day" "You too!" said the barista.

While Lucas was walking back to his apartment, he passed the abandoned building, and slowed down when he heard strange metallic, banging noises coming from inside. They were almost rhythmic. He passed it off as nothing, blaming it on the nature of old buildings, and continued to his apartment. When he arrived, he noticed a new message was on his answering machine. "Hey Lucas, it's Margaret from the Theatre. I have awesome news for you! We're putting on a new play! And guess whose play it is!" That's all Lucas needed to hear, he dropped his pastry on the table and ran out the door to the Theatre. Unfortunately, Lucas didn't hear the rest of the message "Your favorite playwright, Mel Brooks! It's going to be The Producers! I can't wait to hear your reaction! See you tonight, ciao!"

Lucas's thoughts ran through his head faster than he could process them "finally I'll get my name in lights! I'll be a renowned playwright in this hellhole of a town!"

Dark clouds were forming on the horizon, quickly covering the sun and bringing huge amounts of rain.

When he arrived, Margaret was waiting for him at the door for him. "I can't believe it!" Lucas shouted, "my play! My play will be going on this stage for the whole town to see!" "Haha, well Lucas, I wouldn't exactly call it your play..." said Margaret. "Well what do you mean...I wrote it." "Oh Lucas...oh my...I'm so sorry, did you not get my whole message? We're putting on The Producers, your favorite play!" "Oh." said Lucas. "You thought it was your play? Don't worry, it will be someday...soon. If you do a really good job with this one, maybe the director will look at yours!" said Margaret. "Yeah, I'm sure if she's impressed with my light cues she'll want to read my fucking plays." "I'm sorry Luke! Don't get so angry...it's Mel Brooks after all." "Yeah. Okay, that's good at least." "See? Things aren't so bad. Put everything in perspective every once in a while. Otherwise you'll get lost in your mind." said Margaret. "Hah thanks, I'll start changing the bulbs in the lights."

After hours of terribly tedious work, Lucas decided that he needed to eat dinner. He left the theatre and headed to Casa d'Waffle to get a bite to eat, all the while walking in a torrential downpour. On the way back he noticed a warm glow coming from the building near the theatre. When he got closer, he saw the the entire Forever 21 was ablaze. Even the massive front wasn't making a dent on the raging fire. The fire department was working tirelessly on controlling the flames. "Someone probably doused the whole thing in gas and set it off. Too bad I didn't think of that" thought Lucas.

He entered the Theatre and once again, there stood Margaret. "Quite a downpour, eh?" she said. "Quite a fire, eh? I think someone set it off themselves" he answered. "Too bad I didn't think of that myself" "Haha that's exactly what I was thinking!" Lucas laughed.