Obviously, we had to watch the second one this year.

I am a person who likes to be prepared before I get metaphorically punched in the face with bad art house torture porn, so I came to the party prepared with the knowledge that the HC2 was not only more violent and even more graphic, it was also basically made as a big “fuck you” to the critics of the first film.

I really enjoy that mentality. “You criticize my film? Here’s the SAME MOVIE BUT 1000 TIMES WORSE.”. I respect that. It’s ballsy, hilarious, and completely explains most of what happens.

So. It was awful to sit through. I actually discovered something about myself– I can’t sit when watching graphic violence. I have to stand. I think it’s something with my fight-or-flight reaction. I’m mentally preparing to get the fuck out of there in case some shit goes down.

We sat through the entire movie (I stood) and when it ended, there was a tangible combination of guilt, disgust and absolute triumph and not having thrown up. I think we all needed a shower as well.

I came home and thought about what I’d just seen (repeatedly, because SOME THINGS YOU CAN’T UNSEE) and I realized– for all of its faults, failings,and OH FUCK moments, on some level, this movie is absolutely genius.

Yes, the plot is ridiculous: Super-Creepy Creepmaster McCreepypants is obsessed with The Human Centipede and decides to try and create the original doctor’s “master plan” of connecting 12 individuals into one ass-to-mouth masterpiece. Spoiler: he does.

The tongue-in-cheek (or is it butt-to-cheek SEE WHAT I DID THERE) plot is so self-referential and masturbatory that I accepted it, without question, because why the hell would anyone NOT become completely obsessed with the Human Centipede and decide to make his own using kitchen tools and a staple gun?

That’s it. That’s the whole plot. There’s not really any sort of b-story where Chandler can’t get to the drycleaners on time and so Joey and Rachel are going to be late to dinner or anything, it’s just….some pasty fat guy doing terrible, terrible things to much more attractive people.

But let’s start there. First off, the movie’s protagonist(?), Martin, is a psychotic, anti-social, maybe retarded, pasty, sweaty, beady-eyed, balding creep-o with weird creepy fingers. Literally everything about him is unsettling and slightly off (including his underwear– BA BOW!), but there is still (and I still haven’t figured out if this is just fucking brilliant acting or me making this movie way deeper than it needs to be), something about his portrayal of the character that makes you feel bad for the guy. He’s cutting apart buttholes and part of you still wants him to succeed because you’re given just enough of his backstory to want to give him a hug (and some serious fucking therapy). And then you start wondering when it was, exactly, that he snapped and start wondering about the guy who works at the gas station across the street.

That’s the brilliance of it. The natural pity we feel gets thrown the fuck back in our face less than 20 seconds into the film,but you spend the entire movie thinking “is he actually going to do it/get away with it/make it out?”

It’s the Hannibal Lector Technique: The less you know, the more you want to understand.

Another particularly brilliant choice was the complete lack of dialog from Martin. Sure, he cries, laughs, screams in frustration, does a couple of awkward dance moves and kills the fuck out of like 15 people, but he NEVER SAYS A GODDAMN WORD. He. Just. Stares.

Creepysauce.

So Martin decides to make a human centipede and does it. That’s basically the rest of the film.

Many critics were aghast at the level of extreme, graphic violence depicted in the film. I’m not going to lie, it is absolutely awful to sit through. Just about every awful thing that you could imagine happens in this film and sometimes twice because FUCK YOU is why.

Jake, who can sit through the most violent of horror films without batting an eye and is directing goddamn Titus Andronicus, nearly puked on the sofa a couple of times, and I spent many moments buried in his sweatshirt so I didn’t have to watch.

I’m not going to turn this into a soapbox debate of what connotates a good or a bad movie, but I will say this.

How many movies have you seen where you watch it, figure out the plot 20 minutes in, wait for the inevitable romantic ending/robot fight ending, shrug, and forget that you saw it three days later? I’ve seen tons of movies with Jake, and we still occasionally have that moment of “Did we see that in the theater? I think we did. I can’t remember”.

I’m not saying that The Human Centipede 2 is going to share a box set with Citizen Cane and Gone With the Wind any time soon, that would be too awesome  to ever actually happen.

What I will argue is that where the Human Centipede 2 comes through is that it drags the audience kicking and screaming in to a realm of absolute, undeniable visceral response.Yes, the movie is disgusting. Yes, it’s spectacularly violent, bloody, rapey and questionable for small children and born-again Christians to watch, but I’ve never sat through a movie that made me actually sweat before.

I am notorious for my “this is just a stupid movie” response. I was forced to watch Passion of the Christ in high school because “to understand the power of Easter, we have to understand what Our Savior truly went through”, and I sat there the entire time going, “Oh, hey, that’s the hot guy from The Count Of Monte Cristo”. It is difficult, if not impossible, for me to suspend my disbelief long enough to enjoy a film, and the thought of “there’s obviously a blood pack up his sleeve” occurred to me during this film exactly 0 times.

Yes, there were times when the “LET’S SEE HOW RIDICULOUSLY VIOLENT WE CAN BE BECAUSE FUCK YOU, AUDIENCE” got a little extreme. [Put your own poop joke here], and yes, I am still looking into ways of bleaching my corneas,

But I liked it.
Mom will be so proud.

Now, I will say the ending (which I looked up on Wikipedia afterwards and they said the same thing so I know I’m right), is purposefully ambiguous. There is nothing more infuriating than an ambiguous ending. I won’t spoil it in case any of you sick fucks reading want to see it, but there are two options on how to interpret the ending.

Wait, I’m going to, right now. Here I go.
Don’t read this part if you want to be suprized.
Darth Vader is Luke’s father.
Why are you still reading, I thought you wanted to be suprized.
Fine.

The movie ends with Martin cleaned up in his work uniform and sitting back at his computer, watching the end credits of The Human Centipede. This implies ones of two options: Option A: Since before the whole “make a centipede” goes down, we see him sitting in his work uniform starting the film, it can be interpreted as “He just imagined the whole thing”. Option B: He got away, cleaned himself up and is back to the drawing board on how to make it possible.

I’m going to rant here and say that I fucking HATE “It was all a dream” endings. They are the worst cop-out cheap-o bad-writing stupid endings ever and completely invalidate everything you just say through.

Earlier today, I had the realization that in the end, in this rare case, it doesn’t matter. Why?

If the movie ends with Option A, then holy shit, this guy is seriously, seriously fucked up and he is ON THE STREETS and WANTS TO ATTACH YOUR MOUTH TO A BUTT. Also, I JUST WATCHED THIS WHOLE @%”*($&#%* MOVIE FOR NOTHING AND I WANT TO THROW UP.

If the movie ends with option B, the see above.

Well played, Human Centipede.

Well played.

I found out I was playing Lavinia in September, and (admittedly) I had over-researched the character by June. There was just something fantastically interesting about the character, and something about the challenge of the vulnerability and pain the character goes through really fascinated me.

With the childhood experiences that I had, it’s just really weird that I’m cast as Lavinia. Don’t worry, I wasn’t raped or anything, but my mom is the sole prosecutor of all rape/molestation/pedophile cases for Rock Island country, so growing up, I was raised in this stringent household of absolute victim’s rights and respect for these women. I remember coming home to the dining room table covered in boxes, and when I finally made the connection that each one of those boxes represented a rape victim, it just devastated me that so many “bad” people were out there in the world. Now I’m playing, really, the quinticential “rape” victim, and the silencing that Lavinia goes through, both metaphorically and literally has been really hard for me to deal with.

My instinct is just to go tell my mom so she can put the assholes in jail. Doing research on the show, it’s been eye-opening to see the level of silencing that sexual assault victims have in our country. In my little world, every victim has a voice, but really, that’s almost the opposite of what is true.

It’s annoying. “Oh, are you ‘juicing?” “Did you juice today?” “What’s your juicing goal?” I don’t know, what’s your solid food goal?

Every time someone sees me drinking my (delicious) breakfast/lunch of homemade juice, I get asked about my “juicing lifestyle”.

I don’t have a juicing lifestyle. I just decided it was high time to start eating vegetables, and this seemed like the most practical way to do it.

I watched the documentary “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead” and it was fantastic. I started looking into juicers that day, but it wasn’t a financial possibility until my wonderful boyfriend bought me a juicer for Christmas. We decided to start trying to eat a little healthier and get a little more exercise, but that was it.

I also did a ton of research before I plowed right in, because I didn’t want to wind up with more health problems than I started with. The problem is, it seems to me, that there is a lack of what I shall call “moderate” juicers, who enjoy a glass or two during the day, but don’t make it their life’s goal to subside solely on juice.

I learned early on that an “all or nothing” approach was not going to work for me. Why? One, because I lived for about 6 years in an eating disordered all-or-nothing mindset and it. doesn’t. work. Eventally, I became so fixated on what I wanted/couldn’t have because it’s was “going to make me fat” that about 4 foods were “safe” for me to eat. Sending myself down the same path of deprivation is a very simple thing to do, and the “juicing lifestyle’ promoted on the internet is one, that, I’m sure for some works wonderfully, but for me, it’s too easy to fall back into old habits.

I also just really like steak. Steak with crusted with garlic butter and parmesean cheese with a side of rosemary roasted potatoes. And as much as I love my veggie juice, carrot juice is not a medium rare steak fresh off of the grill.

Making healthy choices is distinctly different task for me. I still struggle to see any difference between moderation and deprivation: In reality, there is no such thing as a ”bad” food, there are just foods that should be eaten less often and in smaller amounts. Sometimes foods! (I’m sure Big Macs and DoubleDowns could be listed as “bad foods”.) However, that is far easier said than practiced, especially with our busy schedules and after-rehearsal late-night dinners.

Do I feel better since I stated drinking juice? Yes!
Have I lost weight? Shit yeah.
Does it taste good? Actually, it’s really good. And I’m super picky.

Am I going to become one of those obnoxious youtubers trying to convert everyone I know to juice cleansing? No, because I’m not a hippie.

Do I consider myself as “juicing”? No, I consider myself as someone who is actively taking steps to better their own health one small choice at a time. But that takes longer to say.

It’s like a venn diagram with no intersection.

Writing my statement of purpose has been a terrifying adventure into “real life”. It’s getting a taste of a completely different new life, and knowing that there are still a huge number of variables that need to fall into place before anything happens.

I’ve been working on my statement of purpose for ….a long time, and it’s still not exactly right. It’s getting close, but there are so many possibilities of the stories I could share, the reasons I have for following my passions, the hopes I have…and it’s frustrating as hell because I don’t know what they’re looking for or if what I choose to say will sound exactly like every other hopeful applying to the same school.

But here’s what I’ve got so far. The ending is crap, don’t judge me.

THE PROMPT: 

In an essay of 250 – 500 words, state your purpose in undertaking graduate study in your chosen field. Include your academic objectives, research interests, and career plans. Also discuss your related qualifications, including collegiate, professional, and community activities, and any other substantial accomplishments not already mentioned on the application.

My desire to continue my exploration of classical theatre and my determination to better myself through a focus on classical acting comes down to one terrible Midsummer.

It was a really bad production. Most of the show had been slashed and rewritten to accommodate an impossible time limit, the actors were mostly drunk, there were no lights, costumes or set, and the audience was jammed into a tiny tent with an incredibly loud waitstaff while the show went on–outside– in the pouring rain. And I, with bright blue hair and more raw enthusiasm than actual skill, was Helena.

We were a group of passionate (and very broke) actors who had aspirations far beyond anything we were actually capable of, but we were determined to pull it off. And while the end product may not have been entirely extraordinary, it taught me more about myself and what fuels my passion for acting more than any other role I have ever undertaken.

It was an intensely challenging, frustrating and, I found, enthralling process. With only two weeks to pull the entire show together, I found that the faster and more chaotic things got, the more the text and language became the calming focus and drive behind my work. I dove, wholeheartedly, into exploring the mathematical patterns and meticulate word choice that lent such absolute, simple beauty and honesty to every speech.

Before Helena, I had acted in a number of Shakespearean plays, but this was the first time that something “clicked” so well and so entirely. I attribute much of this to the two-week intensive verse and text workshop I took with Andrew Wade. Not only did this expand my knowledge on the importance of verse and text work, it also marked my first contact with someone who got to “do Shakespeare” every day. That, more than anything is what I wish to achieve my own life— the ability to follow my passion for Shakespeare’s work every day and share that enthusiasm with others through both performance and outreach education.

Since then, I have leapt at every opportunity to further my knowledge and experience in classical acting. I realize, of course, that a well-rounded classical actor’s training is not just confined to Shakespeare. I have been lucky enough to have opportunity to explore various theatrical techniques and schools, and what attracts me to the [grad school I am choosing] is the dualities between a modern, physical focus and classical technique and theory.

In January 2011, I had the incredible opportunity to perform my own verse at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. While my style may be far from Shakespearean, this experience only intensified my desire to encompass a deeper understanding of performance technique and to continue to grow as an artist.

Elia Kazan, the Tony-Award winning director of the revolutionary Broadway productions of “All My Sons” and “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof” once said that to be a successful creative artist, “[..you’ve got to see] how much you have to know and what kind of a bastard you have to be. How hard you have to train yourself and in how many different ways. All of which I did. I’ve never stopped trying to educate myself and to improve myself.”

The sum of my experiences thus far is eclectic and varied. I have written, directed, performed, worked production, designed and taught. However, where my true passion lies—where I wish to improve and educate myself, is in where I truly feel my passion—classical acting.

Although, in a way, I suppose it’s a good thing…sort of.

This year has been a ridiculous rush through a million changes, experiences and events. I’m pretty happy with out things have turned out.

At some point, I will start updating on a more frequent basis, but for now, while theatre is owning my soul, I will be thankful for the opportunity to be busy and grateful for the stories I wil be able to share…whether or not they ever made it onto my blog.

I remember looking up at him and going “But that’s stupid—A is yellow”.

It was in that moment that my understanding of my perceptions on the world shifted forever.  Hours of research later, I have come to realize that some things that I take for granted in every day life are things that most other people don’t understand.

I have always attributed certain colors to certain letters, but more than that, different combinations of letters and words create different patterns of color in my mind.  A lot of people ask me why I read upside down. I am a FAST reader—but especially when I am reading something especially “vivid” (Shakespeare, for example, is just absolutely gorgeous—and the colors always work out. more on that later), I get so distracted by the colors that I get lost in what I’m reading….so I discovered that if I turn whatever I’m reading upside down, I am able to focus less on the colors and instead on the text. I’ve gotten really good at reading upside down–I can read about as fast as I do right side up, but it eliminates the distractions and makes me focus.

It turns out there are like a billion types of synesthesia—pretty much any sense can be “crossed” with another to create a synethestic response. I know that I have the color/letter one, but I also have the color/music kind…which is both awesome and supremely frustrating–if I could have one wish, it would be to be able to share the magnificent colors I experience behind my eyes with the people I love. Last year, for our first date, Jake took me to see the Chicago Symphony play the Rite of Spring. By the end, I was openly weeping–not just because of the music, but because of the incredible picture I got to witness inside of my head.

There are a few works that are particularly fantastic, but it makes sense. Beethoven’s 9th, for example—oh, man. But most scholars think that Beethoven himself probably had this, so I kind of like the idea of him writing music to look at something pretty. What is so awesome about synesthesia is that 100 different people with this will give you a 100 different versions of what the 9th symphony looks like behind their eyes–and they are all right. It’s completely random and always, always beautiful.

The problem is that I see sound most of the time–not just with music. With music it is much more pronounced, but, for example, at parties or in large groups, sometimes the noise and the color can be overwhelming. If a sound or piece of music is particularly powerful, I sometimes will get a “Feeling” with it as well–Lincolnshire Posy, for example—is this gorgeous, rich blue and it feels like the ocean.

I also get freaked out by large things—(insert joke here…done? okay. good)–they “feel” wrong. Things like wind turbines and water towers are terrifying to me.

A lot of people ask me why I dye my hair blue. I usually give them a stupid answer, but the truth is….I’ve figured out how to shade my hair into different shades of blue…and if you look at me from the front, my hair is my name in “synesthesia-ist”.

I bought you a rug
to cover the hardwood of the entry
because it was getting scuffed and scarred and walked all over
and I knew how it felt

I laid it out
gently and taped it down
so as to let it settle right
like my mom would say

and you came home
and you noticed
and I pretended like it was no big deal
but I didn’t tell you
was that that rug
represented the last 20 dollars in my bank account
but I wanted you to have it
because that’s how I show you
everything you must already know
by offering you everything I have
like a little kid with crumpled dandelions in her fist
shyly scuffing her feet
over a plain brown rug

Lesson: stick to slam.

I’ve seen a lot of sad things in my life. I’ve seen my dad die of cancer and I’ve seen the repercussions on my mother. I can replay his funeral like some sick home video in my head, minute by minute, starting at the funeral home. We were trying to decide between an open and closed casket–my dad had lost most of his hair, but my mom I think wanted closure–give people something to see, instead of just a box–and so we met with the funeral director before the ceremony to decide what to do.

What they don’t tell you about embalming is that sometimes it can go horribly wrong. Our funeral director managed to fix my dad’s face, but he couldn’t fix his hands. My dad had these big hands. Rough, gentle, gigantic–but when he opened the casket, my father’s hands had withered into these shriveled things—and I couldn’t look at his face– I just kept starting at his hands and I just kept thinking “this isn’t my dad this isn’t my dad this isn’t my dad”…and it’s stupid, but in that moment, I convinced myself so thoroughly that that man in the casket wasn’t my father that when we arrived at the church for his funeral, I was surprised.

And still, I was sitting there,  unaffected, replaying these scenes in my head, time ticking by before my stupid entrance, and I thought to myself–”okay, Catie. What’s the most horrible, awful, terrible thing that you can imagine happening to you right now?”.

And I realized, in that moment, that the worst thing I could imagine happening to me is waking up without you next to me.

Enjoy.

My Sweet Pumpkin

I also went as a Twi’lek…

Super nerd!

There will be more on how both of these were achieved later.

By

Catie Osborn

Cast of Characters

Detective Christopher Samuel Ian (or CSI for short). A no-nonsense police detective. He is also dressed like a mummy.

Alfred Servington–the faithful butler of the Skellington family for over 40 years. His father served as a butler as well as his father before him. Some may say that he is a little too attentive to Millicent.

Madame Fortunia Tella–world famous fortune teller..or so she claims. She is a little odd and very mysterious and often communicates with the spirits.

Millicent Skellington–the gorgeous and sometimes overly dramatic lady of the household. Is usually a bit…tipsy.

Osric Skellington– the suave and debonair master of the house. Has a bit of a temper and cares for his family deeply.

Amber Skellington: The black sheep of the skellington family—she’s captain of her college cheerleading squad, and straight A student. She is also hiding a secret.

Dr. Igor VonBeakerstien is the washed up mad scientist who rents a room in the Skellington’s basement where he has set up a laboratory.

Hestor Festor: Our victim. (unseen) Was an up and coming young scientist who was interested in one Ms. Amber Skellington

ACT ONE

Ideally, the audience enters to the sounds of The Dance Macbre or the Headless Waltz or something otherwise mood setting. ALFRED mingles among the guests, welcoming them and assuring them that Madame should be arriving shortly with the Master. As the music swells, he clinks his glass and calls the guests attention to the door.

ALFRED: Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please. The Master and Mistress of Skellington Manor!

At precisely 5:29 in Dance Macabre, the doors burst open and MILLICENT and OSRIC majestically appear.

OSRIC: Greetings everyone.

MILLIE: Welcome to our home, so glad you could make it, etc. etc.

ALFRED: Let the celebration begin!

OSRIC: Splendid party, old man, simply splendid.

MILLIE: Yes, thank you for all of your hard work, Alfred. You’re such a dear. Where’s the bar?

ALFRED: Anything for you…or the rest of the family, Madame. You know I only live to serve.

OSRIC: Alfred, would you be so kind as to run to the cellar and bring us a little celebratory drink? After all, this is a party…and I would want no one else here by my side then you, my beautiful, beautiful darling.

MILLIE: Alfred, have you seen Amber?

ALFRED: I’m afraid not, Madame. I’ll send her here at once if I should happen to see her.

OSRIC: That wine, Alfred.

ALFRED: At once, sir.

Alfred bows and exits.

MILLIE: What a lovely party, darling. Oh no–here he comes. Look busy…look busy….oh, he’s spotted us.

OSRIC: Not another lecture on the inaccuracies of Frankenstein…I can’t stand it. Who invited him?

MILLIE: Well he is a tenant, darling. It would be rude not to invite him.

OSRIC: Isn’t it rude to force the rest of our guests to listen to him babble on about his silly experiments. He’s such a bore.

MILLIE: He’s a bore who is helping make the world a better place.

OSRIC: A better boring place.

DR. IGOR: Greetings, landlords!

MILLIE & OSRIC: Hello, Dr. VonBeakerstein.

DR. IGOR: And a happy anniversary to you!

MILLIE: Thank you, Doctor.

DR. IGOR: Incidentally, this night is another anniversary as well!

OSRIC: Oh, really? Do tell us. We’re so very interested.

DR. IGOR: Yes! On this very night in 1879 the very first light bulb was illuminated by the famous Thomas Edison …imagine, will you? The world, bathed in darkness, and then, suddenly, this great scientist, with the flip of a switch illuminates a nation–creates light with his very hands—his named indelibly etched upon the tomes of history, a legend, a master of—-!

The lights go out.

The following lines are yelled in the dark:

OSRIC: You were saying?

DR. IGOR: Well, that’s odd.

MILLIE: I do so love the dark…

DR: IGOR: Oh! My goodness! (this should imply that Millie perhaps pinched his bum in the dark!)

OSRIC: You stay here, darling. I’m going to go see what’s happened. I’ll go check the fusebox.

The door slams.

MILLIE: I’ll see if I can find some candles.

The door slams again.

DR. IGOR: I’ll stay here…wait for me!

The door slams again.

Just as he says this, the lights flicker back to life, and Alfred bursts into the room shortly after.

ALFRED: Madame, Master…I’m afraid something’s happened. Where did they go?

MILLIE enters, then DR. IGOR, then OSRIC.

OSRIC: Seem to be working again. Good.

MILLIE: What is it, Alfred? You’re as white as a ghost.

DR. IGOR: It is an interesting fact that often when the human mind has received a great shock, there is a response by the parasympathetic nervous system that causes a temporary loss of palour in most-

OSRIC: Yes, thank you doctor. You were saying, Alfred?

ALFRED: Madame, we’re going to have to cancel the party.

OSRIC: Cancel the party, whatever for, Alfred? We’re having such a lively time…

ALFRED: I’m afraid there’s been an accident of some kind.

MILLIE: Oh, dear. Did I drink it all again? That’s alright, Alfred. We’ll send for more wine.

ALFRED: Madame, we need to call the police. I found Hestor dead in the basement.

THUNDER CLAP!!!

MILLIE: What?

OSRIC: Dead?

DR. IGOR: Hestor? Dead? Simply impossible. He was fine a few minutes ago! I was with him in the lab! He said he was going to finish up some work and come join us at the party. This is impossible.

OSRIC: I’m going to call the police. Please excuse me everyone.

Rushes out of the room. As he does, he nearly runs over AMBER, who is just coming in.

MILLIE: Pity. Hestor was always the life of the party.

AMBER: Sorry I’m late. There was a sale at Hot Topic. Notices the somber mood. Sheesh. Some party. Who died?

ALFRED: I’m afraid you’ve arrived at a bad time, Miss Amber. There seems to be a small emergency.

Osric reenters.

OSRIC: I called the police. They’re sending someone over.

AMBER: The police? What happened? What’s going on?

DR. IGOR: It’s Hestor. He’s dead.

THUNDERCLAP!!

AMBER: What? Hestor? Dead? How?

OSRIC: We don’t know anything just yet, darling. We’re waiting for the police to arrive.

MILLIE: I really am sorry, everyone. Death at a party is so terribly unfashionable. Can I borrow that? (downs an audience member’s drink).

OSRIC: Now darling–

MILLIE: Not in front of the guests, dear.

The doorbell gongs a somber tone.

OSRIC: That must be the police. Alfred?

ALFRED exits and returns with a very large mummy.

CSI: Good evening everyone. I’m Detective Christopher Samuel Ingram.

AMBER: I thought you called the police, dad.

OSRIC: I thought I did.

CSI: You’ll forgive the costume. Department Halloween party.

OSRIC: Was everyone else wrapped up at the moment?

MILLIE: I’m sorry…I didn’t catch your name.

CSI: You can call me CSI. All my friends do.

AMBER: Wait….your initials are C.S. I.?

CSI: And?

AMBER: ….never mind.

CSI: We got a call about a body in the basement?

DR. IGOR: That’s right. A few minutes ago we found my assistant… dead.

Thunderclap.

CSI: Does that happen often around here?

OSRIC: You’d be surprised.

CSI: And who found the body?

ALFRED: That would be me, sir.

CSI: Were you alone at the time?

ALFRED: Yes. I was sent to fetch a bottle of red for the lady.

OSRIC: It’s our anniversary. We were going to have a toast.

CSI: Any witnesses?

OSRIC: Not that we know of.

CSI: Can we head down there? My guys should be done taking away the body and I’d like to ask a few questions before it gets to be too late.

But before they can, the door bell gongs again. ALFRED exits and returns with an eccentrically dressed FORTUNIA TELLA.

ALFRED: I’m sorry, she insisted she be let in.

TELLA: The spirits summoned to me, beckoned me to come here, to this house, on this night, when the fullness of the moon is obscured by storm and cloud.

AMBER: Thank god for that.

CSI: What does that mean?

MILLIE: Nothing, Detective. Just a little family joke.

OSRIC: I’m sorry, did I miss something? Who’s the hippie?

TELLA: I am Madame Fortunia Tella,. I was beckoned to come here by the spirits, sent to deliver a message of great importance by an angry soul.

MILLIE: Ms…Tella? What exactly is it that you do?

TELLA: I am a communicator for the spirits. And a purveyor of fine Avon products. (To an audience member) By the way, if you’d like me to do your colors, I would be more than happy to give you my cards.

AMBER: Mom, why is the Avon lady holding a snow globe?

TELLA: This is no snow globe! This is a device with which to commune with the spirits, to speak with lost souls and wandering spirits…to conduct the mournful sighs of long lost ghosts so that we mere mortals may hear and understand.

AMBER: Wow. So there’s an app for that?

CSI: Ms. Tella, I’m afraid I’m a little confused. What exactly are you doing here?

TELLA: I told you, I was sent by the spirits who wander lost in the–

CSI: Right, we got that part.

TELLA: I come with a message from an angry spirit. I sense death in this house.

OSRIC: And I suppose the coroner’s van out front had nothing to do with it.

TELLA: Certainly not. I am a psychic, not some purveyor of cheap tricks.

MILLIE: No, just make-up. Pours herself another.

TELLA: If you are not in need of my services then I will adjourn elsewhere.

CSI: Hold it right there, lady. Who’d you say this message is from?

TELLA: I can’t tell you that.

CSI: And when exactly did you receive this message?

TELLA: Upon the dawning of the midnight hour, when the mists of—

CSI: Ahem. The time?

TELLA: About 10:36.

CSI: That’s pretty precise for a wandering spirit.

TELLA: The spirits work in mysterious ways, unfettered by human law.

OSRIC: I’m not sure there are any spirits involved in this circumstance.

ALFRED: Sir, if I may make a suggestion—

MILLIE: Certainly, Alfred. You know we think of you as family.

ALFRED: Thank you, Madame. What I suggest is that we at least hear the woman out. She might have some valuable information.

AMBER: Yeah, valuable information from the spirit world.

TELLA: What I do is no joke, young lady. The spirit world is like a dark and hazy maze, difficult to navigate and wrought with peril.

AMBER: So are your metaphors.

OSRIC: Amber, darling, temper. Put your claws away, dear. There’s no need for that now.

MILLIE: Amber, why don’t you excuse yourself for the time being. I believe the detective wanted to see the lab.

AMBER: But I don’t want to–

OSRIC: Amber, it looks like it’s starting to clear up outside. Why don’t you go look at the stars from your room? I know how much you like the night sky

AMBER: But dad–

ALFRED: Miss Amber, let me see you safely to your chamber.

MILLIE: Shall we go, officer?

CSI: Yes, thank you. Let’s get started.

It is at this point that (ideally) the audience is led to the downstairs “laboratory”. The following scene occurs here.

CSI: Alright. I know some of these questions are going to be difficult to answer, but please bear with me. Who was the last person to see him alive?

DR. IGOR: I suppose that would be me.

CSI: And when was that?

DR. IGOR: Around 10:30, I suppose. We were finishing up some—bloodwork—and then we were going to head to the party. I went into my room to change into my good lab coat and Hestor said he would join me shortly, after he finished transcribing some notes.

CSI: What sort of lab is this, Doctor?

DR. IGOR: Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that…

MILLIE: Detective, what happened to Hestor? Or…what was left of him?

CSI: We’ve taken the remains to the morgue to be analyzed.

OSRIC: Analyzed? Analyzed how?

CSI: We need to determine the cause of death to figure out just what exactly happened down here. Do you always leave the windows open, Doctor?

DR. IGOR: Windows? No. We use a mac down here. Much more reliable.

MILLIE: No, doctor. The window.

DR. IGOR: That’s strange….

CSI: What is it?

DR. IGOR: We never open that window. We deal with delicate samples down here, detective. We can’t risk contamination.

TELLA: Perhaps Hestor grew weary of the stuffy air and sought to welcome in the fresh air of an autumn night.

OSRIC: Or perhaps whoever killed him came in through that window.

CSI: Now, Mr. Skellington, please don’t jump to any conclusions. For all we know, Mr. Festor died of natural causes.

TELLA: There is an angry spirit here, Detective. I think his death was far from natural. No, I think it violent and bloody. Very, very bloody.

MILLIE: And why would you think such a thing?

TELLA: The spirits beckon me here….no….here….wait, no….it is here.

OSRIC: You mean where this big yellow evidence tag says blood spatter was found?

TELLA: I merely speak for the spirits.

MILLIE: Particularly the unobservant ones.

CSI: This says that the blood spatter came from a concentrated source. Hestor was probably holding a vial or container and dropped it when he fell.

DR. IGOR: All of our blood samples are kept in this forced condensational cooling unit.

CSI: That looks like a refrigerator filled with leftovers.

DR. IGOR: To the untrained eye it may appear that this is a refrigerator but to a scientist it is apparent that this is a far more technologically advanced—that’s funny.

CSI: Doctor?

DR. IGOR: There appears to be a blood sample missing. Several, actually.

TELLA: I sense that you are confused. Do not be afraid. All will become clear.

OSRIC: How do you know?

DR. IGOR: This is Hestor’s shelf. I saw him receive this sample rack earlier this week, and it was full. Now there are two missing.

CSI: Received a bunch of blood samples? Why?

DR. IGOR: He often would do extra work for the local labs to pick up extra spending money. You know how it is. Lab assistants don’t make much, and a student needs a little extra spending cash.

MILLIE: But I don’t understand. Why would anyone steal a container of blood?

TELLA: The spirits speak! Tained blood! Cursed blood! Blood of a beast!

CSI: What is that supposed to mean?

TELLA: I merely speak when spoken to, Detective. You’ll forgive me if the message I relay is a bit strange.

OSRIC: I think the only strange thing here is that we’re listening to this woman.

Alfred returns.

ALFRED: Master Osric, Miss Amber is safely and soundly sleeping.

MILLIE: Poor dear. She’s had a trying day.

DR. IGOR: You’ll forgive me, Detective, but there is something else.

CSI: Yes?

DR. IGOR: It seems that there are some pages missing from Hestor’s notebook. See, here? This is dated a week ago. Hestor kept immaculate notes. To have a whole week missing is unheard of. And here, this pile of folders–Hestor kept them in order of date received–and these are all mixed up. It seems someone went through them.

OSRIC: So? A few pages from a nerd’s notebook are missing. What does this have to do with anything?

DR. IGOR: It has to do with everything! Whatever is on those pages must be what incriminates the person who did this.

CSI: We still don’t know whether or not Hestor was—

The detective’s cell phone rings. He answers it.

CSI: This is Ingram. Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you. He hangs up. That was the lab. Hestor was murdered.

Thunderclap!

Alfred: Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.

End Act 1.

Act 2

MILLIE: I can’t believe it. I won’t. Who would do such an awful thing?

TESSA: An angry spirit haunts this house.

OSRIC: Tell your spirits that they can wait until I’ve had another drink. Grabs one from an audience member and says.. I really am sorry about all of this. Terrible thing to happen at a party. Although I suppose you’ve been to worse.

CSI: Right now we need to focus on piecing together exactly what’s going on. According to the test results, Hestor was injected with potassium chloride. It would have only taken a second for someone to slip down to the lab and kill him.

MILLIE: How awful.

CSI: Right now I need everyone to help me go through these files from the lab.

DR. IGOR: You had no right to disturb my lab.

CSI: As far as I’m concerned, I’ll disturb whatever I need to to sort this mess out.

TESSA: The spirits are disturbed! They wish to speak!

MILLIE: Oh, please. I’ve had my fair share of spirits tonight already. Although I suppose a few more can’t hurt. drinks.

TESSA: Listen to what I say! An angry spirit is here, now. We must take this opportunity to learn what it knows!

OSRIC: What do you think, darling?

DR. IGOR: Paranormal activity is a science still yet fully explored. While there is some evidence that states that —

OSRIC: The other darling, Doctor.

MILLIE: And how do you suppose we commune with this spirit? Can we ask your I-crystal?

TELLA: Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll hold a séance.

CSI: It’s up to you folks. At this point I’m willing to believe anything.

TESSA: That’s the idea.

MILLIE: What was that?

TELLA: We must keep an open mind in communicating with the spirits, or they may leave us.

OSRIC: Alfred, check and see if Amber’s feeling up to participating. We may need her there. You might also check the forecast for the rest of the evening.

ALFRED: Yes, sir. At once.

At this time the audience is taken to the “séance room” where the following scene takes place..

TELLA: Sprit! Spirit hear us! Speak to us now

AMBER: This is so dumb. And where did all this stuff come from? It looks like Pier One threw up in here.

OSRIC: Shhhhh.

AMBER: But dad—

OSRIC: Let’s just get this over with.

TELLA: spirit! Hear us! Hear us now! We wish to learn!

Suddenly something really creepy and epic happens. We’ll talk special effects later.

MILLIE: What’s happening?

OSRIC: What the–

AMBER: Ohhh, looks like someone broke the Ouija board..

CSI: Ms. Tella, what’s going on?

TELLA: The spirit is present! It draws closer! It—no…he….he wishes to speak. Spirit! I hear you! Come to me, let me be your voice. In a different voice. Murder…..I was murdered…..

CSI: What do you mean?

AMBER: Oh, come on. You guys can’t really believe this stuff. Ghosts aren’t real.

OSRIC: Neither are werewolves and vampires, darling.

TELLA: The one you seek is not who they seem! Anger! Rage! Hate! There is a secret…a dark secret. To discover it means death to all who come near! They wear a mask of innocence, but the guilty party is here! In this very room! Nearby! So close! Avenge my death! Avenge me!

MILLIE: Who did it? Tell us!!

TELLA: You know! You all will know! Soon! Soon!

CSI: Ms. Tella—Ms. Tella?

TELLA: in her normal voice. Hello? Spirit? Spirit? He has left us.

OSRIC; What in the dickens does all this mean? This is nonsense. Dark secrets and masks. This is ridiculous.

ALFRED: Perhaps not, sir. We have no reason to doubt the woman.

MILLIE: Of course we do. Some random woman shows up on our doorstep an hour after a man was murdered in our house, spouting a bunch of nonsense about crystal balls and spirits, and we’re expected to believe everything she says?

CSI: No. We’re not. But I don’t see any reason why we can’t look into this a little further.

AMBER: Dad? I don’t feel so good. I’m going to go back to my room.

MILLIE: Why don’t we all get out of here and go back to the ballroom? The air is much fresher in there.

Guests are taken back to the ballroom.

TELLA: Detective, might I have a private word? I found these in the laboratory. She hands him a file. In it are several pictures of Millie and Alfred. Together.

CSI: Very interesting. Thank you.

ALFRED enters and whispers to MILLIE. She nods and exits.

CSI: What was that about?

OSRIC: What was what about?

CSI: There’s something funny going on and it’s not just (to an audience member) this guy’s choice of necktie.  I want to know what is going on.

OSRIC: Even if I told you, you’d never believe me.

ALFRED: Sir, perhaps it would be best to—

Millie returns with AMBER, who is looking quite ill.

AMBER: Best to what, Alfred?

ALFRED: Miss Amber, Detective Ingram was merely—

CSI: I want you to tell me what’s going on.

AMBER: Going on, Detective?

OSRIC: Amber….temper….

MILLIE: Osric, love, perhaps it would be best to tell—

DR. IGOR: I don’t see how it is of any scientific use to—

CSI: Somebody better start talking or you’re all under arrest!

TELLA: Signs and portents point towards doom and still the thunder rumbles on! I sense that you are upset, detective.

AMBER: Your powers of observation are truly extraordinary. Detective Ingram, there’s something you should know.

OSRIC: Amber, sweetheart, you don’t have to do this.

MILLIE: Darling, please.

CSI: What is it, Amber?

AMBER: It might have something to do with the case. You know what was going on with Hestor—maybe this is part of it.

OSRIC: Amber, don’t.

AMBER: Detective—I’m a werewolf.

CSI: Right, and I’m lord of the vampires.

(At this, Dr. Igor immediately pulls out a cross and perhaps a clove of garlic and yells..,).

DR. IGOR: Oh god! Security breach!

AMBER: I’m not joking.

CSI: This is absolutely ridiculous–you—can’t….you’re really not joking, are you?

OSRIC: I’m afraid not, Detective. I know it sounds ridiculous—completely beyond belief, but there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand, forces beyond our capacity, just beyond our sight—mysterious things –some good, some evil–I don’t claim to know about them all, but all I know is that our daughter is special in ways that you can’t even imagine.

CSI: You do realize what you’re asking me to believe?…Is she safe?

AMBER: I’m standing right here, you know.

TELLA: Do not trust the werewolf kind.

At this, Amber mockingly bears her teeth and snaps at Tella, who jumps backwards into Dr. Igor, who is busy trying to catch CSI’s reflection in a small hand mirror.

ALBERT: We’ve taken certain steps to ensure the safety of those around us.

DR. IGOR: Absolutely. Since her infection we’ve run hundreds of tests in order to determine the best course of action and rate of lycanthropy in her bloodstream.

AMBER: Seriously, you guys. I’m not deaf. I just turn into a wolf.

OSRIC: She’s our daughter, detective. We would do anything to protect her.

CSI: So what does this have to do with Hestor?

AMBER: Tell him, Mom.

MILLIE: Hestor was….aware…of Amber’s …delicate condition.

AMBER: Mo–om! I’m not delicate. And it’s not a condition. You make it sound like a disease.

OSRIC: Well, darling, what would you have us say?

AMBER: Just say it, Mom and Dad! I’m a werewolf and there’s nothing that anyone will ever be able to do about it! I’m doomed forever!! And the only person I’ve ever loved is dead!

CSI: What are you talking about?

MILLIE: It’s true, I’m afraid. Amber was attacked when she was a small girl. We’ve been dealing with it ever since.

CSI: Exactly how old are you?

AMBER: 67 in dog years.

OSRIC: Amber…you’re going straight to your room if you keep this up.

DR. IGOR: It is a common misconception perpetuated by the Hollywood archetype that werewolves are in some ways immortal. I assure you, to the best of our knowledge, Amber ages like any other normal girl. She merely has a permutated blood stream.

TELLA: The tainted blood the spirit spoke of!

OSRIC: I will thank you not to accuse my daughter of murder!

AMBER: I am not tainted. I just take longer to shave my legs.

DR. IGOR: Yes, and some of us have been working harder than others on that tainted blood.

TELLA: What does that mean?

OSRIC: Hestor was working on a cure. He told us he was close.

CSI: A cure?

MILLIE: For Amber’s…condition. Hestor moonlighted as a freelance researcher. I asked him to try and

find a cure, to help my little girl.

DR. IGOR: No, I was. It was me, I tell you! Me!

CSI: What do you mean, doctor?

MILLIE: Not this argument again. I’m going to go have another drink.

DR. IGOR: I tell you, I was! It was my research, my technique, my laboratory…the work was mine! Hestor was jealous of my work, jealous of me, of my fame!

MILLIE: Your fame? Your fame? Face it, Igor. You’re a laughingstock. A joke. You haven’t made any significant headway in years, and Hestor was an up-and-comer. He was brilliant, and you were jealous of his work, of his talent. You had every reason to want him dead–his files conveniently stored in your laboratory, it would be that easy to simply switch names and claim his work for your own.

DR. IGOR: I tell you , I didn’t do it! Hestor was my protégé, my friend!

OSRIC: And now he’s dead. Explain that, Igor.

TELLA: The spirits are telling me that–

EVERYONE: Oh, shut up.

CSI: Mr. Skellington, I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem too upset by all of this.

OSRIC: Can you blame me?

CSI: I don’t know. Why shouldn’t I?

OSRIC: That bloodsucker broke my little girl’s heart.

CSI: Oh?

MILLIE: Darling, now may not be the best time–

OSRIC: No, darling, he needs to know the facts. Amber was madly in love with Hestor. She’d have done anything for him. But he was–uncomfortable with her…condition. It scared him. She attacked him once–she didn’t mean to–it’s just a reflex, part of her nature. But after that…he was scared. And so he cut things off. Just like that.

AMBER: And right before our wedding, too. Do you know what that’s like? We had already rented a hearse and everything. And just like that—he left me standing at the altar.

CSI: That must have made you very angry.

AMBER: Of course it did. And do you blame me? That jerk promised me that as soon as he found a cure, we’d get married. And then, just like that, he dumped me.

TELLA: Oh, my dear…

CSI: Amber, where were you when Hestor was killed?

MILLIE: You can’t possibly think–

OSRIC: Detective—

AMBER: I was—at the mall.

CSI: The mall? At 10:30? Doesn’t the mall close at 9?

AMBER: I–I—

MILLIE: Amber, please.

OSRIC: Tell the man, darling. Where were you? The cemetery again?

AMBER: I was–I was—Mom and Dad….I was at cheerleading practice.

OSRIC: What?

MILLIE: Darling, you can’t be serious.

AMBER: It’s true. I’m a cheerleader. I’m tired of hiding it. I’m tired about lying who I am. Even more than I already have to.

OSRIC: Good lord. It’s enough that we have a werewolf for a daughter, but now this? Cheerleading? What’s next? Becoming a preschool teacher and Singing the Sound of Music?

MILLIE: Now dear, there’s no reason to be ridiculous.

AMBER: I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. Hestor was the only person who knew. He was the only one I could trust.

CSI: So you were at cheerleading practice, then. And you came straight home?

AMBER: I had to make a quick stop first.

CSI: And where was that?

AMBER: I had to…get something to eat.

OSRIC: I am not going to stand here and listen to you question my daughter!

MILLIE: Darling—

OSRIC: This is absolutely ridiculous. Do you know what it’s like to have to accept the fact that your daughter is a werewolf? And then to watch her have her heart broken by some lab rat because it’s inconvenient for him—he threatened to go to the press-to tell the world her secret if I didn’t pay him– he was going to expose her , let her be locked up and tested—he deserved what he got. And now you’re accusing this poor girl—

CSI: Sir, I’m not accusing anyone of anything right now.

AMBER: But detective, I am an evil savage beast.

OSRIC: Amber, I have had enough— I need some fresh air.

Osric exits.

AMBER: Well, that went well.

DR. IGOR: I’m sorry, detective. He is often prone to fits of anger.

TELLA: I sense that he is troubled about something.

MILLIE: Someone really should give you your own show on Bravo.

CSI: Ladies, please. Alright, Amber. So you got something to eat.  What did you have?

AMBER: Venison.

CSI: Ah. And then what?

AMBER: Then I just came right back here.

DR. IGOR: And Hestor…did you see him at all?

AMBER: Why would I want to?

MILLIE: Really, detective. I assure you that this line of questioning will get you nowhere.

CSI: Ms. Tella, I’ve been meaning to ask you–how, exactly, did you say you came to be here?

TELLA: The spirits beckoned from across the—

AMBER: Oh, give it a rest. She has a police scanner in her car.

MILLIE: What?

TELLA: How did you—

AMBER: When you guys weren’t looking I snuck out and checked your car. You’re no more a psychic than I am.

TELLA: That’s not true. I–I–

CSI: The truth, Ms. Tella.

TELLA: Alright. Fine. I’m not really a psychic.

DR. IGOR: Then what exactly are you doing here?

TELLA: I’m a reporter.

AMBER: What? No—-

TELLA: Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I know what it’s like to have to live in the shadows.

MILLIE: So then what, exactly are you doing here?

TELLA: I don’t really know. I needed a story, and I heard on the police scanner that a body was found here. I figured Halloween, the Skellingtons, it would make for a great scoop. So I through together a few scarves and came over.

CSI: And the séance?

TELLA: High school acting class and a wireless fog machine. I snuck it in while you guys were eating.

MILLIE: Imagine that. She can’t really see dead people. I’m almost disappointed.

AMBER: Can I eat her?

TELLA eyes her nervously.

Just then, Osric bursts into the room, and he is MAD.

OSRIC: I have something to say. I think I know what’s been going on.

MILLIE: Darling, where have you been?

OSRIC: Not this time, Millicent. You can’t run from the truth any longer.

DR. IGOR: What are you saying, Osric?

OSRIC: I was reading this. I found it in Amber‘s room. It’s Hestor’s private notebook.

TELLA: Impossible! His notebook was stolen!

AMBER: What were you doing in my room?

OSRIC: I was checking the weather.

AMBER: And you just took it? Not cool, Dad.

CSI: I’m not concerned with how he got it, I want to know what’s inside and why we didn’t know about this before.

AMBER: Hestor had two. He kept a personal journal as well, as a back up, in case something happened. Like it being stolen.

OSRIC: Right here, Detective. Read this.

CSI: According to this notebook, Mrs. Skellington, you’ve been depositing large amounts of money into Hestor’s accounts for the past year.

DR. IGOR: It makes perfect sense.

CSI: You said it yourself, Doctor. Lab assistants don’t make much.

AMBER: But blackmail? Hestor would never do such a thing.

TELLA: It appears that he would. Desperate people often result to desperate acts.

MILLIE: It’s simply not true! I can explain—

OSRIC: Don’t play dumb with me!

DR. IGOR: What do you mean?

OSRIC: Millicent, do you think I don’t know?

MILLIE: know what, darling?

OSRIC: I can’t take this ridiculous charade any more! Don’t you think I know what was going on between you two?

MILLIE: Between Hestor and I? Don’t be ridiculous.

OSRIC: Then how do you explain this?

MILLIE: Darling, I was paying him to continue work on Amber‘s treatments.

AMBER: Mom—

MILLIE: After you attacked him, Hestor came to me and told me that he felt it was partly his fault that he couldn‘t protect you from what you are. I asked him as a favor to me to continue working on a cure in secret.

OSRIC: But why all the secrecy?

DR. IGOR: Why didn’t you say anything?

MILLIE: I didn‘t want to get her hopes up. After awhile, he started demanding more money, saying that he needed it for research or something. He started threatening me, saying he would go to the press about Amber‘s condition ,making outrageous accusations against me. After awhile I told him I was through. I couldn‘t afford to keep paying him, and I know that Amber knew that he was working on a cure. I didn‘t want to disappoint her.. She‘s been through enough already..

OSRIC: Darling, I’m sorry…can you ever forgive me?

MILLIE; Of course, darling.

CSI: And those outrageous accusations?

MILLIE: Excuse me?

CSI: I can understand your concern about Amber being exposed to the press. But those outrageous accusations you mentioned. What were they?

MILLIE: I don’t see why that matters.

AMBER: I already knew. I knew, mom. I knew that you were paying him. I know that he stopped working because you stopped giving him money. I loved him, and he gave up on me because he wasn’t going to make a profit.

ALFRED: I’m sorry, Miss Amber.

AMBER: It’s fine. Everything’s fine now.

CSI: I’m sorry, I hate to break this up, but I have a question as well.

MILLIE: What is it, detective?

CSI: Can you explain these photos?

MILLIE: Where did you get those?

CSI: That doesn’t matter. Alfred, maybe you should speak up right about now.

ALFRED: I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me even if I answered honestly.

OSRIC: Why don’t you try.

ALFRED: They aren’t real.

OSRIC: Of course they’re not.

ALFRED: I promise you, Master Osric, that they are not what they seem. These mean nothing. I believe in propriety and discretion, and I am infinitely loyal to this family.

DR. IGOR: It would appear you’re being very discreet in these photos.

MILLIE: Darling, you have to believe me.

ALFRED: Indeed.

CSI: Do you want to explain to me how, exactly, then, Hestor got a hold of these pictures?

ALFRED; I’m afraid I don’t know that, Detective. He came to me. A few months ago. Approached me with these pictures and told me that unless I paid him, he would tell Master Osric. I would have been ruined. How can I explain something like this? I’m sure you’re all aware of Mistress Millicent’s less than excellent reputation, but I assure you, we are merely friends.

OSRIC: This sounds like a load of junk to me.

MILLIE: It’s true, darling. We couldn’t let you find out because we knew you would react just like this.

DR. IGOR: So wait, you knew about the photos as well?

MILLIE: Yes! He came to us both., demanding cash or exposure.

TESSA: Looks like these pictures have plenty of exposure already.

CSI: So why didn’t you go to the police?

ALFRED: And tell them what? That this fellow had a set of dubious pictures? I was trapped. There was nothing I could do. I’ve been with this family for 40 years, my father worked for the family and his father before him. I have nowhere else to go.

CSI: Alright. I need to make a phone call. All of you stay right here. No one leaves this room

The motives:

Amber and Hestor were romantically involved for awhile, but he left Amber and she is bitter at being stood up for prom and furious that he threatened to reveal her secret to the world.

Alfred was being blackmailed by Hestor because Hestor was in possession of compromising photos of Millie and Alfred.

Millicent was desperate for Osric not to find out about photos with Alfred, and her longstanding feud with Hestor over payments for Amber’s cure adds even more fuel to the fire.

Dr. VonBeakerstien knew that Hestor was well on his way to finding a cure for Amber’s werewolfism, and Hestor was going to the press with the news—but Dr. VonBeakerstien felt that it was his original research that led Hestor to the cure, and without any major scientific breakthroughs in many years, VonBeakerstein stood to regain his once great reputation if credited for the cure.

Madame Tella showed up in the middle of the party and faked a séance to convice people she was a legitimate psychic, not a reporter looking for a break. But is she so desperate that she would create her own crime scene to get a better scoop?

Osric found Amber’s test results and press releases regarding amber’s condition in the lab. Hestor threatened to reveal them to the press unless the family paid. He also hates Hestor for breaking his daughter’s heart.

Did the butler do it? Or was it Amber, angry at Hestor’s prejudice? Or was it Millicent, bound and determined to hide her affair with Alfred? Could it have been VonBeakerstien, desperate to regain his standing in the scientific community? Might it have bee Madame Tella, hoping to be a successful journalist? Or was it Osric, who had plenty of motive and opportunity to end Hestor’s life?

The Solution:

CSI: Alright, everyone. Sit down. I just got a call from headquarters and there are a couple problems with your story.

MILLIE: What do you mean, detective?

CSI: I’m saying that something here isn’t right and it needs fixing right now before we go any further.

AMBER: I don’t have any silver bullets on hand, but I’m sure that—

CSI : Why don’t you start by telling everyone your real name?

AMBER: You got me. My real name is Harry Potter, and I live in a cubboard–

OSRIC: What exactly is the meaning of this, Detective? I’m a little confused.

DR. IGOR: I think we all are.

MILLIE: Will someone please answer the man so I can have a drink?

Suddenly, TELLA pulls a gun out of her voluminous peasant skirts and points it at the family.

OSRIC jumps in front of MILLIE, DR IGOR dives under a table, and AMBER jumps onto a table and sits in pounce position. CSI camly watches.

TELLA: If any of you move, you’re dead. And don’t worry, silver bullets will kill humans, too.

OSRIC: Can’t we talk about this?

AMBER: Please let me eat her?

TELLA: Shut up, all of you, shut up!

DR. IGOR (from under the table): There’s no reason to be rude….

TELLA: Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re all going to turn, slowly, and walk to the other side of the room. (Perhaps here we involve the audience as well.). Then you’re going to face the wall and count to 50. I’m going to leave now, and none of you are going to try and stop me.

CSI: We found your prints, Carmen. They were all over the inside of the cabinet and the fridge. Although I will admit that you did a great job of wiping the rest of the place down and hiding your tracks–but your prints were already in the system from that job you did up in Michigan. Give it up, Carmen. You’re done. It’s over.

MILLIE: I’m sorry. Will someone please explain to me who Carmen is?

CSI: She is. Meet Carmen Fester, younger sister of Hester and small time petty criminal, until now. Carmen, you’re under arrest.

ALFRED: That’s not all.

OSRIC: For god’s sake, will someone tell me what is going on??

ALFRED: Carmen and I were previously involved. Romantically. Long ago.

AMBER: I knew the butler did it!

ALFRED: Miss Amber, it’s not like that. I broke things off. I ended it. But Carmen persisted to the point of delusion, convincing herself that we were still together. Do you remember when I went on vacation when you were 16? I was getting a restraining order. I am loyal to your family, Master Osric. Please believe me.

MILLIE: This is worse than a soap opera!

CSI: You have the right to remain silent–

He takes a step towards her.

TELLA/CARMEN: I said don’t move! Alfred, baby, please. Tell them how you really feel. Tell them about us. Tell them how you love me. Alfred….come on, Alfred…don’t be like that. Well fine then! Fine! I never liked you anyway! You’re pathetic! All of you! None of you even know who you’re dealing with!

CSI: Face it. The game’s up. There’s nowhere to go.

TELLA/CARMEN makes a break for the door, but at the very moment she does, the following happens.

OSRIC: Like hell you will!

OSRIC dives for her at the same time AMBER pounces. DR. IGOR peeks out from under the table and watches as MILLIE grabs for her—but it is Alfred who calmly sticks one dignified foot out and trips CARMEN. Her gun goes flying and she is quickly subdued. CSI handcuffs her and she is hauled to a chair.

AMBER: Please let me eat her!

ALFRED: I’m afraid that would be most unladylike, Miss Amber.

OSRIC: I just don’t get it. Why go to all this trouble?

TELLA/CARMEN : Hestor was my brother. And he was always given everything. Every chance, every opportunity—everything was given to him, brilliant Hestor, the prodigy of the family. And me? Nothing. I got nothing. Then Hestor came here. He told me who he happened to be working with, what family, what butler—it was fate. I had my second chance. And then Hestor came to me with some nonsense about an easy way to make a little cash. He was going to blackmail the butler and make it look like he was having an affair, but I knew that Alfred only has eyes for me. I knew that I had to stop Hestor from ruining my love.

ALFRED: A most incorrect assumption.

OSRIC: So you weren’t really a reporter OR a psychic.

TELLA/CARMEN : No.

AMBER: What about the missing files?

TELLA/CARMEN : Hestor had records linking me to him. To not be caught, I had to make those files disappear.

CSI: Linked? Linked how?

OSRIC: And then what happened?

MILLIE: He fell in love.

TELLA/CARMEN : That’s right. He fell in love.

AMBER: And look where that got him.

TELLA/CARMEN : Not with you, freak. With your mother/

AMBER: Watch who you’re calling freak. I’m not the one in handcuffs.

TELLA/CARMEN : He pretended to love you to get closer to your family, to get in with your parents. But he was in love with Millicent.

ALFRED: You’ll pardon me for asking, but how exactly did I come into this? Why me, in particular? He could have chosen any number of people—

TELLA/CARMEN: He was jealous, I suppose

ALFRED: Why?

TELLA/CARMEN for being close to Millicent, for being a part of the family that he never could quite belong to–so he decided to ruin you.

OSRIC: And the photos?

TELLA/CARMEN : Taken out of context. I gave them to Detective Ingram to put him off the trail.

ALFRED: Ah. Because everyone knows the butler always did it.

MILLIE: But why? Why would he blackmail an innocent man?

TELLA/CARMEN : I already told you. He was jealous, he was in love. So was I. So he decided to use your questionable nature against you and blackmailed the both of you. But I couldn’t let him do that. Not to my Alfred. He had to be stopped.

CSI: That may be true, but taking the law into your own hands–killing your own brother?

TELLA/CARMEN He deserved it. He deserved that and more.

CSI: Folks, I’m sorry about the party, but it looks like we got things under wraps. I’ll give you all a call in the morning and you can come down to the station and give your statement. Evening folks.

DR. IGOR: What an entirely unusual evening.

MILLIE: The wine!

She exits and returns with toasting flutes and a bottle of red wine.

ALFRED: Oh, I don’t know old friend. I think we’ve seen stranger.

He gestures towards AMBER who is scratching behind her ears in a very dog like fashion..

AMBER: What?

OSRIC: Justice has been served, my dear. Shall we have a toast? To health, happiness and most importantly, to our love.

ALL: Cheers! Cheers with the audience, too. Don’t be rude.

OSRIC: Dance with me darling, before the sun comes up!

MILLIE: Osric, darling, I’d love to.

She smiles, and we see for the first time, big ol’ vampire fangs in her teeth! She can secret these in whilst getting the wine.

ALFRED: And I wager we’ll see far stranger yet/

Thunderclap!!

THE END!!!

]]> http://catieosborn.com/2010/06/19/murder-at-the-mansion-2/feed/ 0 Catie O