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The Rebel is a student publication of EastCarolina University. Offices are located on thecampus at 215 Wright Annex. Inquiries and con-tributions should be a Mg to F, O. Box 2607,without written perm$6.00.

Editor-in-Chief . . Sandy Penfieldit Director. . ..... Glenn LewisTom Hawkins. 40, ... Bruce ParishBusiness Manager |... fee MoD oxid Swink

TABLE OF CONTENTSMERC EN CUI) COMM oo oveeckeeeethe missing metaphor-- elisa troutmana low damn thing-- archie gastorthe great dive-- tim wehneruntitled-- charles griffinuntitled-- phil arringtona seed-- david holdeferWMGileck CENMel WGC CIST 2 2 eewhen the gentle must rage-- rick atkinsonand the lord said-- marvin huntMIOUIMIEC (Ol COGlE ee,acey-zeus-y -- phil arrington(ares: revsail boat-- scot gardner(WANTAGE AUS Ta OT 0) eeeMlerelecnia OF Guucioraicer- Milam MGtON 6... eee kets eee ccneeesa poem of ecstacy written upon seeing the moon eat three astronautsafter beating them severely with empty coke bottles--sidney furnbushClowea OCNE COugan@Uen = =...step off the highway-- jon jacksonthe laugh-- marvin huntuntitled-- donna lowerynumber 70-- scot gardnerCe ee ee aCe eersearch for anything-- melinda mc carthyuntitled-- beverly cottenCe ee aa

The Missing MetaphorNor for your eyes should |Look in OrionTs belt to find,Nor feel in ShellyTs poetryThe children of your choices.There were metaphors used in languageTo undress da VinciTs marble, orMade to sculpt unfinished stoneInto some breathing face alone.Not in syllables will | haveThe option of conversion,~Nor in image your form,But tn thinking, I'll makeSmoke look like Popo Clouds,And dangle the North Star from my ear.There are constellations in verse nowAnd forms called poetryHave been tossed into stellar systems.Even the methodical pause of verseIs found in rivers,And not in rhymes.

A LOW DAMN THINGLoneliness is such a silly thing;a droopy brown-eyed girlwaiting for a soldier,a subject for the Nashville cowboysto sell their wax thrills.Alone is a low damn thing;the way Jesus must have feltwhen he looked upand saw no helicopterscoming to save him.

Though all he could see was the vague skyline of Munich, JohnnyDrew could feel the hundreds of eyes and a half-dozen spotlightstrained on his every move. It had taken a long time, in fact fifteen ofJohnnyTs twenty-nine years had gone into the training for the OlympicGames. Now as he stood above the crowd Johnny recalled thedistressing events of the past twelve years that had kept him fromcompeting at an earlier age.With his toes hanging over the platform, Johnny bent his knees,stretched his arms as if reaching for the stars, and sprang upward andout with the beginning of his performance. His mind now racing,Johnny recalled the first setback in his diving career. At seventeen,Johnny's father had entered the hospital just three days before thestatewide diving championship and Johnny had to work through thesummer to keep the family on tts feet. That year the United Statesdiving team was without Johnny Drew.As he brought his knees up to his chest and tucked them under hischin, Johnny jerked backward into the makings of a precisioned flip.Recounting the events of eight years ago when Johnny was in collegiatecompetition, a dismal memory of several crushed vertebrae duringNCAA Diving Championships ran chills throughout his body. AgainJohnnyTs claim to fame had been halted by misfortune.Smoothly straightening his legs and beginning the full twist, a flash oflight hit JohnnyTs face and the memories of a tour of duty in Viet Namfour years ago replaced what might have been the headline story for theOlympic Games in Mexico. If only he had been stationed at someMarine base in the States instead of Khe Sanh; what a name JohnnyDrew would be today.Reaching as far as possible, his body in a relaxed yet rigid state,Johnny numbly recalled missing the bronze metal by a merethree-tenths of a point earlier this evening.Now, as he prepared for his entry as usual, Johnny saw the lights flashby and thought to himself, Johnny Drew will make the headlines withthis perfect dive. Johnny Drew will make the Olympic news at last.The faces passed rapidly, then the shoes, then black silence.The next morning in a small town in Maryland Johnny DrewTs nameand picture were on the front page. Elsewhere in the United States hisname was not a headline, but his story was: OLYMPIAN OIES INSPECTACULAR, SUICIDAL DIVE FROM HIS SIXTH PLOCR Sul Te.7

Laughing she enters the roomredheaded as evergrowing more beautifulwith each passing yearall that time has brought to herare a few linesof terror at the edges of her eyesand a carefree manner that coversover the crust of lost lovefutile lustthe fear of growing old aloneLaughing she enters the roombright of eyeand sharp of nail

chaoschildrenthe swings screamingthe swings screaminghazed hilda in her blue dressjim&bob scratching at their zippersgigglingthe swings screamingauthority foot tapping timesmiling arms foldedthe chanting circlesflashing reds and blueshands clenchedtongues lolling in the sunthe swings screamingand their teeth sharp as taxessharp white gleaming in the windthe swings screamingand the thrum-droneof too laughterof too dancingauthority picking its earssmilingthe swings screamingdazed dorothy in her squated &sam fingering their navalsKnelling in the shorn grassthe swings screamingcircles chantingand chantingand chantingteeth gleamingfat hands meshed in circlethe swings screamingand the bell-hatred

A SEEDoDo you mean silence?TToNo, not exactly.�oDo you mean stillness?�oNo, movement is needed to become still...�oYou must mean emptiness.�oThis is close, but only points; for it is also full...�444oThen you mean just ~itT.oNo, but now you are only an ~itT away...�

: | mammaa |Silent, undisturbed;More and it would overflow...

cess in the darkened dash still leans. iil: on-E, -Coe leans where ait has absurdly leaned since abefoe. Reto my Pinnets ~are still Bees although there. is nofeeling in fy toes oat all, although e cold gnaws ravenously at my face:: soon the battery will be dead and theheat will be dead and the. cold, cold night will grip likeT the clenched fist ¢Even. in. the winter darkness tcan Follow the road | as it stretches intothe night; harrow, velvety white ribbon, unblemished by trees or brush.= &,

~Where it melts into inky ae at the edge of my vision is the horizon ofexistence now. Jens Ae counts. Nothing a exists. Perhaps not.ever pice Id... ee Le&Me ve cars that have passed resonates in my head, °without slowing, Zip Zip zip zip zip past the:frozen me--speeding ao "existence intonary nothingness...+ = Nighter,4 NV reg: a pocket knife, one battered station Wagon, = oe o : iors SANS. rath a tock, no blanket, no gloves...a can of ligher fluid. | unfold a :oothe! pack: 3 knife, the gleaming silver erection rapes the seat upholstery. . eo 7ee _ with: a tearing. ripping biting sound. | suspect a similar sound awaiting : . a Poe 'eae release in the soft spongy padding of human flesh and the thought : _ ; :a warms me with terror as | plunge the upholstery again and again, lifting : _ a :oout spongy squishy | handfuls of fibrous stuffing with which to build a " , .fire. But it is the black sky that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. White . .-, :+ oblood: " " , :Then suddenly the cold blade pauses its plunging and the only | oF ; ¢ :movement in all the cosmos is the heavy, rhythmic pluming out of my _ : ( :Wosty. breath and the now omnipresent teeth chattering as | sense the _. ; Y"ES

red flashing before | see it. From behind. From out of the mountains.The throbbing red police light like a quickened pulse surges closer,closer, eclipsing the darkness. Heart pounding, throbbing to the samequick glowing blood cadence--oh God oh God please. | stumble out onto the white highway armsflailing wildly. Snow pelts my face my mouth half-blinding my eyes andthe white glare of the headlights eclipses still the flashing red careeningwildly through the snow through the thick black night--he'll stop heTs coming for me heTs come with warmth pumping warmred blood into the darkness for me. The grinding chunking chugachugsound of tire chains chewing snow as the glaring red and the glaringwhite thrash against me closer, closer until they are thrashing down onme, but the squealing tires lurch to the right banking off the other laneas | lunge vainly to grab to smash to--stop screaming bellowing stop you filty bastards stop. But the redthrobbing recedes, dimmer and dimmer until it winks out of existenceas | sprawl face down in the snow on the cruel, cruel highway, weepinglike a little boy lost in the woods...And now, of course, the battery is dying, the heater faintly moans inits death throes. But no quarter | hiss to the treacherous machine. |listen to the final wheezing with fingers and face jammed up against thedashboard vents sucking greedily at the last faint wisps of heat until allis frozen silence, except for the ragged, howling wind ripping like adagger through the darkness. Harsh gusts slap against the car, rocking itand the horrible screeching of the frozen joints echoes like demoniclaughter in the night.../f there was somewhere to walk--somewhere to crawl instead ofsitting. | have never conceived of cold this intense. My fingers are numband stiff even when sheathed under my arms. All sensation has fledfrom my feet. | alternate between curling into a tight ball and sittingerect thrashing my arms against my chest. Scooping up the excavatedseat stuffing, | squirm slowly and stiffly over both seats and into therear of the station wagon. After shredding the thumb-worn map forkindling and cracking the rear windows for ventilation, | flare a matchand ignite a small fire with which to save my life...for it is my life now. | know it and cannot banish thoughts of freezingto death of freezing to death...and miles to walk before | sleep--where would the bard have walkedhis stinking valiant miles in this fix...| continually feed bits of stuffing into the small pile of smolderingash, and it is not long before the whole car is filled with gray smoke.The icy blasts howling through the ventilation cracks churn violently14

with the choking smoke and | am blind as the gray thickens and wrapsaround my head like a horrible glove and suddenly | realize, oh yes, |realize that it is hell. So simple---fam in hell...The smoldering stuffing generates much more smoke than heat, butany warmth is life now so | chink the windows a bit more and quarrythe remaining fibre from both seats until the upholstery sags limply liketwo butchered carcasses. For what seems like years | squat curled astightly as possible in the rear of the wagon coaxing bits of stuffing intothe growing mound of ash, eyes squinched shut and watering from thesmoke. | notice with dull surprise that the tears soon freeze and crustupon my lashes if | do not blot them with a sleeve. My ears feel asthough they will snap off at a touch--and then suddenly and simply thestuffing is all gone with nothing left but a precipitate of gray ash. Ahollow gnawing cramps at my stomach.../ am afraid oh God yes youd better believe ITm afraid. \t is almost asthough | can feel my blood thicken to a cool red syrup within my veins.Oozing--as | sit and sit and sit...Sleep launches its first assaults; heavy-lidded and drowsy, my headnods, and jerks up, and nods again and of course | know what thismeans, but it would be so nice to sleep, to drift floating away in thedarkness. The agonizing cold is gradually slipping out of me and all |feel is a slow, thick throbbing somewhere, dimly somewhere. Liftingmy arm slowly | try to touch my ear, gingerly like a baboon seekinglice-and then it comes to me, the dim understanding that only my eyescan tell me when contact is made, for touch is completely dead in myhands and face. The wires are down. Down. Slowly and stiffly, as inadream, | shift myself around and rub a heavy sleeve across a smoke andfrost scarred window. The world is white, dipped, drenched, drowning,shrouded in white. | glance down and a soft green three a.m. radiatesfrom my wrist and it is as though a voice other than my own announcesin my head: By three a.m. roads in the rural wyoming mountains hadbecome completely inpassable. Snow drifts to a foot along the highwayand | suspect that the temperature continues to plunge. How far belowZero | have no idea how far | donTt care | canTt feel it anyway. | presscloser against the window to peer at the sky, but my milky breathclouds the pane and | would rather stare at the patterns of frost thanwipe them away again--and suddenly | know that it is time...For the listener, who listens in the snow, and, nothing himself,beholds nothing that is not there and the nothing that is them | whisperbetween blue lips trying to be bitter. | would like to be bitter. But | justdonTt care, | just donTt care. Does is matter...15

But it does.Louvered lids slide heavily over eyeballs growing slick as ice. Heavy,so very, very heavy. It would be deliciously easy to slide. Painless,gentle sliding. But for some reason they cannot take me that easily. |can't allow it. | suppose it is manTs duty to feign rage at his condition,regardless. Quasi-dignity. Capitulate--surrender to them--to that sublimeinfinite forever whiteness, and there is only nothingness, and your bodyrots to silent dust, and your spirit was always silent dust and worse thannever being you never counted. So quasi-dignity, lad, and make aclenched fist spectacle of aefiance. For the gods. Wherever they hide.But no. No. | donTt believe any of it. | donTt believe anything. But thenwhy--why am | doing this? | donTt know. | donTt care. Does thismatter?No.From inside my shirt where | have secured it against freezing, | pullout the can of lighter fluid. Chugachug roaring again in my head as |squat cross-legged in the heap of ashes and charred shreds of stuffingfibre. | press the can between my violently trembling palms. The smellystuff ejaculates heartily as a long thin stream of fluid arches from thenozzle dousing my feet, my legs, my chest, arms and my hair. It tricklesin a dozen rivulets down my face into my mouth until | am saturated,stinking of the stuff. Stinking and crying again... quickly quickly nowbefore it frezzes--stiffly methodically laboring to strike the one matchsaved hoarded against this whiteness--flaring now whiteblueyellowthrough the tears a last wild glimpse at the intestines of my coffin. Thefinal torch. The great flaming out. | will be warm. But oh God oh dearGod. | hate it.

¥and the lord saidand the lord saidlet the angels be bornand they were bornand given to the earth as hot toyswe played with themtill our tongues became as thick as muscleand murder came into sightstill morning flowers of the field weptand in yellowthe angels sacked with us hot for the nightgod stalks the roadsilent and cold at night----- in the morning he will murder7

My father was the countyTs deputy.Every week, for sixty dollars(less tax),He manacled menTs hands behind their backsAnd tossed them to the hungry waiting sea.Once, too young to fully understandThe need for peace and order in our townWhere older houses tore the new ones down,| asked him why he wore the silver handAnd kept it cleaned and oiled and at his side.He smiled in his most now-!Tve-got-you-wayAnd said what-if-some-night-nigger-tried-To-kill-me.... There was nothing | could say.SO on we go, my fatherTs ghost and I,Not knowing by whose silver hand we die.19

ARSRSROYesis. SON oe

on GeHIVE ms».

/acey-zeus-y/darkness gleams the sacred slueambrosia sweatthe glistening brown down of thrusting thighsearthrobes spilled against the sandthe golden godsballing in the bushes

% hig i LE "" aei CO Seiahahaen ae, a se ane. ° | 8 tide ; . 2%" ~S : Soles ae| \{ Ry ) os a eS ~ ; ; = "J Cy wes o see SR ase| : \ 1) ES 7 sees: Z =~> S - ee eeRe Sse SS oe " . A ~"Rs SeWYO SSNS Ss ee iHIRI NA OO a foit " Oo0 @! i) a/rape/your eyes rolled away from hereto the top of your faceand became like socket eggs| \ gue you cried pitiful| Vj \\y like a weak cough\ and wet, , and i and my angels/ ie caught onto my coattails/| a and pulled them round my headoy like a tentFOUCHE. _ and i bellow now7 J ae as you wipe me dead2 from your leg/ 4 your gracious leg

24SAILBOATbillow-winds and pillowed skyssurrounded my sea-sails,breathing me where they wouldover the glistening broken-glass vastness.watched solely by celestial gold,| alone Knew where | might traveland what birds flew overhead.now,beaten and barnacled,my pointless bow is directedto PoseidonTs applause,for he bears me despite.and | dream of where | would beif | had no anchor to drag...

Money, eating our lives| Rushed lunch, dog and drink"eats out 50c of your wageseats through the acids of your body,gives you heartburnThe pain immense"Fearing a heart attack"doctor simply chews a big bite out of wagesWorried over expenses"tranquilizers your dinnerhowever you overdose.WhatTs left of the moneyspits you into the ground"your family chews the rest.26

The death of Guidolander26the year of wrinkled warshadean houndTs hungry slimepigurine yellow of redslain swampseyllian rivers rushingwashing the footprints of the soldierstumbling in the trembling sea of shadowsthe old women brought the young onesclinging to their withered teatsout of dustTs deityswirling up oceans of smokegraying the landsflowered wallswhere they bring the young onesin the years of deaththe old women breathe their bloodand the lamb is slit sweetly oozingthe death of guidolandersees no unbled altarthe old ones remember the age of empty fieldsthe old ones remember the age of eyllian riversthe death of guidolandersees NO maidenheadshadean houndTs howling sluethe year of wars and wasteoT

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!|ii\\||iiiA POEM OF ECSTACY WRITTEN UPON SEEING THE MOONEAT THREE ASTRONAUTS AFTER BEATING THEMSEVERELY WITH EMPTY COKE BOTTLESHow can | hail thee, pale waning virgin moonWith a face as voluptuous and creamyAs the smooth luscious thighsOf a milky white chocolate Easter Bunny28

little left butseldom used but foraoefOLD PARK BENCHk benchioniO]athoughtsnparlate looks4emoy:conbut~oS5. 5 SS©. o = bos mo(a8ant

Step off the highwayand discover the Side Showdark and wet fogsurrounding drab tentsthe sign saysit costs a dimeto watch theout of the ordinarybut i think itTs all very commonand it costs much moreto watch the Side Showfreaks - with tears in their mindsperforming for penny ante rewardscontinuing to liveat the sound of a dimemost lives worshipthe sound of the dimemost minds = tear ladenare willing to performand it costs much moreto watch the Side Show30

ji|||Between leaves iTll make a sandwichwith meand sleep and sleeplike leaves on icelike wrapped cocoons on ice hung trees.22

NUMBER 70crush me as i ferment(though i call it aging)seal the aluminumaround meyou've forgotten mebut i'm not rusting in the grass33

j|/fSearch for AnythingSCENE:CHARLES:EMILY:CHARLES:EMILY:CHARLES:34The story opens in Emily Dickinson's small sitting room. It is dark. What light there is, iscoming from a small lamp beside a wing back chair stage right. Reverend Charles Wadsworth issitting on a small Victorian couch stage left, staring straight ahead of him. There is onlythe ticking of a grandfather clock.After a few minutes Emily floats in. She petite, plain, around thirty. Her reddishbrown hair is pulled tightly away from her face. Her eyes lack any kind of color. She isdressed in a ghostly white gown with plain lines. She sits in the highback chair next to thebay window stage right.(organ music is playing a tune of great drama)A strange restless spirit brought me. (sharp notes from organ) | fail to understand thisforce that draws me to you. My world does not permit this, yet here | am. (he standsabruptly and strides to the bay window)(rising to meet him, with much sympathy in her voice) Charles, it is the power of naturethat has magnetized us. We have no choice but to be drawn to each other. Realize this, forit will be no other way.(he turns to her) But do you not understand, Emily? It is morally wrong for us tocommunicate. | ama minister that never even visits a parishioner much less correspond withanother woman. | am married, that can not be changed. All things considered, | am a foolfor being here.(Emily crosses the room and throws her arms to the ceiling) Morally right? What are morals?What purpose do they serve? Have no concern for morals, Charles, live by your heart. Lifeis Over On this earth, and goes on forever in heaven. What good are morals here on earthwhen they dissolve themselves in death. Our purpose, as you yourself have told me is toahcieve immortality. That can truly be, once nature has run its course. In that immortalityour love will transcend. As long as we love each other now and believe that we shall meetagain in the hereafter, it does not matter what morals are. They will carry no consequence.So you are dealing with trivia, something that does not even have merit.(Resumes his original position at the window) How easy you say those words. | honestlybelieve what you tell me for my ideas are the same, but Emily, it is not so simple for me.| live outside a little sitting room. (organ music rises) | face the world day after day.(music continues to build) It is up to me to live by the standards of society. You, youcan speak with ease... sitting in this room day in and out. Oh, if you only knew that theworld does not live off ideas and theories. They do not care for your ideas. (music atclimax) You must accept that. (fades out)

EW LY:CHARLES:EMILY:CHARLES:EMILY:CHARLES:EMILY:CHARLES:Emil LY:EMILY:(organ plays a soothing love song) Ah yes, but we are not like the rest of the world. Weare special people. Why must we live by their ideas? That we love each other is enough.(slight sound of the sexton singing in the background and stops)Emily, you are so blind. How can | make you understand the way life on the outside reallyis? There is only one solution to our affair. (organ music with a hint of foreshadowing)| cannot continue in this manner. | have decided to give up my parish in Philadelphia andmove out west. That way of life will be simpler for us both. We may correspond by letterfrom time to time, but there will be no way for me to return to you here at Amherst. (blastfrom the organ. Emily turns and stares at him in utter disbelief as smoke pours out ofher ears)WHAT WILL EMILY SAY? HOW WILL SHE REACT TO THE NEWS FROM WADSWORTH? WILL SHE FALL ON THEFLOOR AND THROW A TANTRUM, OR WILL SHE OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM AND LET HIM GO?Charles you can't mean...(organ music hits melodramatic chord)Yes, Emily, |Tm afraid | do.No, | refuse to believe that you are giving up our affair, the only thing in life | haveto cling to. How can you be so cruel? (she breaks into sobbing state)This is the only way | can be fair to you. You must believe that, Emily, you must.You heartless male chauvinist pig! All of you are alike... You toy with my affections andthen walk out the door, leaving me to nothing but my pen and pencil set, three brokencrayolas, and a bird that canTt even sing. ~~Morning Dove.TT Oh, how can you do this to me?Emily, (very serious manner) when you behave like a child, itTs all too easy to walk out onyou. | must leave now.(helpless and disgusted manner) Oh, how could | ever think of you asa man | love? You'reso masculine! Go now and leave me to my loneliness...MUSIC IS AT AN ALL TIME HIGH, PLAYING COMPELLING STRANDS OF SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC. CHAR LESOPENS THE DOOR, STEPS THROUGH THE THRESHOLD, TURNS TO SEE EMILY AGAIN. SEEING HER ASACHILDLIKE FIGURE, HE SHAKES HIS HEAD, TURNS, AND STORMS AWAY. EMILY RUNS TO THE DOORAFTER HIM, STAMPS HER FOOT, AND MUTTERS UNDER HER BREATH IN TONES DENOTING ONE GOING MAD.(Crying to herself) | knew things would never work out between us. It was too much to hopefor. All my dreams are shattered in this world. But maybe...just maybe...yes...thingswill be different in the hereafter. Charles, you are doomed to be mine. You shall see.(She stands at the window gazing wildly after him as he rides off into the sunset. Themusic is playing a stormy song.)

aALL OF A SUDDEN THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, ORGAN BLAST. EMILY TURNS TO FIND HER SISTER, VINNIE,RUNNING MADLY AT HER.VINNIE: Emily, why was he here? You know | canTt stand it when he comes. Do you not care for myfeelings? | refuse to believe that you could be so inconsiderate.EWILY: But Vinnie, it isnTt as it seems.VINNIE: But the fact is that he was here, and that you did see him. Admit it!EMILY: All right, Vinnie, he was here and | did talk to him. But you donTt know what...VINNIE: Enough! Enough said! You have worn my patience thin! | will not stand for your treatmentany longer! | am leaving you to be stuck in your room forever! (organ music portraysEmilyTs shock)VINNIE LEAVES THE ROOM IN A HUFF IT IS QUITE EVIDENT THAT HER FEELINGS HAVE BEEN HURT.EMILY STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF HER ROOM WITH A DUMFOUNDED LOOK ON HER FACE. WHAT WILL SHEDO NOW?ENMLLY: What will | do now? My lover and tutor has betrayed me, and even my sister has left meto decay in my sitting room. How hateful the world is. How | wish | could hurt the worldas much as it has hurt me. Someday | will have the things that | can never have on thisworld. I'll show them all!EMILY IS BEGINNING TO GET WILDER AND WILDER. ORGAN MUSIC PROCEEDS IN THE SAME MANNER.FIRE IS RAGING FROM HER EYES. SHE CAN HARDLY CONTROL HERSELFT IT IS QUITE EVIDENT THATEMILY HAS THOUGHTS OF SOME DEVILISH PLOT TO SEEK REVENGE ON CHARLES AND VINNIE. SHE ISTHINKING PENSIVELY. THE SEXTON SINGS INNOCENTLY AND DRAWS HER ATTENTION.EMILY: Sing on you innocent creature. You too are against me. | can tell it in your song.Ill not stand for it! (Emily sits down) | know what | should do...you will be a presentfor my devoted sister. | shall make a sexton pie! How delightful! (hideous laugh)AS ORGAN MUSIC PLAYS, EMILY OPENS THE BIRD CAGE, REACHES IN, CHOKES THE BIRD TO DEATH.THE SEXTON SHRIEKED A BIT AND THEN ITS SWEET VOICE FADES OUT COMPLETELY. SHE PULLS OUTFEATHERS ONE BY ONE. SHE THROWS THE REMAINS IN A COOKING POT. SHE HAS A KITCHENETTE INHER SITTING ROOM. ORGAN MUSIC FADES.EMILY: Ah, but this will not suffice. There must be more that | can do. (paces across the room)| must prepare for the next life. Charles, you shall be mine " our marriage shall come tobe! You may not believe it now, but you will love me...you will! How shall | prepare?oy

TCM TEEM LY:EMILY:EM LY:VOICES:EMILY:VOICES:EMILY:38EMILY THINKS FOR A MOMENT. ORGAN MUSIC IS BUILDING. SHE STRIKES UPON AN IDEA. MUSICCRESCENDOS AND THEN STOPS.| know; I'll plan our ~~heavenly�T wedding. (hatred burning in her eyes) Oh Charles, |wish it did not have to be this way. How cruel you are to me. Our relationship will neverbe the same.EMILY LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW AND SEES CHILDREN RUNNING IN THE YARDT RUSHING TO HER CABINET,SHE PULLS OUT A BATCH OF COOKIES WITH POISON IN THEM.(a wild look comes to her eyes) ITve been waiting to use these cookies for a long time onthose little brats!LEANING OUT THE WINDOW SHE SHOUTS.Children, children... are you hungry? Would you like some cookies?Oh yes, yes!!ITIl give you this fresh batch of cookies of you'll run to BerthaTs Bakery and buy meawedding cake. Listen carefully now...| want the figures of a bride, groom and ministeron the top of the cake. Do not forget the minister --- on pain of death! (organ music,quick fade)We won't forget, we promise!EV yY Mewes ie PHAY OF POISONED COOKIES TO THE CHILDREN. THEY GRAB FOR THEM AND RUNMERRILY TO THE BAKERY. MEANWHILE. BACK IN THE SITTING ROOM, EMILY IS RUMMAGING THROUGHMem CLOSET.| Know itTs in here somewhere. | know that dress from my bolder days is in this closet.Ah yes, here it is. | Knew it would come in handy again!EMILY PULLS OUT ASLEEK LOOKING BLOOD RED DRESS WITH SEQUINS PLASTERED ON IT. ORGANPLAYS A RATHER SUGGESTIVE TUNE. SHE RIPS OFF THE PLAIN WHITE GOWN AND STUFFS IT DOWNTARE SINK. MUSIC FADES.

EMIULY :ChiilD:EMLLY:EMILY:(with liberated feeling) How good to be out of that drab color! Freedom at last!Perhaps this dress can foreshadow a different ~~tintTT to my future relationship withCharles.SHE LOOSENS HER HAIR AND LETS IT DRAPE OVER HER SHOULDERS. SHE IS NOT SO PLAIN ASBEFORE. BUT IS FAR FROM BEING THE oBELLE OF THE BALL� FIGURE. SHE SEES THE CHILDRENAPPROACHING VERY SLOWLY. SOME ARE COUGHING, SOME ARE DOUBLED OVER, A FEW DROP TO THEGROUND.(coughing, strained voice) Hey White Nun, hereTs the cake. (places it on the tray toraise it) Thanks for the cookies. They were...(he coughs profusely and then falls dead.)ORGAN MUSIC PORT RAYING GREAT SHOCK.Oh, he seems ill. What a shame. (evil chuckle)SHE PLACES THE CAKE ON THE TABLE AND STARES HUNGRILY AT THE FIGURES ON TOP OF IT.Oh life, if you only knew how cruel you have been! | hope there is more to look forwardto in death. (She throws the groom figure out the window.) As for you, Charles" (organmusic is at its highest point as she bites off the head of the minister figure.) 1TIlmeet you in Hell!SHE STRETCHES HER ARMS UP TO THE SKY. WITH THE STRANGE APPEARANCE OF VICTORY ON HER FACE,OUR EPISODE IS LEFT WITH THESE OUESTIONS:WILL WADSWORTH EVER RETURN?WILL THE CHILDREN MAKE I? 10 THE HOSPITAL ON TIME?WILL VINNIE EVER FIND HAPPINESS WITH ANOTHER WOMAN,OR WILLSHE TAKE REVENGE ON EMILY BY PUBLISHING HER POETRY?STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT. EXCITING EPISODE OF ~SEARCH FOR ANYTHING:ORGAN MUSIC FADES OUT.a0

i|i|7Cold steel bodiesstifly standing in identical rowsstaring blankly.Always'taking and never giving, oOe, y oot ther Bde;"Molded in the image of their makers.

.. Glenn Lewis... Glenn Lewis- Jeff McGinnis. Dale VerzaalBack Cover 2.3.Special thanks to Robert Rasch