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The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher
Now Showing!
The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher!
Admission is Free!
Hurry hurry! Step right up, the show is about to begin! You there with the spidery nose hairs—you there in the rainbow socks—you there reading on the bus—you there in your bed—you there in the cafe—you there scratching yourself—on the plane—in the car—in the bathroom—sitting beside the rain filled window—follow the bewitching sound of the beckoning calliope but keep your senses keen for Mr. Fletcher, the Fabulous and the Fluxuous, can be quite hypnotic! Step right up, this enticing engagement costs nothing but your time and attention! All other magicians are charlatan lords of quack shows when put on the same stage with Mr. Fletcher. Taught from childhood these articulate arts, the Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher will mesmerize all and sundry! You of little faith, enter these doors and witness with your own eyes the most amazing demonstration of the Black Arts! Beyond legerdemain, beyond prestidigitation, beyond sleight of hand, beyond the beyond! Only inside can you see it for yourself and you pay nothing. That’s right, nothing! The Fabulous and the Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher uses no wires! The Fabulous and the Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher uses no smoke screens! If law would allow it, Mr. Fletcher would perform naked to prove once and for all that nothing is up his anything! Stop your babbling, quit your blubbering and proceed into the premises to experience the profound and the profane! Scientists and skeptics submit your cells to the unexplainable elements of this entertainment extravaganza! Hurry Hurry! The show is about to begin!
murmermurmermurmermurmermurmermurmermurmermurmer….
Ladies and gentleman! Boys and girls! May I have your attention please! Without any further ado, the man you have been waiting for, The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher!
clapclapclapwistleclapclapclapwistleclapclapclapwistleclapclap…
The house lights droop and nod to sleep. Vague shapes exist for a moment before the theater blackens.
murmermurmermurmermurmermurmer…
The sounds of ropes rolling on pulleys struggling with the curtain quiets the crowd down to a random mutter or a parental “shhh.”
clop clop clop clop clop
1/3 stage left, the heavy steps stop.
Silence stretched but not burst, the voice is deep enough to beckon thunder, yet delicate as a flake of gilding gold.
“Beelzebub may be bewitching, but let him observe my own illusions and deceptions and he shall see as you will that I am neither here nor there, yet am capable of seducing the mind as the ‘will-o’-the-wisp.’
Stammering through the darkness, your optical mind has already created my first illusion, the conjuring of a strangely precise image, veiled in fog, of what I should appear to you to be. But take a deep breath and clear the mist, watching closely my curious comrades, because I am afraid I do not even exist!”
Glitter and clamor howls the brazen gong! Mid-crowd, extreme right, a beacon of light surges to the ceiling, then falls languidly towards center stage as a tree taken by ax. Parting the black sea, the disk of light tumbles down the ruffled black curtain at the rear of the stage. A shadow head impregnates the egg against the curtain, followed by shoulders, chest, waist, legs—but where is Mr. Fletcher in the flesh? The stage is void of person, yet a shadow exists.
Ahhhhhhoooohhhhclapclapclapclapclapclap…
“Ha ha ha,” laughs the voice as the shadowy jaw moves, “so you see that you don’t see, but you do see, don’tyou?”
Hahahahahahahhohohahohahaha
“And uplifting the veil, you must be glad that you still can’t see since I appear to be quite bald and quite nearly naked, and I assure you that that is a sight you don’t want to see.”
Hahahaahahaha..,
The right arm of Mr. Fletcher gestures as though introducing his next words as a guest entering a room. “Now to ensure you against any fraud of my non-existence, I propose a few explanations to my absence. One: I am merely standing against the curtain in a black body suit, but is quite obvious that I would have to be ten feet tall, which I am not, and if I were, it wouldn’t be very wise to challenge me now—would it?”
murmerhahamurmermumerhaha…
“Two:a black colored mannequin has been placed on the stage and is being manipulated by a master puppeteer with well concealed wires or strings. But if that were so, could the puppet stand on its head like this?” Leaping like a spider, the goliath shadow spins a delicate cartwheel into a perfectly erect headstand.
clapclapclapwhistleclapwhistleclap…
“Haha! and again I contort, my head is upside down but my words sound right side up!”
Hahahahahahahaha…
A crouch, a bound, Mr. Fletcher is on his feet again, landing legs apart, arms reaching upward, head back.
“Bring down the white curtain of thunder and expose me if you will!”
A brazen boom!
Aaaaaaaaah… the crowd is throttled.
Stage left, stage right, at their extremes, thunder duds of explosions illuminate all that there is, but is not, with a flashing white light. There is curtain noire, there is velvet drapery red on either side, there is floor of stage wooden, and there is air empty where there was Mr. Fletcher supposed to be.
Gasp… stammerstammerclapoohaaahhclapwhistleahhclapclapBravoclapwhistleclapclapclapclapwhistle…
A white bright fog green and smoky yellow coats the audience’s eyes and the pupils struggle with bounding dilations and contractions to comprehend what can be seen and what has been seen already now that the theater has returned to its original blackness. A blink, a turn of the head, the muddy hologram of the stage latent in the eyes is visible even if one casts a gaze into the nothing above.
murmermurmermurmer…
clop clop clop
1/2 stage left, 1/2 stage right, the steps cease, silence bestills the anxious eyes.
Clack!—shouts the mechanisms of the spot, its mighty iris opening, reviving the shadowy prestidigitator upon the curtain 1/3 stage right. A faint stirring occurs in the lower skull of The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher who is now represented in a perfect posture form with arms straight down at either side. The words form slowly, resonating with deep vibrancy.
“Tonight’s show, my friends, is not merely a sorcery of sight, but of sounds and syllables. I present to you a minute word,” unraveling to a perpendicular from the elbow, the right arm of The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher extends itself into a platform of palm and fingers. 7/16 stage right, 9/16 stage left, front stage, mid-air, a white block of wood carved into the word “THE” levitates. Behind, stage right, an oversized shadow of the word rests on the dark apparition hand. “Observe this tiny word before you. Physically, it floats multi-dimensionally, it’s fraternal twin pressed upon the curtain as a shadow along with my image. It is a word, our most common word, the word ‘THE.’ But for my next illusion, I will need a volunteer. Young man, in the front row, with the shirt red. Yes you. What is your name sir?”
“My name is—uh—Terry.”
“Terry?”
“Yes, Terry,”
“Terry, I am going to need you to repeat something for me to the audience, do you think you can do that for me?”
“Uh—sure.”
“Great. Ladies and gentleman, Terry is going to repeat a sentence for me loud enough for all of you to hear. Terry, would you please say, ‘When the magician’s hand beckons, the word shalt not be uttered.’”
“When the magician’s hand beckons, the word shalt not be uttered.”
“Good, but again if you would please, a little louder this time to be sure the good people in the back heard you clearly.”
“When the magician’s hand beckons, the word shalt not be uttered!”
“Excellent! Thank you Terry, but don’t take your seat yet. First, behold!” Mr. Fletcher slightly turning, raises his left hand, and passing it before letters upon the right, the white block reading “THE” levitating at 9/16 stage left, 7/16 stage right vanishes with completion of the downward swipe, yet the shadowy illusion of it remains pressed against curtain.
ahhhhhh….
“Terry, if you would please repeat your sentence once again loud and clear for all to hear.”
When magician’s hand beckons, word shalt not be uttered. Wait! When magician’s hand beckons, word shalt not be uttered. I… I can’t seem to say word.”
“Yes, yes, you can’t say it can you?”
“No, um—no I can’t.”
“Thank you Terry, you can take your seat now. A big round of applause for Terry,” says the magician beckoning for applause with his left arm free of word.
clapclapclapclapclap…
muttermuttermutterastonishgaspmuttergaspastonishstammerstammer
bewildermentclapclapclaproarwhistleclaproarclaproarRoarSTANDINGROAR!
“Ha ha!—I see that you have discovered by method of muttering amongst yourself that young man I volunteered was not paid to perform this bewitchment since when you went to confide in person beside you, you found that lips moved, formed letters, tongue pressed against teeth, but you could not pass air through vocal chords to utter this tiny word resting upon my hand. Yet, like shadow in my palm, this tiny word was as clear in your mind as if it had been shouted in your ear.”
clapclapCLAPclapWhistleClapCLAPclap…
“Ha ha!—now suppose I suggest this word be exchanged by the passing of my hand with another word, say… ‘ZOP’.”
hahahahaha…
“And so shall it be.”(Note: It has been decreed that all words spoken within the confines of parenthesis are immune to the hexings of The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher. This is especially important at this time so that it can be described to you the exchange of the word “THE” for the word “ZOP” in the manner of the passing of one hand before the other as done before, leaving the word “ZOP” levitating in white block form in the coordinates also aforementioned, and of course, its shadow resting on the palm platform in the rear stage right corner.)
Oooooooohhhhh…
“Seeing now that zop spell has been cast, I ask you to test its power, turn to your neighbor and speak what ever you will.”
mutterzopzopmuttermutterzopmutterzop
muttermuttermutterzopzopzopmutterzop
hahahacheerCHEERhahacheerCLAPclapWHISTLECLAP
clapwhistleclapCLAPCLAPCLAPWHISTLECLAPCLAP
“Thank you, thank you very much, thank you. And to express my appreciation for your generous applause which you have offered me all evening, I will set things right as quickly as possible—I would hate for some unfortunate mishap to confine your tongue to speaking zop word zop forever, (GASP) just kidding, zop spell wears off in only a few minutes (ahhh… hahahah…), but to be safe, would you all, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please recite for me loud and clear what ‘T’, ‘H’, ‘E’ spells.”
Slightly out of time in multiple rhythms, zop crowd bursts, “Zop!”
hahahahahahah…
Another wave of zop hand that sheds no light, and zop letters levitating at zop painstakingly precise location reconfigure themselves into zop word “THE”, lifting the spell from the tongues of all whom were hexed. “So now tell me my kind friends, what do the letters ‘T’, ‘H’, ‘E’ spell?”
“The!”
roarRoarROARLEAPINGTOTHEFEETROARANDAPPLAUSE!
A quick curl and flick of the wrist absorbs the word “THE” into a fist which flings glistening glitter over the heads of those in the front rows center.
MUCHTOTHEDELIGHTOFTHEAPPLAUDINGCROWD!
A flap, a flutter, a rippling of a cloth cloak twirling about our mysterious magician, and in a blink, there is shadow no more. Only an orb white.
The crowd, caught confused—a mutter in the mouth, a clap between the palms—find their tongues bound and their hands fettered when, as if passing through the curtain from a cloud, The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher returns to the midst of the orb, legs crossed, hands in lap, hovering several feet above the stage floor, speaking, “Shecka Lotom Bethomis Hydrie Sopnatsta,” in a voice that has such depth and such width that a true point of is not discernable even if one were to close their eyes and only listen.
Those with heightened senses touch their ribs for they swear they could feel the bones vibrating in the oration, while those who stammer before mystery and nonsense twitch nervously, the matter beneath the skull tingling, wondering if they should arise and flee, but as if under a spell (which they are certain they are), cannot seem to command enough volition to command their trembling legs to carry them away.
Hushhhhhhh… drizzles over the crowd. He speaks again.
“MasheekaMasheeka Lastearono Padadulum Thunder clouds and chariots of Egypt SekhalMeeta Ponata pillars of fire and staffs that slither as snakes Hydom Elikweeiall come to mind when one speaks with tongues. Zanatia Norifuta Malla Cartheisi along with rivers of blood Lolis Pepit burning bushes Matas Romer and the fantastic sorcery performed by the mighty Moses upon the weak minds of the Pharaoh and his court Halla Halla Lashanta Malla Karmuthisi! But despite his seemingly illimitable powers Verdichi Iosisto Moses the Magnificent cold not accomplish this feat of witching Hydrium Callatusi the speaking in tongues of men and of angels.”
A breeze of sorcery blows the arms of Mr. Fletcher about himself as branches dancing in the breath of a summer’s night.
“Vapors! Shallaputra vapors of Delphi’s ancient Oracle Eareeta Tatareen words of Apollo ride upon you Laishantee Ofeefe! Imbue us with your voice! Suopa Eatom Oost!”
There is a sound. A sound coming from the sorcerer of shade. A sound that corresponds with the swelling of his chest. A sound of heavy breathing, long and deep and full of volume. Could there be a visage upon this lightless face, it would be an unmistakable countenance of a density so heavy in mass that its magnitude lures in the destruction of all dagger shaped enigmas, all blighted platitudes, all insipid logic since all that is nonsense and all that is confusion becomes all that is real and all that makes perfect sense, freeing the spirit to engorge the flesh with electromagnetic wholeness which radiates like God light, piercing the very boundaries of the firmament.
The void of Mr. Fletcher the Fabulous and Fluxuous, all full of curtain ruffles and fabric blackness surrounded by a white aura, waxes and wanes with breath. The audience can no longer gasp, can no longer stammer, can no longer question the rushing of wind filling their lungs as they too breath in heavy swells as does the magician before them.
Intoxicated exaltation!
“Lashata Pleoe Notom Mishfip Ballitus Eifis Mitop Yasweet Hopoinia Fallip Fifastar!”
A fiery poof! The shadow bursts into flames! As the arms wave, bits of glowing fabric fall as ember snow, the white aura healing the curtain as quickly as it was destroyed. Cooling, the magician returns to his curtain state, but the wake of his igniting rolls through the lake before him as silver glistenings shimmering on rippling lips quivering quietly upon each and every face of each and every person fixed to their theater seat.
“Yes… yes… Iamotatoosee Imishee Imisheelet your lips move with inspiration Alleyaaa Mosheefa Sneesnos Simpuleest Oohiii. Once you spoke as a child, now let your tongue remember those babbillic recitals Shimot Filliput Uisnoo Volea breath in the elixir of… Salaca Motee Alimustipa! and speak forth, speak forth with tongues as you did whence you were a child, innocent and all knowing! Let me hear you rejoice Toleah Leenee Leenivistrum! Let me hear you rejoice in a celebration of enlightenment! Lashanta Allahshantee! Transcend my friends into your new found bliss and my grandest illusion of all, the speaking in tongues as your spirit sings with divine utterance! SakeemAllakamore!”
shoofmusdfnstatustimderropix… trickles at first from the timid lips of the mesmerized apprentices seated in rows of cushioned chairs. Heads of blond, heads of gray, heads of red, heads of black, heads of hat, heads of skin move round about, seeking reassurance that they are not the only face with lips moving by a will not their own.
But “Hisperium Utommipaisti Hyleckapie Amosti Creenote,” exalted from the magician’s mouth rattles bones like a burst of thunder and those with heightened fright speak all the louder, sucking the words out like a vacuum from the lungs of those who pause for a flash powder moment, causing a great siphoning momentum of utterance tissue forth from the crowd.
hiAmWputiesdnwiEIDoeiDxREHJnUmceGioFDGwUqOqopPoKeCnEviOeriiehlkd…
The Fabulous & Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher leaps from his vacant pedestal…
DHPeDhNrusEVKrhFOfreEIdNd… his voice lost amongst the many mysterious syllables…
fdArejDOyoPEiIiBjNKljhjCyhmVyjN… but he dances a witch doctor dance…
hyEsPDsIKgDrKEnaruEogKSOyWgkiPVN… shadowy jaw jittering…
fPqghQlygqGkHBNVkMytCgMOdAgEecTIeT… his shape changing colors…
ItIJIgrOHVrOnUVINn… to an ember red glow…
TOeEdrIjykDfbNrEOAhENCKEioOPfDIOPvRHAeDPi… flames suddenly igniting…
DEeOeedGuytNDLgEOcGmNiDNVEhOreQcNI… where his black curtain skin…
HGeoHDiIEpqnfEOdkEIjkodn… meets the white curtain light…
NEoIadiOgdgiIyoGEO… and he dances madly…
eIcOIaUqwEHIEiuvhDIh… fully consumed in licking flames…
hITepcxEapZmprmJRidlIfnwe… as a cloven tongue of fire in human shape…
qqOrIjeoIxmPieoDnQjrojjA… leaping and bounding…
DpelFxjjoqpofdjiitd… to the music of the tongues…
vVelitoREOIDjdkcalqo… that swarm about the theater…
The curtain burns wherever the flaming shadow of The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher is cast, but the glowing disk that follows Mr. Fletcher’s every fiery move, heals the wound, making the curtain whole again with its passing and the crowd does not fear this flailing flaming apparition before them for they too feel as though the doors of a mighty furnace have been opened in a mysterious place in their being, spewing out white hot heat of fire that is cleansing them as they utter the words that they cannot not understand but yet can comprehend with the clarity of a sparkling jewel.
†††
Now in the days following the performance of The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher, the memories of those who attended the haunting show have been found to be as fluxuous as The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher himself.
Many, when asked about the act, become foggy-eyed, distant, and much to their disappointment, cannot seem to put the details together in a structure lucid enough to explain the experience. Yet, they seem to be sure it was “quite spectacular.”
Others, when questioned publicly, become highly agitated and refuse to discuss the event entirely, or even go as far as to deny that they were even at the theater on that particular night.
But among the people whose memories are more acute, most of the debate has centered itself around the exact way The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher presented the crowd with his grand finale. And within this group, the final sentences can be written three different ways.
At certain point, some say, when the strange syllables had procured an overwhelming state of mesmerism, the flaming magician leapt high into the air above the crowd where he burst into hundreds of balls of fire that swirled in the air for only blink before entering the bodies of all persons bound to their seats. Those who hold this belief also say that, “… since the show, I have not been able to shake a constant nervousness, almost a terror, as if someone is watching me and sometimes I feel something brush past me, but when I turn to look, nothing is there.”
Another group, cursed with the same neurosis as the first, claims that, “… the curtain suddenly became a great wall of flames, engulfing The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher, then it rushed over the crowd at a great speed. Only as it passed over, there was no heat, but instead a tingling chill followed by a violent shudder that shook the entire body.” (Note: It should also be said that both of these groups have little or no recollection as to their actions and whereabouts during the first several hours after they were “touched” by The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher.)
But most of the those with a memory still intact hold to the words written in the next day’s paper by the local columnist A.P. Becker:
“…it was a strange mingling of terror and peace that overcame me as I babbled like a child, watching this flaming specter dancing before me, hardly able to believe my eyes—but the spell had such a hold on me I was ultimately unafraid. Even when at the zenith of our hypnosis, when all present were shouting out nonsense at the top of their lungs, and when The Fabulous and Fluxuous Mr. Fletcher suddenly burst apart, flames racing like veins through the curtain that instantly caught fire then reappeared intact again as the house lights came up while our voices grew rapidly still, I heard a voice like a calm, dark, silence saying, ‘Allaheeta Bonequiti… and all other words that mean Peace Be Unto You.’
In silence, (not a single person had clapped, or even spoken after the show was over) we left the theater for our homes, emptying our wallets and pocketbooks into the baskets held in the hands of his many apprentices, taking with us an experience enriched with enough mystery to disturb us for a lifetime.”
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