My incorrectly attempted piece

Wow... I totally didn't follow the directions. Instead, I ripped off Tom Stoppard w/o really realizing it until it was way, way too late.

The formatting is nowhere near done, but I can't figure out how to do dialogue tags w/ unnamed characters.

Explain again about the sword.

It's a weapon, primarily used for cutting or thrusting, occasionally clubbing.

No, why do I need the sword?

It's authoritative. It'll scare the hell out of her, no pun intended.

I think I'm going to be authoritative enough. I mean, the doors are going to open, she's going to see me, I'm going to have all the Heavenly light on me. She's going to be scared. She's a Danish girl living in the nineteenth century. She's never seen anything like me before.

You have to have the sword.

I have to?

Yes, have to.

It's preordained.

What are you, stupid? Of course it's preordained, is anything we do not preordained? You're going to do it, I don't even know why you're talking about it. It's not like you have a choice.

I'm just saying, if Anyone's listening, it's a little much. It's like bringing a gun to a knife fight.

That's not how it works. And get in the moment, it's Denmark, it's the 1800s, There's no knife fights. You're not Marlon Brando here.

You just said I can't get my lines wrong.

Well, no, you can't.

So, why do you care if I'm being anachronistic while I'm getting ready?

It just doesn't seem appropriate.

Like scaring some freaked little girl who's got a pair of possessed shoes on her feet with a sword.

You're going to scare her anyway.

You're arguing my point again, you do realize that, don't you? I just said the same thing you did. But I said it before.

Before what?

Before now. Just before now.

You're a inter dimensional, nonlinear being, there is no before.

Then why are we waiting? Why can't we just go?

You can't go yet. There are reasons. It's not ready.

Are we almost ready?

Not really, I mean, there's a while left.

Half way ready?

No.

Fine.

Not much longer, I promise.

You're promises are sort of empty--you don't have any control over whether or not you keep them.

I guarantee you, there's not much time left.

Fine. I believe you. It's not like you can lie to me.

How much time left?

Exactly the same as before.

But it felt like--what's the word--it passed.

It didn't. Doesn't work that way.

Oh.

Sorry.

Um. Red shoes, red shoes, angels wanna wear my red shoes, red shoes.

Don't sing that.

Something something their wings rusted something something angels wanna wear my red shoes.

It's really annoying. If you don't know the lyrics, don't sing it.

How do you think our wings rust? You've been out in the rain, right?

I've been out in the rain for an eternity.

An eternity? Really? I think that's overstating it. You just said you don't have any comprehension of time.

It's complicated.

This feels like it's taking forever.

It always takes this long.

I remember being out in the rain. It rained, it stopped. That's linear.

That's on the mortal plane. Sure, if you're perceiving linear time unfold on the mortal plane, it's going to seem linear to you, but it's not linear. You're not experiencing it linearly.

So I'm nonlinearly experiencing a linear event?

Yeah.

It's confusing.

Well, then it's meant to be confusing.

I never knew, is Elvis Costello's name supposed to have something to do with Elvis Presley or is his name just Elvis?

Why would I know that?

I could go look it up.

You can't leave.

I can come back. I'm sure I have time. I'm sure you're going to give me a countdown from a hundred before I have to go on, scare the crippled girl.

She's not crippled yet. And don't call it that, call it handicapped.

Seriously? Really? I have to be nice about it.

We're almost halfway there.

And then we're done.

Well, no. I mean, with the hard stuff.

You don't think this part is harder than the rest is going to be? This part's pretty lame, it's pretty miserable. It just goes on and on and on.

Well.

I know, I know, it doesn't really go on and on, but it seems like it does. As I perceive it, it does. Even though it doesn't. Ok?

This isn't a test.

Really, not a test? Everything around here is a test. I've got to go terrify some poor kid with my wings flared up and big giant sword. I mean, look at this thing, it looks like something you'd see in a really bad Broadway show.

Eh. No, stop. Remember? Anachronisms.

I can't get my lines wrong. I thought we'd resolved this--I can say whatever I want because I'm going to get my lines wrong. If I want to, I can't, right?

Right, but--I don't like the conversation. I don't like this conversation.

That's too bad. You didn't have to come. You're here because it's a non-test test. It's like a trick practice test. You say it's not a test, but then it turns out it's really a test.

It's not a test.

Everything's a test. The poor kid's being tested.

Would you stop calling her a poor kid? She's not a poor kid. She's ignoring her dying stepmother for a pair of red shoes.

Red shoes, red shoes.

Shut up.

She is a poor kid. Born in poverty, right? If I'm nonlinear and I'm affecting a linear existence, she's always poor to me. She's always the same, no matter where she is, right?

I'm not an expert on this subject. I just know what I know.

The song.

What song?

I won't get any older--think about those lyrics. I won't get any older. Now that angels wanna wear my red shoes. Now that angels want to wear my red shoes. It's causal. Elvis Presley won't get any older because angels--angels--want to wear his red shoes.

Elvis Costello.

Sorry. But, anyway, it's causal. He the mortal won't get any older because of us. Because of our desire. For his red shoes.

I don't want red shoes.

I don't either.

You're not visiting Elvis Costello. You're visiting Karen. Karen doesn't want her red shoes. Elvis Costello's red shoes are happy shoes.

You could say they're gay.

What? Seriously? Who are you, Mel Gibson? Gay jokes? Wow.

I don't have a choice in what I say, how can you be mad about what I say if I don't have a choice in it.

I'm not mad.

Maybe you're mad at Someone Else.

I'm not mad at Someone Else, I'm not mad at anyone. I just think gay jokes are dumb and whatever. I find them offensive.

It's a pun.

It's not a pun.

It was a pun. A pun is a play on words. You had a pun.

When? Don't say before, either. Don't even say it.

A pun is a play on words.

This is exactly why I didn't want to talk anachronistically. We talk time period appropriate and we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

We don't have to talk time period appropriate. That's one of the perks of a nonlinear existence. Being an IDNLB has its perks.

I had to--I'm sorry, a what?

An inter dimensional, nonlinear being.

I had to tell you about that. You didn't know that. You just made that up.

When did you tell me about that?

I told you about it. Um.

Yeah, exactly. Um. I don't want to talk about Denmark in the eighteenth century. Nobody talks about Denmark in the eighteenth century.

Danes in the eighteenth century do.

They don't know there's an Elvis Costello to talk about. If they did, they'd talk about Elvis Costello. They'd talk about Slim Whitman if they could--or indoor plumbing. Please, these mortals wipe their posteriors with leaves and things like that. It's disgusting.

I don't think they--oh, you're on.

When?

Now.

.... open church door, she saw an angel standing there. He wore long, white garments; he had wings which reached from his shoulders to the earth; his countenance was severe and grave; and in his hand he held a sword, broad and glittering.

"Dance shalt thou!" said he. "Dance in thy red shoes till thou art pale and cold! Till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton! Dance shalt thou from door to door, and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt knock, that they may hear thee and tremble! Dance shalt thou—!"

"Mercy!" cried Karen. But she did not hear the angel's reply ....

There, was that so bad?

But we're not done yet?

No, not quite yet.

I think we should just go.

You have to go back on.

You didn't say that. The girl didn't even hear my reply she's being tormented so much and now I have to go back on and do it some more?

No, no. It's all going to be okay. That's why you don't have the sword anymore.

I had a sword?

Oh, shut up, don't worry about it. You don't even have any lines. You just make her feel good.

She loses the shoes?

Her feet get cut off.

What?

She has to cut off her feet because the red shoes are grown into them. Or her feet have grown in to the shoes. It's not clear.

That's awful.

Well, you did condemn her.

I didn't have a choice. All those thous and thees, those aren't my choice either. It's not my choice.

I didn't say it was.

Thank you.

But you did condemn her.

Anyway. What happens?

She gets her feet cut off and then she gets these wooden ones put on. But you still don't let her into church on Sunday.

Nice of me.

Well, she hasn't asked for Someone's help yet.

Oh, that's not my fault. That's her fault. Maybe she should have been thinking of Someone Else, you know what I'm saying?

I know exactly what you're saying--it's not your fault.

I'm not responsible.

Exactly.

So then what?

She gets to Heaven.

She dies?

It's Denmark in the nineteenth century. She let some doofus chop her feet off--her condemned feet--and slap some fake wood ones the stubs. I mean, hello infection. But she gets to Heaven.

How do you know all this?

It's a famous story.

What's a famous story?

The Red Shoes.

The song.

No.

There's a movie.

No. The story. The fairy tale. Hans Christian Anderson.

Did Disney do a cartoon?

I don't know. Not a movie.

Wait, it's a story. I had to go into a story?

Yeah. I mean, you're there, so it's not like you can't not go.

I'm confused. How do I go into a story?

You just did. I don't understand the question.

So I have to go into stories too?

No, just this one.

Do I have to do it again?

No, not really. I mean, if you think of it like this, like stories are all there own dimensions, then you just were being a--I'm not going to say it.

An IDNLB.

Whatever.

Fine, but don't I have to do it every time someone reads the story?

Not you, no. A different you, yes.

Another me?

Right. Another IDNLB who does the same thing you do, only hasn't already done it.

Well, where do I go?

You go back on in a little while.

After I go back on.

I don't know.

This doesn't make any sense. All I'm good for is this one thing? I can fly, I can sword fight, I can sing.

You can't sing.

I can sing.

I've heard good singers. You can't sing.

I'm good at Trivial Pursuit.

That doesn't help much here.

Why the hell do I get stuck with this one?

Ours is not to reason why.

I have so many qualities.

I know. How do you think I feel? I'm stuck here with you, aren't I? It's not like I'm getting to do anything else.

Well, if I'd known that, I wouldn't have talked anachronistically. I didn't know it bugged you.

I did tell you.

When?

Shh, you're on again.

straight before her stood the angel of God in white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church door; but he no longer carried the sharp sword, but in its stead a splendid green spray, full of roses. And he touched the ceiling with the spray, and the ceiling rose so high, and where he had touched it there gleamed a golden star. And he touched the walls

Wow, so she's got, like, blood poisoning leading to delirium too. That's not good.

No.

Could be worse.

Sure.

So this is basically it?

Kind of. I mean, there's a little more, then it's it.

I guess I feel a little better, I mean, I did help her out.

Sure; but not until she'd chopped her damned feet off.

That's supposed to be funny? That's terrible.

Hey, it's a pun. I thought puns were okay. Besides, it's not like I had any control over it.

I keep feeling like there's something I should do.

There isn't.

It just seems useless.

It's an important job. Look at me, I don't complain and all I do is talk to you. I don't even to make an appearance or anything. I just talk to you.

Maybe next time I can let her keep the feet.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

You know what?

No. And shut up. It's over.