Free Emma Who Saved My Life by Wilton Barnhardt Page A

after a tense private three-minute meeting offstage, Ira returned all strained smiles, with instructions.
    â€œWe are now going to enact Evolution! You will be creatures progressing from the slime, on your bellies, crawling from under the blanket, and evolving, growing, changing…” As he said these words he evolved and allowed his gesturing hands to grow and change and flutter. “Some of you will be birds, some of you will evolve into mammals feeding your young, I want to see suckling, nurturing, we’ll see primates, some horses, some…” Ira seemed stuck for an animal.
    â€œGerbils,” suggested Ryke.
    â€œ Yes, gerbils,” cried Ira, enthusiastically. “I’m glad you contributed that, Ryke. Thank you, I want to thank you for your input.”
    Ryke looked slightly mollified.
    â€œWhat are you going to evolve to?” Francine asked me in a whisper. “I think I’ll be a kitty cat.”
    Just as joylessly, I said I’d stay primordial slime—I mean, someone has to stay behind and be protozoa. I noticed a few auditionees slipping away toward the door.
    â€œEveryone under the blanket!” yelled Ira. He then began to narrate the big bang, the history of the universe, the earth cooling down, volcanos erupting (he would erupt, making noises like: KUSSSHHHHH, BRRRRRRRGGGG, BOOOOMMMM ), then the age of the dinosaurs, squawking beasts …
    â€œNow everyone,” he said, coaching, “put the noises of your animal with your gestures…” The stage exploded in a melee of meows and moos and barks and grunts. “Yes! Yes! That’s wonderful! I see … yes, I see you, young man, that is a fine lion—beautiful roar—yes, you’ve thrown yourself into it … I see you’re going to attack that—what are you dear? An ibex? Yes, they attack, they kill—it’s the jungle!” The auditionees started rolling around pawing and scratching each other. All except Francine who was doubled over in laughter.
    THEN we got to be circus performers and we all were free to pick what we were (I, fittingly, was a clown). THEN we were a machine and we had to touch each other and interconnect (I was a piston going up and down). THEN we were all sea creatures under the ocean (I decided to be a motionless bed of kelp). THEN we had to be forms and shapes—each of us had to be a gesture that expressed our innermost soul: “No blocking allowed!”
    Ira clapped his hands after this to bring us to attention. Then he raised his hands high above his head so we could see the giant sweat stains on his T-shirt. “Bravo! Bravo! You’re working for me! Bravo, I say. There was some superb inter-relating—didn’t you think so, Ryke?”
    Ryke, sulking again, barely audible: “Uh-huh.”
    â€œAnd now,” said Ira, lifting himself, huffing and puffing, onstage. “Now, the centerpiece of Experience 27, like in 18 and 24 of the series, will be the Assumption of the Earth Chief, in which the Earth Chief, the prime Speaker, the bearer of the logos, is conveyed by the supporting tribe…” Far from the confusion I felt, some of my fellow auditionees were nodding seriously, understanding this drivel. “So what we’re after now is the bearing, the assumption of the master. Now I…” Ira cleared his throat, and shuffled a bit, “ I will be the Master of Experience 27, re-creating my role of chieftain from 18 and 24 which had a similar processional—”
    â€œIt was Experience 17, ” Ryke said from the orchestra seats.
    â€œIt was 18, Ryke,” snapped Ira. “I wrote it, I ought to know which experience it was—”
    â€œOh you’re always right, aren’t you? It was 17 where the troupe carried you around the stage and up and down the aisles—I’m sure of this Ira, because I helped co-write some of that.”
    Ira, now irritated, repeatedly