Five Thots on March First

I endure deadly rituals to climb to the top of secret societies; then I publicize all their mysteries. I like to make things known and free. My favorite movie scene is when the little dog Toto pulls back the curtain to unveil that the Wizard of Oz is just a frumpy old man using a laptop computer to edit his news broadcasts. So I became a magician just to reveal how all the tricks are done. You might say: “Bryan, you’re ruining our amusements!” But the truth is that I offer even more fun than you were having before — I improve upon those times when you believed that illusions were genuine; for I perform TRUE miracles, which nobody can explain.

II

I invented an automobile called “The Turtle”: it is shaped like a giant tortoise from the dinosaur age. Instead of wheels like a regular car, it has mechanical feet that move very slowly but surely. And it is solar powered — not to save on gasoline, but rather because I preferred that it should refuse to budge when the weather is overcast. This way, people are encouraged to bask in the less vulgar days. Also the user is able to retract all the vehicle’s limbs. And I instructed my engineers to install a reservoir that can be filled with fuel, just to underscore the above claim that I’m not trying to manufacture a creature who is good for the environment: My creature is as evil as I am — the fuel is for its flame-shooting nostrils. And do not forget to change the thing’s oil.

III

I’m all for allowing people to take advantage of any system. I don’t think that most folks would want to cheat, anyway. For instance, my fellow chefs and I have decided to spend eternity offering smorgasbord after smorgasbord of hot and cold meats, salads, hors d’oeuvres, and jelly-filled pastries, at no charge, to everyone. Anyone who has an appetite may take whatever they want, and we continue to replenish all the items. Now, let’s say that some angel arrives before our free feast and decides to fill his pockets with foodstuffs, so as to bring this cuisine back to heaven and sell it. This angel was not even interested in eating — the motive for action was monetary gain. When news of such behavior reaches me, I react by huddling with my fellow chefs and saying: “Ladies and gentlemen, let us continue to prepare and serve all of our dishes, wholly gratis, just as we have been doing until this moment. Let heaven’s thief act as he pleases. Eventually even our overlords will figure out that what we are offering is abundance, and that scarcity is passé.” Thus we never halt production of our delectables.

IV

It would also be funny if you could transform yourself into a multitude of beautiful women and go loiter in the red-light district. You could then scope the scene until you spot a transaction that’s ready to occur: “Excuse me, sir and ma’am,” you’d address this couple, “I couldn’t help but notice that the two of you seem to have eyes for each other, as the kids say nowadays.” “Not exactly,” the woman would answer. “How so?” you’d ask. “Well, the man has eyes for ME,” she would reply, “but I have eyes only for this gentleman’s purse, which is filled with golden coins.” And then the two of you would stare for a moment at all the glowing money that is indeed nearly spilling from the fellow’s leather satchel. Recall now that you have transformed into a multitude of beautiful women: each of these females that you now are will offer free love to each bloke who is willing to pay for such services; therefore you will cause the institution of harlotry to evaporate; however, before doing so, you pass a glossy pamphlet to each of the ladies of the evening, on the back cover of which is printed a map that shows the directions to the feast that I Bryan Ray and my chefs are endlessly replenishing. 

What I’m trying to say is that everything will turn out fine. 

V

Alright, now what shall we do with our genius, since we solved all the world’s problems? I say we create a drama for television. We can call it “The Adventures of Officer Bryan and Officer Fate”. And the ongoing joke will be that the character that you play, dear reader, whose name is Officer Fate, every single episode, will end up accidentally bringing my own character to justice. Let’s give it a try:

Officer Bryan and Officer Fate enter a jewelry store and begin to shop for wedding rings. “Ooh, look at this one,” gasps Officer Bryan, holding up a piece of driftwood that is painted turquoise. Suddenly, an attractive cat-burglar enters the shop and announces in a voice of friendly curiosity: “Who pulled the emergency cop alarm before I even got a chance to rob this joint?” — Now Officer Fate aims her shotgun at the cat-burglar, but Officer Bryan shouts “No!” in slow motion and dives in front of the culprit, while the bullets riddle the scene. All the ammo enters Officer Bryan’s chest and slays him instantly. Officer Fate kneels next to her partner’s corpse and whispers “Bry, are you OK?” The final shot of this episode is Officer Bryan’s bloody mouth saying “You killed me in a terrible misunderstanding, but I’m glad that I saved the life of that youthful cat-burglar. Please purchase the turquoise ring that I was browsing earlier and have it gift-wrapped; then send it via the United States Postal Service to the criminal’s parents, as a token of my respect.” At this point, the show’s credits begin to appear superimposed over Officer Bryan’s blood-gushing mouth on the TV screen, as the heartwarming theme song fades in.