Day 37 - Only Laugh - Chapter 37 (1773 words)

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ONLY LAUGH WHEN IT HURTS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 37 

“Can we please confine the questions to yes or no answers if possible. If not completely possible keep the open ended nature so that bare facts that can be said in a few words at most are the answers thank you. Whether you believe Tony's story, whether you think it's all faked and part of the act or not, we have had him examined and there is significant physical atrophy in the muscles that drive his tongue and throat, and speech is hard for him. He's willing to answer all your questions truthfully and honestly, but briefly.”

Tony sat in a chair facing the audience, they had balloted to be in the auditorium for this, many had flown in from overseas to be here for even a chance to be in the audience. They all submitted questions and put their names in a draw, half of the audience were drawn from critics, pundits and journalists, but a condition of this evening was letting ordinary people into the ballot. So half were from the interested industry of the media and the rest were just ordinary people. Ordinary people who wanted to be here and ask a question of the self destructive comedian.

The chair was in the middle of the stage and behind him in a huge TV screen projection was a close up of his face and chest, so each twitch, blink and expression was on display. A lie detector was strapped to his arm, chest and fingertips and an expert sat on stage at a table next to the chair and he too had a monitor and a camera on him, trained on the print out as it would scroll through the questions.

The host for the evening was a television journalist from one of Australia’s more celebrated and serious news magazine programmers. He had button holed prime ministers and presidents, errant celebrities and criminals with equal fervour and glee and he would be the start and the finish of tonight’s activity.

“I'll read a brief statement from Tony before we start and then straight on to it. An edited version of tonight's event will be broadcast later this week, but we'll go for as long as possible or until we run out of questions. If such a thing were possible.”

The host read from a piece of paper.

“The question most of you will want answered will be why. And being honest I cannot tell you because I don't know. I do not remember planning any of this, it all just happened to me as far as I know. I let most of what happened later just happen, and some of it, most of it I did not want. It was out of my control, and it seemed like it had to happen, to me, and that every one loved it and me. That's a feeling I can't describe, but that must have not been good for me. I stepped in front of a bus to avoid it I think, but I can't know that, because that did not happen to me, the man I know now and what I can remember is all after that. I think I know what that must have felt like, because I willingly unbuckled that seat belt, not knowing if I would live or die, but that I just wanted to get away from whatever it was directed at me. If I felt that on the plane after feeling the weight of expectation and accusation and demand, then I understand that. But I am guessing, I truthfully do not remember. Ask me any question you like I will answer truthfully, but I cannot explain or tell you what I do not know.”

The host looked at the audience and gestured at the man strapped to the chair, wires and cameras trained on him and then pointed at the set up as he spoke.

“This contraption has been set up independently by us, the expert is ours paid for by us, not by Tony or his people and we have also done a blood test and screened him for any drugs or stimulants, suppressants or whatever could potentially interfere with a lie detector test. He has been in our care, so to speak for over 24 hours and we have monitored all he has drunk and eaten at his request to validate as much as possible that the results you see on screen are an accurate as possible reflection of the truth. As he believes it to be.”

He sat back in his chair and looked at Tony.

“First Question is mine then. Do your remember anything before the bus accident, I mean incident?”

“No.”

“Not even the tiniest fraction? No flashes?”

“Nothing.”

Tony cleared his throat. The host looked at the expert on the side before facing the audience again.

“We calibrated the machine extensively before we started this process and can use that as a positive baseline for his answers now.”

The expert made some notation on a tablet he held as the results scrolled on the screen above him and then made a motion pressing one of three buttons on his table. The camera angle showed that those buttons as he made his choice, said “True”, “False” and “Inconclusive”.

He pressed the “True” for the first question and the word flashed in bold big letters over the display of the scrolling needle marks on the graph.

The audience broke into applause at the answer and cheered. That made Tony annoyed the graph jumped and spiked a little as his heart rate and blood pressure took off. Why on earth was that applause even necessary? He had agreed to tell the truth, he had gone out of his way and now that he was laying himself bare so that they would believe him, they treated it like a trick or a performance for which he should be rewarded.

He looked hard at the black halo of the stage lights trained on him and was happy to not see the audience at all, their faces delighted and expectant for god knows what would have riled him he was sure, and yet the applause and cheering rolled on.

Then he remembered.

He remembered standing on stage staring at that black halo before. Hearing the crowd baying for entertainment. He could not place the time or location right now but he felt the feeling overwhelming him.

The graphs spiked and jumped and he began to sweat, the lights swam in his eyes as he received a cascading shower of deja-vu about the facing the stage, the anonymous nature of staring down the lights and the adulation, misplaced and misdirected. He recalled feeling that it was not deserved then either. The memory was uncomfortable and harsh, it threatened to drown him out, put him of place and time when he was supposed to be here and ready to answer anything.

“I remember.” He said and the applause died as they tried to silence themselves to hear the almost whispered croak of pain.

“What do you mean.”

“I remember being on stage.”

“So you do remember?” The host looked at the expert who leaned over and said something to him off the microphone, indicating the patterns on the screen above them.

“Do you mean to say you are remembering now? Right now it's coming back to you?”

Tony nodded.

“When was this? What do you remember?” The host shook his head, trying to recall his own rules about short answers. “Do you know where you were in this … memory you are having?”

“No.”

“Do you remember when it was?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what it felt like?”

“Yes, yes. Feeling.” Tony was almost in tears now and the graph was jumping backwards and forwards dementedly. This was not what he had in mind. He had just wanted to show that it was not a trick, he was a victim of someone else's success and that he just wanted to be normal again. If such a thing were possible. He wanted to lay I all bare, demystify the legend and the ulterior motives that everyone suspected or accused him of having. Deep down though, something else wanted to come out.

“Is it a good feeling or a bad?”

He shrugged in response. He could not have described his confusion, disappointment and bewilderment at the audience laughing at him bleeding. The feeling of a twinge in his side stabbed at him and he grabbed at his scar from that knife wound so long ago and checked it unceremoniously, unconsciously in front of the audience on a fifteen foot high screen.

“Do you remember being stabbed?”

“No. After that.”

“Is this that night, when you bleed through your shirt, the first night you made it back to the stage? Is that what you remember? Is it, WAS it like this now?”

“Yes?” He was unsure, but it felt true, he could feel a wetness and a redness on the edge of his consciousness, he knew it was not here and now, it felt superimposed.

The audience held it's collective breath until he answered yes, but then erupted in applause and stood, giving a fleeting connection with a feeling of fear a frustration an ovation. That amplified his emotions and then it cut through the recollection like a knife and the feelings clicked off as if a switch had severed the circuit in his heart.

The polygraph settled and his heart rate and blood pressure lowered noticeably on the screen. The Host watching Tony carefully motioned to the audience to calm down and sit with a patting of his hand in the air in front of them and then waited until Tony had calmed down and then opened the floor to the first question.

“Hi. I am a huge fan, but I never understood why you had to go so far. I guess that meant that I never knew or guessed what you would do next or how far you would go. And that was exciting. I know you don't remember it all, maybe you recall more now. But you said you undid that seat belt in the plane and we all saw you step in front of that bus on the video. You climbed onto that roof in storm, next to a lightning rod right?”

The host asked a question of the speaker. “Is that your question?”

“Do you want to die?”

Tony blinked.