The Festival. Night Three.

All right, definitely not really getting to this enough to try and pull some sort of live-streaming-feed investigative gonzo journalist. Dr. Thompson was truly a unique man with extraordinary fortitude and stamina in his essays, articles and novels. I have not found this stamina yet. Saw the debut of Lot's Wife version 2.0 by Travis Grant, it is so strange how a piece can move from locations and casts and still hold the same effects, the same intensity. I saw Antigone. It did not keep me awake. Nathan made it to the Final Rounds, which start in approximately two hours.

We found this room full of the cast of Nine Parts of Desire, and I apologized for not seeing it but they were not offended. They asked about our scene and we said we knew we had no chance in Hell of moving on, but this sparked their curiosity. Why? Was it bad? This one girl, I recognized from going on to the Finals last year. Very thin and tall, with short cropped hair, played the Devil in her second scene. She asked what our scene was.

"The Real Deal" by Ethan Renard, I explained. She'd never heard of him. I said that's because he's me. This piqued their interest.

"What's it about?"'

"Um. Facebook." Their curiosity peaked. So they asked us to show them.

Whitesnake and I had a brief moment of deliberation without words and decided to go for it.

TC
Hello, my name is Travis Curran, this is my partner, Whitesnake, and today we'll be doing a scene from The Real Deal, by Ethan Renard.

WS
So how you holding up, man?

TC
Oh, I'm not holding on to anything anymore, I'm free falling in a void of worry and confusion.

BILL
Come on, it's not that bad.

TOM (starts pacing)
Not bad? How is this not bad? It certainly isn't good, and if it's not good, what else could it be?

BILL
It's not the end of the world. You're just being nervous.

TOM
Pssh, if I am one thing and one thing only it is totally not nervous.

BILL
You're nervous.

TOM
I'm not nervous.

BILL
You're pacing.

TOM (stops)
I'm not pacing.

BILL
...well, you were.

TOM
Well, I'm not anymore! (BILL gives him a look)
Allright, I'm nervous. But with good reason, right? If she were pulling this shit with you, you'd be pretty nervous too, right?

BILL
Absolutely. It could happen to anybody. It happens to everyone at one point or another.

TOM
But it happened to me this time. Why does this shit always have to happen to me??

BILL
Dude, get that shit out of here. You've just got to man up and face it. She changed your Facebook status to Complicated.

TOM
What does that even mean? What's so complicated about it? She didn't ask me if she could change it, I don't think it's Complicated, but here she goes, announcing to the whole Internet, Hey Everybody! We're having relationship problems! Problems I don't even know about!

BILL
Chicks are like that man, you don't know there's a problem until it's too late.

TOM
There's nothing I can do about it. It's all over the Feed. People have already started asking me what's wrong and I don't know what to tell them.

BILL
What I think the problem here is a lack of communication. When's the last time you talked to her?

TOM
Like, two weeks ago.

BILL
Have you messaged her on Facebook?

TOM
Only once, with no response.

BILL
Hmm. Posted anything on her Wall?

TOM
Nope.

BILL
Poked her?

TOM
A long time ago, she never poked back.

BILL
Emailed her?

TOM
She never checks it.

BILL
AIM?

TOM
Nope.

BILL
Livejournal.

TOM
Nope.

BILL
MySpace?

TOM
Oh, hell no.

Long Pause.

BILL
Have you tried calling her?

TOM
Ehh...no. I'm...not so good...with phones.

BILL (scolding)
Dude.

TOM
What?

BILL
Dude.

TOM
What?

BILL
Dude.

TOM
What?

BILL
Just fucking call her.

TOM
No.

BILL
Hey man, listen. Chicks love getting called. They expect to be called. They expect to be called so much that when you don't call them, they will not call you until you call them, and That's probably why she's upset right now.

TOM
You think?

BILL
I know.

TOM
Maybe I'll just text her.

BILL
Tom! No.


Thank you.

It was pretty funny, they liked it. They asked if we wanted to play some beer pong they'd set up with the motel table and we accepted, but we never did. They invited us back down tomorrow night, we said sure thing.

The Johnnie Walker is finished, as well as the Wild Turkey. Their souls, the vapor of these spirits, slowly drift up, up and away from the not-so-cold stairwell, fading into the thick Leominster, Massachusetts air. An offering to our patron.