Hoodwinked! [story, long]

[tagutcow]

     And the eyes of them both were opened.      And they knew that they were naked, and sewed fig leaves together for aprons.      And they heard the voice of God walking in the garden, and Adam and Eve hid themselves amongst the trees from His presence.      And God called unto Adam, and said to him, "Where art thou?"      And Adam said, "I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself."      And God said, "Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?"      And Adam said, "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat."      And the God said unto the woman, "What is this that thou hast done?"      And the woman said, "Don't look at me, if I had *my* say we would have shopped at Nutley's Dry Goods Store instead, and wouldn't be wearing these stinking aprons!"      The audience that had gathered in the town square roared with laughter.      His voice muffled through a fake white beard, God pointed at Adam and Eve and declaimed, "I command thee to shop at Nutley's Dry Goods Store for all your apparel needs, for all the days of thy life!"      The audience burst into applause, and the actors gathered in the center of their impromptu stage and took their bow. Thomas Nutley joined them and called out to the crowd, "Thank you for watching our presentation, and please remember to shop at Nutley's! This week we have backhoes and bolts of burlap on sale for half off!"      In a moment's time the applause had tapered off to scattered handclaps, and the crowd dispersed back to the cobblestone streets and alleys whence they gathered. After the pleasant diversion, it was back to business as usual on this most ordinary of Tuesday afternoons.      "Thank you, Katie, you did an excellent job," Tom Nutley said as he slipped three nickels into her hand.      "You're welcome very much, sir!" she chimed, dropping the nickels in her shirt pocket.      On any other day, Thomas would have been the same small, defeated man- not even a man, really, so much as a collection of nervous habits stitched uneasily together- but the success of this advertisement afforded him a welcome reprieve from his usual self, and he now spoke with uncharacteristic confidence.      Old Man Percy had folded his white robe into a neat square, and handed it to Tom. "Thank you very much as well," Tom said, tucking the robe under his arm, "obviously we couldn't have done it without you."      "Glad to help out an old friend," Percy said.      With his free hand, Tom reached into his pocket, but found only pocket lint and a spare button.      "I'm sorry, Percy, I seem to be running a little short today."      "That's alright, Tom," Percy said, "if you owe me any money, you can take it off my tab at the store."      "Capital idea, old friend!" Tom responded, "I'll just take it off your tab!"      "Have a good day, Tom," Percy said as he took cane in hand.      "And good day to you! God bless you both!"      "God bless you too, Mr. Nutley!" Katie said as she went skipping off, Percy following slowly after her.      From the left of his peripheral vision, Tom saw Bill Hanish approaching him, and turned to face him.      "Oh, and thanks to you too, Bill, for doing this on such short notice. When I heard that the man who was to play Adam had fallen ill, I got very worried. You can imagine my relief when I heard a traveling theatre company was passing through town!"      "It is no problem, Tom. Actors such as myself perform on short notice all the time."      "Unfortunately, I won't be able to pay you right now, but if you'll wait right here..."      "That's alright, our company will be packing our wagon outside the inn tomorrow morning. You can pay me then."      "Thank you for being so accommodating, Bill."      Tom paused, scanned his surroundings, and in a slightly hushed voice continued, "Something's been bothering me, though. Do you mind if I ask you something in confidence?"      "Not at all. What's on your mind?"      "Well, do you think that what I've done here is... offensive?"      "What do you mean?"      "I mean taking a Bible story, playing it for laughs, and using it to advertise my store. Do you think that's offensive?"      "Well nobody in the crowd appeared to be offended."      "But do you think it was offensive... to God?"      With a practiced nonchalance, Bill responded, "Don't ask me, Tom, I don't believe any of that nonsense."      "What ever do you mean?"      "What I mean, Tom, is that I don't believe in God, and I don't believe what is written in the Bible."      "Wha... wha...?" Tom was gobsmacked.      "The Bible is a bunch of silly fables, and there is no truth in it at all. Why should you worry about upsetting some fairy-tale God that doesn't exist?"      "How... how can you believe God doesn't exist?" Tom stammered, still trying to regain his bearings.      "I only believe what can be proven scientifically. I can believe in Adam and Eve as much as I believe in Hansel and Gretel."      "But... but what about Pastor Fred?" Tom said, pointing to the other end of the town square, where the town pastor was kneeling down, speaking with a small child. "Are you telling me that what he says isn't true?"      "Do you see the pastor wanting for anything? He preaches giving up worldly things, and look-- he's walking around dressed like one of those big shots from Custer City! He's not buying his clothes from Nutley's Dry Goods, I'll tell you that much, but where do you think your tithings are going?"      "Not Pastor Fred!" Tom cried disconsolately.      "Pastor Fred is in the business of selling you false hope. He knows that the second he stops dangling the promise of heaven in front of you, all that money's going to dry up."      "But... but..."      "Tom, you've been hoodwinked."      Tom continued to attempt to speak, but words continued to fail him.      "Tell you what, Thomas. I'm going to be part of a play at the Janus Theatre tonight at seven o'clock. The play will explain all of this. I strongly advise that you be in attendance."                                    *          *          *      Walking down Main Street towards the theatre, Thomas became aware of a frantic shouting in the streets.      "Don't go in there!" an old woman shrieked at passers-by, "If you care a whit about the fate of your soul, you won't listen to what those wicked men are saying!"      As he drew nearer, the crone accosted him, grabbing him by the shirt.      "Do you know what they're doing in there, sir?" she said.      "No, what are they doing?"      "There are wicked men in there who commit blasphemies! Agents of Satan, they are! If you know what's good for your soul, you won't step foot in that theatre."      "I'm sorry, ma'am, I promised a friend I would attend his show. He seems friendly enough-- not at all like an agent of Satan! I'm sure if you see it for yourself, you won't think it to be so bad."      Sensing that his mind was set on seeing the show, and that any attempt at dissuasion would be in vain, the old woman narrowed her eyes and growled, "You have been warned."      Shaken, but undeterred, Thomas joined the line of people slowly filing their way into the theatre. The old woman moved on, continuing to rave at people walking past the theatre.      "Enter! Enter! To see the man of tomorrow!", a man at the door with a kindly mien and straw boating hat called to the very same passers-by, seemingly oblivious to the old woman, "Listen as he tells us of his future paradise of freethought!"      As Thomas neared the front of the line, he took care to introduce himself.      "Hello, sir..."      "Bo Hailey is the name," the kindly man said, tipping his hat with one hand and shaking Tom's hand with the other in one seamless gesture, flashing his zygomatic smile.      "I mean, hello Mr. Hailey. My name is Thomas Nutley. I was told to come here by one of your actors, a man named Bill Hanish."      "A fine man and fine actor Bill Hanish is! Why, Bill is playing none other than the man of tomorrow himself!"      "Yes, well... I was a little concerned with some of the things he told me, and when that lady over there tried to tell me there were agents of Satan here, I tried to assure her..."      "Listen, Thomas. There are always going to be such lowly people who, when confronted with the shining palaces of the new, shield their eyes, and cower back to their wretched hovels of ignorance. Do you want to be one of those people, Thomas?"      "I suppose not, sir."      "Well then step inside and take your seat. You're holding up the line!"      A sudden sense of embarrassment seized Thomas, shifting his frame of mind so drastically and abruptly as to send his body careening off-balance through the theatre entrance, where he nearly crashed into the young man handing out programs.      "Here's your program sir. Please enjoy the show," the boy said.      Thomas took the program in hand, regained his bearings, and glanced around the theatre. Obviously, whoever was responsible for promoting the event did a good job, as the theatre was filled almost to capacity. The crowd was buzzing with curiosity, as nobody knew quite what to expect.      Thomas took his seat near the back, and looked down at the theatre program that had been handed to him. +------------------------------------------------------------+ |                                                            | |                                                            | |                       JANUS THEATRE                        | |                          Main St.                          | |                                                            | |   CHAUNCEY HELMHOLME .................. GENERAL DIRECTOR   | |                                                            | |                       ONE DAY ONLY!                        | |                     Tuesday, April 14                      | |                                                            | |                    BO HAILEY Presents:                     | |                                                            | |                    THE MAN OF TOMORROW                     | |                                                            | |   Wherein REASON, RATIONALITY, ENLIGHTENMENT and SCIENCE   | |              Conquer BIGOTRY and SUPERSTITION!             | |                                                            | | Characters:                                              | |                                                            | |   BO HAILEY .................................. PRESENTER   | |   WILLIAM HANISH ................... THE MAN OF TOMORROW   | |   HUBERT BEESON ................... THE MAN OF YESTERDAY   | |                                                            | |                                                            | +------------------------------------------------------------+      After a few minutes, every seat was filled, and the doors in the back of the theatre were closed. The crowd hushed, and then proceeded to respond with courteous applause as Bo Hailey was seen walking towards center stage.      "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he called forth with bellowing voice, "My name is Bo Hailey, and I want to thank each and every one of you for taking time out of your day to see our presentation. We're sure that by the end of our show, you'll agree that it was time well spent, and likely the most important show you'll ever see. For what you are about to see is not any light entertainment! Nay, we will be taking a serious glimpse into the future world every person in this theatre will inhabit, and the world our children will inherit-- the world of tomorrow. It will be a world far different from the one we know today, and a new world calls for a new man,-- a man of tomorrow. But let us first take a look at the man of yesterday..."      Bo walked to the side of the stage as the curtain drew back to reveal a man kneeling on the ground. The man's hands were joined in prayer, and above him dangled a crate suspended by a rope hanging from above the proscenium.      "Please Mr. God," the man mumbled, "please protect me from this crate that is about to crash over my head. I promise to be good if you spare me this horrible fate."      The audience laughed tentatively.      A man entered heroically from stage left. "Cease your futile prayers!" he proclaimed, "your imaginary God will not protect you from this danger!"      "Who are you?" the kneeling man asked.      "I am the man of tomorrow, and I have come to rescue you from ignorance and superstition!"      The man of tomorrow took the man of yesterday's hand and led him aside a few paces, at which point the crate- released by an unseen stagehand- fell to the stage floor with a calamitous crash, its sides collapsing in outward directions.      "Wow, thank you, man of tomorrow, you saved my life!"      "I helped you only with the aid of reason and rationality. For in the world of tomorrow, your belief in God will be seen to be a silly superstition, and we shall believe only in what accords to the rigors of the scientific method."      "Golly, I surely don't want the people of tomorrow thinking I'm silly! Please tell me more about this 'scientific method'!"      "See, science is a way of explaining the world by making theories about observations and testing them. We don't just believe any old thing because we read it in some musty old book of fables!" With this, the actor threw a knowing wink out at the audience.      "And so science tell us that God doesn't exist?"      "Not quite. The fact that science can't prove something like God *doesn't* exist is the reason it doesn't deal with Him in the first place. Science only deals with observable facts, and theories that can be falsified, thus God is excluded from the outset. Science will help us build our world of tomorrow, and in return we conform our thinking to science. See, man of yesterday, your problem is that your thinking is *dogmatic*."      "But my dog Copperhead is smart! If I make like I'm throwing a stick but I keep it tucked in my palm..."      The audience laughed again, this time less tentatively.      "No, no," the man of tomorrow said, laughing reassuringly, "your thinking is *dogmatic*. That means you only believe what you're told by the clergy and by ancient books, and your mind is closed to new ideas. Any belief system that excludes any new ideas is called dogmatic. The man of tomorrow eschews such dogmas, and thus I am a freethinker!"      "A freethinker!?! Wow! I want to be one of those! But if there's no God, who decides who goes to heaven and hell?"      "Oh, man of yesterday, how your naivety tickles me!" the man of tomorrow laughed, "There is no heaven and hell, nor do we have souls that would go there. There is nothing in the Universe that is not liquid, solid or gas, and all that happens when we die is that our bodies get returned to soil."      "But if there's no heaven or hell, what's to prevent people from lying and cheating and stealing?"      "Rest assured, man of yesterday, all your concerns will be addressed in... THE FUTURE!"      With this cue, stage hands rolled a gigantic facade of machinery onto the stage behind the actors-- a dazzling new kinetic backdrop of rotating gears, derricks fiendishly churning and exhaust pipes intermittently belching smoke.      The audience gasped.      "Gee whiz!" The man of yesterday exclaimed, swiveling around with slack-jawed amazement.      "Yes, this is the world that science and technology will build for us. But our science will look inwards even as it looks outwards, and we will become the objects of our own study. Already, we are beginning to understand how to fix a person's behavior the way an engineer fixes a machine, and to create a perfectly moral man the way a chemist creates a chemical reaction. Thanks to science and technology, society will be a smoothly and perfectly running machine within our own lifetimes!"      "Gee, man of tomorrow that's a future I want to be part of!"      "You see, the man of yesterday would sit around and wait for his imaginary God to deliver him to heaven. The man of tomorrow, however, will gain the tools needed to create heaven on Earth, and will be the author of his own destiny!"      "I want to be the author of my own destiny!"      "Well if you believe as I do, you too can be a man of tomorrow! But the first step is to disavow yourself of your belief in God."      "God!?! What God?"      "Ha-ha... That's the attitude!"      With this, the man of yesterday stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the man of tomorrow, and together they took a step forward, proudly looking onwards, upwards, as the curtain drew closed on them both. As the audience applauded, Bo Hailey walked back to the center of the stage.      "I hope you enjoyed our trip to the world of tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you too will put aside those ancient superstitions and join us here, just as our friend did. I bid you good night, and wish for you a tomorrow filled with enlightenment, reason and science."      The audience applauded warmly once again.      "Do you hear that?" a single overly enthused voice called out, "We're all going to be *scientists*!"      After a moment's consideration spent looking contentedly out at the audience, Bo decided to correct the obviously confused man.      "Well... no. You're going to be woodwrights and farmers and cobblers just like you are now, the only difference is that you're going to *believe* in science."      "But how are we going to know what to believe in if we can't see the science for ourselves?" a woman in the front row asked.      "You will trust people who are qualified to make scientific findings. Science is much too important to be left to less capable hands."      At this point, the audience broke into a low rumble of confusion.      "Science is great!" a man from the audience shouted out, obviously trying to ingratiate himself to Mr. Hailey, "My cousin Caleb showed me one them newfangled telephone machines. I was able to hear a man in Custer City talk like he war standin' right next to me!"      "Well... yes," Bo said, again disconcerted by this subtle yet profound misapprehension of what he was trying to say. "To put a somewhat finer point on it, when I say you're going to 'believe in science', what I mean is that you're going to believe in nothing *but* science."      Another man, with thumbs tucked under his suspender straps, called out, "But I thought that tuhmarree man feller said that any belief system that excludes all other..."      "I really think many of you are missing the forest for the trees here," Bo interrupted, his smile now flickering like a light bulb loose in its socket. "It is not crucial that you believe any one particular finding of science, or any other, or that you even understand them, as many of them you assuredly would not. What *is* of capital importance is that you understand that the method of the natural sciences is the only reliable source of human knowledge."      "So did science tell us that science is the only reliable source of all knowledge?" yet another man asked.      "No! What? Science doesn't concern itself with such matters!"      "Well you said science is the only reliable source of knowledge, so iff'n we know that, it must be because..."      At this point, the doors in the back of the theatre were thrown open violently, and the old crone from the street proceeded to rush down the aisle.      "Agents of Satan! Agents of Satan! You're all been corrupted!" she shrieked, her accusatory finger sweeping around her in all directions, failing to find any one individual less undeserving of rebuke than any other. The audience's low rumble of confusion now grew to a bedlam.      "Here we have a perfect example of a woman trapped in her backwards superstitious thinking," Bo declared, projecting his voice over the audience. "The choice is yours, ladies and gentlemen; do you want to continue to believe in superstitions as she does?"      The audience talked furiously amongst themselves, as the old woman continued to growl at the people in the aisles. The commotion was pierced by a single voice.      "No!" a man cried out, standing up.      "I'm sorry, I couldn't seem to make out your response." Bo Hailey shouted, "I'll repeat my question; do you want to continue to live in this old woman's backwards world of superstition?"      Emboldened by the standing man, a larger contingent of audience members stood up as well and cried out "No!"      "Ah! Very good! I could hear you that time, but I'm afraid this woman might be a bit hard of hearing. Tell her, do you want to continue to live in her backwards world of superstition?"      "No!" the audience now cried out in near-unison, with practically everyone rising to their feet.      "Well then we shall no longer be bound by our belief in God, but shall henceforth be governed only by our belief in reason, science, and our trust in the inherent goodness and rationality of man."      "Has that been proven by science too?" a lone voice asked amidst the uproar.      "It's not important!" Bo shouted out, "Out with the old woman and her old ways of thinking!"      The people in the theatre formed a mob, took the horrified, struggling old woman up on their shoulders, carried her outside and tossed her into the street.      Thomas Nutley stormed back home that night with a fire in him.      He slammed the door behind him emphatically, and shouted into the hallway of the house, "From this day forward, this is a godless household!"      "Thomas," his wife said, confused, as she shuffled into the front hall, "what ever are you talking about?"      "In the name of rationales, reasonability, science, lightning and many other words, I hereby renounce God!"      "Dear, you're not thinking straight!" she pleaded with him as their son joined her side.      "I've never thought straighter in my life! There will be no more mentions of God in this household, no churchgoing, no prayers, no thanksgivings!"      His gaze locked onto the cross hanging on the wall in the living room. He walked towards it with purpose.      "What are you doing, paw?" his son asked.      "I'm doing you a favor."      "But why, Tom?" his wife asked, holding her son close.      "Because science..." he said with labored breath as he unmounted the crucifix from the wall, "...is *true*!"      Taking the cross in his hands, he threw it to the ground, where it shattered.                                    *          *          *      Thomas Nutley awoke from strange, sickly dreams to a world that had since gone blank. He sat upright in bed and looked across to his wife, sleeping. Quietly he got out of bed and walked towards the window.      The joyous clatter of songbirds was audible though the window pane whose dirtied surface caught the whimsical shadows of oak leaves cast by the light of the sun rising upon this most gorgeous of mornings to which anyone would delight to awake.      Anyone except for Tom, that is, for today Tom's eyes looked out upon a world stripped naked of belonging.      A shaft of pale light cut though the room, catching dust particles drifting lazy in the air, sheared off by flesh, setting a flank aglow in pink-orange. Tom looked down at the sad, bloated form beneath him, now cast in unforgiving light. "That is me," he thought-- a thought he turned over, and over again, but could never get to sit quite right. Never before had he believed that he was nothing beyond this flesh, and yet never before had this flesh seemed quite so alien.      He looked back at his wife, who was sleeping still. Quietly, he threw on his clothes and slipped outside.      People milled about the streets, talking amongst themselves in these early hours, but Tom walked silently past them. Occasionally his ears picked up fragments of conversation, mostly concerning the previous night's show.      As he passed the town square, Tom saw Pastor Fred, who had also attended the previous night's performance. Once again, Fred was bent on his knee, this time reciting happy formulations about reason and science to a child who appeared not so sanguine about the new gospel.      Thomas arrived at the inn, and saw Bo Hailey loading the wagon. Standing by the side were the actors-- Bill Hanish, Hubert Beeson, and the old cronish woman.      The corners of the old woman's lips curled in a grin of recognition.      "Tom, good to see you this fine morning," Bill called to him, "how are you doing?"      "Alright, I suppose," Tom said sheepishly, "I came here to give you your payment, as I said I would."      "I know you're a man of your word," Bill said as Tom dropped the three nickels into his palm. "Hey, Bo, this is my friend Thomas Nutley, he attended last night's performance!"      "Ah yes, I have already had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Nutley," Bo said, giving Tom a firm handshake, "what did you think of our show?"      "It was a real eye-opener," Tom said, despondently nudging a discarded soda bottle on the ground with his foot.      "Yes, I think we opened many people's eyes last..."- it took Bo a moment to read the signs- "... night." He paused, "Is something... wrong?"      "No, nothing's wrong."      "Are you sure?"      Tom shrugged, stammered, and rolled the soda bottle around some more. Then- inexplicably- just as Bo was about to resume speaking, something within Thomas Nutley broke, and the words tumbled out over each other.      "I wasn't even sure what I believed, but now I have given it up!"      "But Thomas, such beliefs are unworthy of you!" Hubert reassured him.      "Or maybe I was unworthy of my beliefs. In any case, the deed is done, and I have banished my creator from my heart. In my soul there is nothing but vapor, and I shall meet only death beyond the grave. I have forfeited the title of my own belonging... for what?"      "For what!?!" Bo rested the box he was attempting to load onto the wagon back on the ground; there was an urgent matter here that needed attending.      He walked up to Tom and proceeded to push Tom's chin sharply upwards with his knuckle. Tom's glance dropped immediately as to avoid eye contact.      "I am looking at someone right now, but I don't think this person knows who he really is," Bo said. "Thomas, do you know who you are?"      Tom attempted to resume rolling the bottle with his foot, but Bo kicked it away from him forcefully.      With a broad smile, looking him squarely in the face, Bo said, "Tom... you are the man of tomorrow!"      Tom said nothing, squirming in discomfort.      "Now... who are you?" Bo asked him.      An uneasy moment- a skittish contact of eyes, a glint of a forced smile- passed before Tom managed to force the words "... man of tomorrow?" half-voiced, half-aspirated, in a voice half-broken.      "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Who are you again?" Bo said, nudging Tom's chin up further still. Broad smile.      "I am... I am the man of tomorrow!" Tom said, summoning as much enthusiasm as he thought necessary for the release of his chin. He estimated correctly, to his great relief.      Bo took a step back with hands outstretched and palms facing outward as if it were no longer this moment before him, but a photograph of this moment framed and mounted.      "You are the man of tomorrow!" he said dreamily, backing away, arms still outstretched.      The moment didn't last forever-- none do, buckling soon enough under the weight of workaday concerns. In a moment's time, Bo's back was turned to Tom, and he had resumed stacking the suitcases in the wagon and shouting instructions to the wagon driver. After all, their company had to be in Shawnee by noon and there was no time to waste!      Ignored once more, the man of tomorrow buried his hands into his pants pockets and stooped his shoulders as a stiff wind picked up and scattered him to the streets.                                                        Robert Caponi 08|31|09

 

[bach]

and i should read this because...?

 

[oneeightyseven]

 

[Big Pun]

Conne, I think it's time you go sharpen up on your pool skills, or whatever the hell you do. EDIT: oh **** I meant tagut

See what you've become!!!???

 

[kwilkinson]

tl;dr. Just wanted to add that the movie Hoodwinked! is actually pretty good.

 

[oneeightyseven]

Originally Posted by kwilkinson

tl;dr. Just wanted to add that the movie Hoodwinked! is actually pretty good.

are you like 14? I swear that's a little kid animation movie. Is this where you take your dates kwilk????????

 

[kwilkinson]

Originally Posted by oneeightyseven

are you like 14? I swear that's a little kid animation movie. Is this where you take your dates kwilk????????

My only dates for the last 4 years have been with the same person. At this point, I don't have to pretend to be interested in **** I don't care about so I look cool. I can just be myself-- A hoodwinked lovin fggt.

 

[tagutcow]

Originally Posted by bach

and i should read this because...?

Read!?! I expect a full X-bar analysis!

 

[oneeightyseven]

Originally Posted by kwilkinson

My only dates for the last 4 years have been with the same person. At this point, I don't have to pretend to be interested in **** I don't care about so I look cool. I can just be myself-- A hoodwinked lovin fggt.

you know what, instead of going on and making fun of you, I will respect that.

 

[tagutcow]

Originally Posted by Big Punisher

Conne, I think it's time you go sharpen up on your pool skills, or whatever the hell you do.

EDIT: oh **** I meant tagut

See what you've become!!!???

You guys should take up a collection to buy me a hooker so no more overwrought fiction gets loosed on SF.



Oh yeah...


You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck You People Suck [etc.]

 

[MetroStyles]

Originally Posted by kwilkinson

My only dates for the last 4 years have been with the same person. At this point, I don't have to pretend to be interested in **** I don't care about so I look cool. I can just be myself-- A hoodwinked lovin fggt.

Sigged.