Death at a Séance

Last week, I posted the first part of my Addams Family Mystery. This week, I'll continue the story...

Scene 3 opens with Fester attempting to comfort Wednesday over the loss of her boyfriend, Eddie Munster. Fester confides that he, too, has experienced true love, but it didn't work out, as she "loved someone else."

Wednesday has become a little loopy on the pills prescribed by Dr. Crane. ("The blue ones are for when I'm sad, the yellow ones for when I'm anxious, and… I forget what these little pink ones are for, but they're pretty, aren't they?") Concerned that Wednesday may accidentally overdose, Marilyn confiscates her pills.

Fester tells the family that, for Wednesday's sake, they should be trying to help Marilyn solve the mystery. Grandmama suggests the best way to help might be to contact Eddie through a séance. It seems that Fester is a professional medium, although his results can be unpredictable. (At the family's last séance, he accidentally channeled Jack the Ripper, and "it took days to clean up the mess.")

Dessert is served during the scene break. If it's your birthday or anniversary, the family will sing you their special birthday/anniversary song. Please sing along if you know it, and don't forget to snap your fingers—

Da-da-da-dum.
Da-da-da-dum.
Da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum.

A happy, happy birthday (anniversary).
A happy, happy birthday (anniversary).
A happy, happy birthday (anniversary).
From the Addams Family.

Da-da-da-dum.
Da-da-da-dum.
Da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum.

Also at this time, audience members are encouraged to bribe their favorite character for an additional clue using play money. The bribe clues are as follows:

GOMEZ:  Our family credo is: "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us."
MORTICIA:  An Addams marry a Munster—never!
WEDNESDAY:  Wednesday's inner child is full of woe.
FESTER:  I don't know anything about genetics, but Eddie seemed like a nice kid.
GRANDMAMA:  I can no longer protect my son!
MARILYN:  Doesn't Fester have the most soulful eyes you've ever seen?

At the beginning of the séance scene, the actors take their seats at a small table for six. Because the seating arrangement is somewhat important to the plot, here's a diagram:

In most of our mysteries, the victim "dies" in front of the audience (preferably next to an exit, to make it easier to remove the body), but the shots come from offstage, with all of the suspects out of the room. This time, I wanted the murder to take place with all of the suspects in the room. Of course, the only way to achieve this was to have the scene take place in the dark...

FESTER:  Quiet everyone! Would someone dim the lights, please?

MARILYN:  Should we hold hands?

FESTER:  That won't be necessary. Just place your hands lightly on top of the table. (Fester begins to make an eerie moaning sound, then says, in a memorable voice…) Eenie Meenie Chili Beanie! The spirits are about to speak!

MARILYN:  What's happening?

GRANDMAMA:  Fester is getting in touch with his spirit guide.

MARILYN:  His spirit guide is Bullwinkle?

MORTICIA:  Don't be silly! Bullwinkle was a cartoon character. Fester's spirit guide is Bill Scott.

MARILYN:  Who?

GOMEZ:  Bill Scott. The voice of Bullwinkle.

MARILYN:  I see.

MORTICIA:  But he prefers to be addressed as Bullwinkle.

MARILYN:  Oh.

GOMEZ:  It was his greatest role.

MARILYN:  Of course.

MORTICIA:  Bullwinkle? Can you hear me, Bullwinkle?

FESTER:  Yes, I hear you.

MORTICIA:  How are you, Darling?

FESTER:  Dead.

MORTICIA:  Of course you are, dear. But your spirit will always live on.

GOMEZ:  We always look forward to your appearance in the Thanksgiving Day Parade, old boy.

FESTER:  Thank you.

MORTICIA:  Bullwinkle, darling, we're looking for a recent arrival…

GOMEZ:  He should have come in today. The name's Eddie…

FESTER:  Hold on… Is there an Eddie here?… Eddie?… (his voice changes) That's a lovely dress you're wearing, Mrs. Cleaver.

MORTICIA:  Not Eddie Haskell! Eddie Munster!

FESTER:  (Bullwinkle again) Oh. Hold on a minute… (different voice) Hello?

WEDNESDAY:  Eddie? Is that you?

FESTER:  Hi, Wednesday.

WEDNESDAY:  What's it like, Eddie?

FESTER:  I see dead people.

GOMEZ:  You are dead people.

WEDNESDAY:  I miss you, sweetiepateetie.

FESTER:  I miss you, too, cutiepatootie.

MORTICIA:  Ugh! I think I'm going to be sick.

GOMEZ:  This is worse than Jack the Ripper.

MARILYN:  Eddie, do you know who this is?

FESTER:  Sure! Hi, Marilyn!

MARILYN:  Eddie, what's my middle name?

FESTER:  Grizelda.

ALL:  Grizelda?

MARILYN:  It's true. It must really be Eddie. Eddie, are you still there?

FESTER:  Yes.

MARILYN:  Do you remember being shot?

FESTER:  I'd prefer to forget it, but yes, I remember.

MARILYN:  Did you see who shot you?

FESTER:  Yes.

MARILYN:  Who was it?

FESTER:  It was…

(Gomez sneezes loudly.)

FESTER:  Gezundheit.

(A shot is fired; Wednesday screams.)

MARILYN:  Fester! Lights! Somebody turn on the lights!

(The lights come up, revealing Fester slumped over the table. Marilyn is standing over him, checking for a pulse. Wednesday's hands are covering her mouth. Gomez holds a napkin to his face. Morticia is clutching Gomez's arm. Grandmama's hands are on the table, and she is halfway out of her chair.)

MARILYN:  Nobody move!

GRANDMAMA:  Fester! Is he…dead?

MARILYN:  I'm afraid so, Mrs. Addams. (She removes something from the back of the chair.) A silver bullet! (She quickly scans the table, then gets down on her hands and knees and looks beneath it. When she gets to her feet, she is holding a gun wrapped in a napkin. She unwraps it, examines it and sniffs the barrel.) The murder weapon—no doubt the same gun used to kill Eddie Munster. And one of you four is the killer!

(Gomez, Morticia and Grandmama begin protesting. Wednesday repeats "poor Uncle Fester, poor Uncle Fester…" Marilyn sits Fester up and covers him with the tablecloth. Wednesday becomes occupied with the cloth covering Fester. The audience can't see what she is doing.)

MARILYN:  Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? I regret to announce that Fester Addams is dead. Like my cousin Eddie, he was shot with a silver bullet from a 22-caliber handgun—obviously by someone sitting at this table. I will now conduct my interrogation, and, when I have finished with each suspect, you will have an opportunity to ask your own questions. First, Gomez Addams.

GOMEZ:  At your service.

MARILYN:  Did you object to Wednesday's relationship with Eddie?

GOMEZ:  Naturally.

MARILYN:  Why?

GOMEZ:  Because Mama and Morticia told me to.

MARILYN:  Let's talk about the séance. Your sneeze seemed very well-timed.

GOMEZ:  What do you mean?

MARILYN:  It created the perfect distraction for the killer. Or perhaps you faked the sneeze and shot Fester yourself?

GOMEZ:  I most certainly did not!

MARILYN:  You just coincidentally had to sneeze at that particular moment?

GOMEZ:  Yes. Something tickled my nose.

MARILYN:  I see. Well, it's an impossible shot, anyway, I suppose.

GOMEZ:  What do you mean?

MARILYN:  To fire under the table like that—without even aiming—and put the bullet straight through Fester's heart? Come on! Nobody could do that except by pure luck.

GOMEZ:  On the contrary. I could make that shot ten times in a row, without deviating a millimeter from the target.

MORTICIA:  Gomez!

GOMEZ:  Well, I could. It's simply a matter of feeling the relative positions of your weapon and the target. The same theory applies to blindfolded knife-throwing, a skill at which I also excel.

MARILYN:  What about Morticia? Could she do it?

GOMEZ:  She's a better shot than I am.

MORTICIA:  Gomez!

GOMEZ:  Now don't be modest, Querida.

MARILYN:  Wednesday?

GOMEZ:  Not quite as accurate, but I'll wager she could hit it four times out of five.

MORTICIA:  GOMEZ!

GOMEZ:  All right, maybe nine times out of ten.

MARILYN:  And what about your mother?

GOMEZ:  Are you kidding? Mama could outshoot anybody in the room.

GRANDMAMA:  Gomez, will you shut up!

GOMEZ:  I was just trying to be helpful.

GRANDMAMA:  Well don't!

MARILYN:  Are there any other questions for Gomez? (She fields questions from audience.) Thank you, Mr. Addams. Morticia Addams?

MORTICIA:  Yes?

MARILYN:  You objected to Wednesday's relationship with my cousin, didn't you?

MORTICIA:  I certainly did.

MARILYN:  On what grounds?

MORTICIA:  On every possible grounds.

MARILYN:  Could you be a bit more specific?

MORTICIA:  Well, let's just say he wasn't really Addams material—no offense.

MARILYN:  None taken. I consider it a compliment.

MORTICIA:  What do you mean by that?

MARILYN:  Oh, nothing. It's just that I'd rather be a poor, working-class stiff than a spoiled, idle snob with a stick up my ass, that's all—no offense.

MORTICIA:  (through gritted teeth) None taken.

MARILYN:  Would you describe what happened during the séance, just before Fester was killed?

MORTICIA:  Gomez sneezed. I handed him a napkin.

MARILYN:  Did you hear anything else before the shot was fired?

MORTICIA:  No.

MARILYN:  Thank you. Are there any other questions for Morticia? (Marilyn fields questions from the audience.) Thank you, Morticia. Mrs. Addams—what is your first name, by the way?

GRANDMAMA:  Babette.

MARILYN:  Babette? Do you mind if I call you Grandmama?

GRANDMAMA:  Whatever floats your boat, Blondie.

MARILYN:  Did you object to Wednesday's relationship with Eddie?

GRANDMAMA:  Of course I did.

MARILYN:  Why?

GRANDMAMA:  He was a werewolf. Werewolves are bad news.

MARILYN:  You sound as though you speak from personal experience.

GRANDMAMA:  I do.

MARILYN:  What sort of experience?

GRANDMAMA:  Personal.

MARILYN:  Would you tell us what you heard before Fester was shot.

GRANDMAMA:  I heard Gomez sneeze, and I heard a shot.

MARILYN:  Anything else?

GRANDMAMA:  No.

MARILYN:  Thank you. Any other questions for Grandmama? (She fields questions from the audience.) Wednesday Addams?

(No response. Wednesday is in her own world.)

MARILYN: Wednesday? What are you doing?

(Wednesday moves the cloth covering Fester, revealing a smiley face she has drawn on it over Fester's face.)

MARILYN:  Wednesday, could you answer a few questions for me?

WEDNESDAY: Sure, Marilyn. How are you Marilyn?

MARILYN:  I'm fine, Wednesday.

WEDNESDAY:  Are you sure? I know how you felt about Uncle Fester. You shouldn't keep your feelings inside, you know. Feelings are like butterflies, (beginning to sing) and butterflies are free to fly, fly away, high away…

MARILYN:  Honestly, Wednesday, I'm okay.

WEDNESDAY:  How about a pill?

MARILYN:  We took your pills away from you, remember?

WEDNESDAY:  (pulling out another pill box) Oh, I still have some herbals from Dr. Wong. (conspiratorially) Don't tell Dr. Crane; he doesn't believe in them.

MARILYN:  Give me the pills, Wednesday.

WEDNESDAY:  Let's see… (she begins handing out pills to guests, in a parody of Ophelia's mad scene in Hamlet) There's ginkgo, that's for remembrance—pray you, love, remember. And there is St. John's Wort, that's for thoughts.

MARILYN:  Give me the pills.

WEDNESDAY:  Oh, all right. (She hands the pills to Marilyn.)

MARILYN:  (patiently, as though talking to a small child) Now, Wednesday, I want you to think back to the séance.

WEDNESDAY:  What séance?

MARILYN:  The séance we just had—when Uncle Fester was killed.

WEDNESDAY:  Oh, yeah. That was so sad.

MARILYN:  Yes, it was. Now, do you remember what happened, just before Fester was shot?

WEDNESDAY:  You were talking to Eddie. Eddie's dead. That's so sad.

MARILYN:  Yes, it is. Then what happened?

WEDNESDAY:  Someone sneezed. I think it was Father.

MARILYN:  Yes. Then what?

WEDNESDAY:  There was a shot.

MARILYN:  Do you remember anything else unusual before the shot?

WEDNESDAY:  No….yes. There was a sound.

MARILYN:  What kind of sound?

WEDNESDAY:  (imitating the sound) FFFT!

MARILYN:  Was this before or after the sneeze?

WEDNESDAY:  Before.

MARILYN:  Are there any other questions for Wednesday? (Marilyn fields questions from the audience.) Thank you Wednesday. You've been very helpful. Ladies and gentlemen, I now know who the killer is. Do you? You have five minutes to fill out your resolution forms. Good luck, and may the best detective win!

Have you figured out who killed Eddie Munster and Fester Addams and the motives for their murders? Next week, I'll present the solution to An Addams Family Mystery!

The Fall of Fester

This time of year, I always feel like shaving my head, donning a long black robe with a fur collar, and sticking a light bulb in my mouth.

My Fester fetish can be traced back to the spring of 2000. Several members of the Gypsy Players were hanging out in the bar at Dakota's Steakhouse in Simi Valley, trying to come up with an idea for a fall mystery dinner theater script. We were having a fairly successful run with The Last Cruise of the S.S. Minnow—a mash-up of Gilligan's Island, The Love Boat, Speed, and Titanic. "How about something with the Munsters or the Addams Family?" the bartender suggested.

An Addams Family Mystery premiered at Dakota's that fall. The show was directed by John Diesel and starred Ron Kewish as Gomez, Judie Kewish as Morticia, Roxanne Diesel as Grandmama, Mikisha Harrison as Wednesday, Tiel Kinsner as Marilyn Munster, and yours truly as Fester. I loved playing Fester, and was happy to reprise the role when the Gypsies revived the show at the Grand Vista Hotel in the fall of 2004, with Gabriel Vega as Gomez, Deborah Parsons as Morticia, Pat Newbert as Grandmama, Mallory Jordan and Kelly Murkey as Wednesday, and Lola McKenna and Marilyn Zaslow as Marilyn. The Gypsies produced the show once more at Paul's Italian Villa in 2007, with Gabriel Vega, Deborah Parsons, Pat Newbert, and I reprising our roles, and Veronica Morrow and Renee Smith as Wednesday and Marilyn.

A year ago, Comedy Tonight Productions revived the show at Yolanda's Mexican Restaurant in Ventura. Gabriel Vega, Renee Smith, and I reprised our roles; Kathryn Dippong Lawson and Veronica Scheyving alternated as Morticia, Heather Byhoffer was Grandmama, and Courtney Licata was Wednesday.

There have been other productions of An Addams Family Mystery all over the country. Unfortunately, for reasons I won't go into here (but which you may be able to deduce if you read last week's post), it may no longer be performed. However, I don't see why I shouldn't be able to post excerpts as "fan fiction." Do you?

Scene 2 ("Werewolf Genetics"), is my favorite scene. It follows, as is frequently the case, Scene 1, which I will first briefly summarize:

Imagine that you are a member of the Addams family. You arrive at a family reunion, to be greeted and seated by Gomez, Morticia, Grandmama, and Fester. Lurch and Thing are away at a funeral (primarily because it's extremely difficult to cast a seven foot cadaverous butler and a disembodied hand). Pugsley, who is studying to be a forensic pathologist, is in the midst of his finals at Harvard medical school. Wednesday is expected at any minute.

When Wednesday arrives, her mood is uncharacteristically cheerful. Much to the horror of her parents, she announces that she has been undergoing analysis with a certain "Dr. Crane," and is finally learning to enjoy life. Oh, and there's one more thing. She is engaged—to her boyfriend, Eddie Munster. The family—particularly Morticia and Grandmama—do not approve of the match. Not only is Eddie Munster "not Addams material," he is a werewolf. "He promised to get help," wails Wednesday. "He's going to check himself into the Lon Chaney center!"

"I don't care if he's made an appointment to be neutered," replies Morticia.

The family's objections become moot when, just before the end of the scene, FBI agent Marilyn Munster arrives to announce that her cousin, Eddie, has been murdered. Members of the Addams family—including, possibly, you—are prime suspects.

During the dinner break, Marilyn is torn between questioning the guests and pursuing Fester, for whom she seems to have developed a strange infatuation. She loses sight of him for a moment and then sees him across the room…

MARILYN:  Fester! (crosses to him) There you are! I was afraid you'd left.

FESTER:  No, I'm still here. How's the investigation going?

MARILYN:  Okay, I guess.

FESTER:  Do you really think someone in our family did it?

MARILYN:  It sure looks that way. I'm sorry.

FESTER:  You don't suspect me, do you?

MARILYN:  Of course not! Why, anyone could see that you're just a big ol' teddy bear who wouldn't hurt a fly! But the rest of your family…(looks pointedly at Morticia).

FESTER:  Oh, they're not so bad, once you get to know them. I'm sorry about Eddie. I didn't know him very well, but he seemed like a good kid. How did he become a werewolf?

MARILYN:  Oh, he was born that way.

MORTICIA:  Don't be ridiculous. There's no such thing as a born werewolf. You can only become a werewolf if you're bitten by a werewolf.

MARILYN:  Well Eddie was never bitten. Aunt Lily always said it was genetic. She said Eddie inherited it from her.

MORTICIA:  Is Lily a werewolf?

MARILYN:  Well, no…

MORTICIA:  Then I'm sorry, but your theory just doesn't make sense.

MARILYN:  Are you calling my aunt a liar?

MORTICIA:  Perhaps she had a reason for not telling you the truth.

MARILYN:  What makes you such an authority on the subject, anyway? Have you ever known a werewolf?

MORTICIA:  Heavens no! Horrible, hairy creatures!

MARILYN:  Like your cousin Itt?

MORTICIA:  Itt is not a werewolf!

MARILYN:  Well, then what is it—a dust mop?

MORTICIA:  Listen, you blonde freak of nature…

FESTER:  Morticia, please!

GOMEZ:  Perhaps you two should settle this outside—with appropriate weapons.

MARILYN:  That won't be necessary, Mr. Addams. (takes out her cell phone and begins to place a call) I have a friend at the bureau who can settle this… (to phone) Mulder? Marilyn Munster. I'm working on a case, and—listen, what do you know about lycanthropy?… Yes, I know… Yes, I know that, too… (beginning to lose patience, she does a "yak-yak" hand gesture) Yes, yes, yes—look, all I want to know is, is it hereditary?… Thanks. (to others) He's talking to his partner—she's a doctor… (back to phone) Scully? Wassup, girlfriend?… Yeah, I know you're a skeptic, but try to keep an open mind, okay?… Well, he claimed to have inherited the condition from his mother, but she's never shown any symptoms… What's that?… congenital?… recessive gene?… Okay… Yes… I think I understand. Thanks, Dana. Later.

MORTICIA:  Well?

MARILYN:  She says the gene could be recessive, which means someone could carry the disease without showing any of the symptoms. A child could inherit the disease, but only if both parents carried the recessive gene.

GOMEZ:  Then your Uncle Herman is a werewolf?

MARILYN:  No—but he doesn't have to be. He just has to carry the gene.

MORTICIA:  Or else…

MARILYN:  Or else what?

MORTICIA:  Never mind.

MARILYN:  No, what were you going to say?

MORTICIA:  I have no desire to cast aspersions on your aunt's character, but…

MARILYN:  But what?

MORTICIA:  Well…are you quite sure that Herman is Eddie's father?

MARILYN:  How dare you!

MORTICIA:  Well he certainly didn't look anything like Herman.

GOMEZ:  No one looks anything like Herman.

MARILYN:  (seething) I am going to make some more phone calls. When I get back, I will get to the bottom of this… and I will have justice for my cousin's murder!

(Wednesday enters. She is wearing her customary black dress and carrying a gun.)

MORTICIA:  Wednesday? What are you doing with that gun?

WEDNESDAY:  I was playing Russian roulette. I lost.

GOMEZ:  That's my girl! Good to see you're your old self again, Wednesday!

WEDNESDAY:  (not hearing him, in her own world) One bullet. Just one bullet. Do you think I could kill all three of us with one bullet?

GOMEZ:  If you did, it would be one hell of a shot.

(She points the gun at Gomez, Morticia and herself, in turn, and pulls the trigger. The gun does not fire.)

GOMEZ:  (pulling out a gun) My turn!

MORTICIA:  Gomez, Wednesday—remember my rule about guns in the house.

GOMEZ:  (putting gun away) Sorry, Tish—I forgot. What'll it be, Wednesday—knives or sabers?

WEDNESDAY:  You see? This is exactly what Dr. Crane was talking about! What kind of family duels with each other? (She bursts into tears.)

FESTER:  Poor kid!

GRANDMAMA:  I'll talk to her.

FESTER:  Please, Mama—be sympathetic.

GRANDMAMA:  You don't think I can be sympathetic? I can be sympathetic. (She crosses to Wednesday.) Put a sock in it, Wednesday! (Wednesday stops crying.) Still moping over wolf boy?

WEDNESDAY:  Oh, Grandmama! I miss him so much!

GRANDMAMA:  Sure you do. But it would never have worked out between you two, believe me. Oh, yes, it's wonderful at first—werewolves are wild, passionate creatures, and they make fantastic lovers. But then come the drains clogged with fur, the claw marks on the furniture—and forget about trying to housebreak them.

WEDNESDAY:  How do you know so much about it?

GRANDMAMA:  I was in love with a werewolf once.

WEDNESDAY:  Really?

GRANDMAMA:  It was a long time ago. He was beautiful—thick silver fur, soulful brown eyes—and that tongue…!

WEDNESDAY:  What happened?

GRANDMAMA:  Well, it's a long story, but trust me on this—werewolves are bad news.

WEDNESDAY:  Not my Eddie! (She begins crying again.)

GOMEZ:  Say, I know what will cheer Wednesday up! Cha-cha?… Mambo?… Tango! Hit it, Fester!

The scene ends with Fester singing a tango, as Gomez dances first with Wednesday, then with Morticia. My preference was The Masochism Tango, by Tom Lehrer—

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the masochism tango... 

Want to know what happens next? Stay tuned for next week's episode, "Death at a Séance!"

My final appearance as Fester with the Gypsy Players,
Acton Lions Club, February 16, 2008.

Confessions of a Sitcom Killer

For the past thirteen years, I have been leading a double life: by day, a mild-mannered researcher/editor/business writer; by night (and the occasional weekend), a cold-blooded killer—

a killer of sitcom characters.

It began in 1999. For the past couple of years, I had been performing in mystery dinner theater productions with a group of friends in Simi Valley, California. At the time, we had two scripts in our repertory, both of which followed the same simple formula: a couple of murders (with as many gunshots as possible), a liberal dose of comedy sprinkled with a few clues, a little audience participation, and a prize to the audience member who came closest to solving the mystery.

"I bet I could write one of these," I thought.

So I did.

My first mystery script began with a simple idea: what if none of the characters on Gilligan's Island were what they appeared to be? I threw in elements of The Love Boat, Speed, and Titanic, and set it on the Skipper's brand new (and much larger) ship, the Millennium Minnow.

The Last Cruise of the S.S. Minnow premiered in the spring of 2000. I was afraid some of the younger audience members wouldn't get the references. However, thanks to cable channels like Nickelodeon and TV Land, the sitcom characters of my childhood had become immortal—at least until I murdered them. In The Last Cruise of the S.S. Minnow, I killed off nearly half of the castaways.

And yet my thirst for the blood of innocent victims remained unslaked.

In the years to come, I would go on to gleefully slaughter beloved characters from The Addams Family, The Golden Girls, I Love Lucy, Bewitched, and The Beverly Hillbillies. Why? Because it was fun, and because I could. Want to know why I could? Two words—

FAIR USE.

That's right, the law couldn't touch me—or so I thought.

Friends helped me market my scripts, and soon theatrical troupes around the country were performing them. I began to make money from the royalties—not enough to even think about giving up my day job, but at least I could say, "I'm a professional writer." I, along with several of my fellow sitcom killers, was even mentioned in an article in the Wall Street Journal. People began to sit up and take notice.

Unfortunately, some of the people who began to sit up and take notice were people who held copyrights to the characters I was killing.

Now, before I go any further, I want to make it clear that the copyright holders I'm referring to were not the people who created these characters. I could understand the creator of one of my victims being upset over the demise of a favorite character. However, the creators of these particular characters were, themselves, quite dead. (And before you jump to conclusions, I had nothing to do with their deaths; ironically, they died of natural causes.)

So these particular copyright holders had no particular sentimental attachment to my victims. What they did have was lots of money, which meant that they could afford lots of lawyers. How many lawyers could I afford? Exactly none.

So I gave up killing sitcom characters. Oh, I still write the occasional murder mystery script, but I make sure all of my victims are either my own creations or safely in the public domain. Somehow, it doesn't compare with the satisfaction of murdering an innocent sitcom character—for instance, a character like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory.

Now, there's a guy who's just begging to be a victim.

Helpful Hints

I'm a big fan of Heloise. I read her column every day in the Ventura County Star. However, I don't always agree with her household hints. In fact, I have come up with quite a few solutions to everyday problems that, in my humble opinion, beat the pants off hers. I have submitted several of them to her, but for some reason, she hasn't printed them. Here they are. Feel free to use them and pass them on.

1. Removing Permanent Marker From Clothing

How many times has this happened to you? You're busily writing something with a permanent marker—your name on a tool you borrowed from a neighbor, the address on a box of rattlesnakes you're sending to your boss, a mustache on a priceless portrait in the Louvre. Suddenly, you're distracted—by an irate neighbor, an escaped rattlesnake, or a French museum guard—and you're writing on your own shirt instead of the object you wished to write on! With permanent marker! Your shirt is ruined, right? Not necessarily. Here's what Heloise says to do:

Put a couple of white paper towels under the stain. Then, using a clear, nonfragranced, acetone-free nail-polish remover on another paper towel, begin to gently dab the stained area. Check the paper towels frequently to see if the color transfers onto the towels. Do not rub or use too much of the remover, because it might spread the stain. When you have removed as much as possible, put laundry detergent on the spot, gently rub it in and then launder. Let air-dry, and retreat if necessary.

Seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? Here's my suggestion: use the permanent marker to turn that ugly stain into a lovely design. Completely cover your shirt with polka dots, squiggly lines, farm animals—whatever. Let your imagination run wild. Your friends will be envious. "Where can I get a shirt like that?" they'll ask. "I'm afraid it's one of a kind," you will answer, truthfully.

"Very stylish!" they will say.

2. Removing Candle Wax From Carpet

This seems to be a common problem. Here's how Heloise suggests you handle it:

Fill a metal pan with ice and place it on top of the candle wax until it's completely frozen. Use a small hammer to break up the hardened wax. Pick up or vacuum the pieces. Then apply a dry-cleaning solvent on a clean cloth to get rid of any residue left on the carpet.

My solution is much simpler: just cover the spot with a footstool. Of course, if it's in the middle of the room, someone will probably trip over it. "Why the #@$% would anyone put a #@$%*&! footstool in the middle of the #@$%*&! room?" they will say.

If this happens, just smile and say, "Didn't you know? Everyone is putting footstools in the middles of rooms these days. It's the latest thing."

"Very stylish!" they will say.

3. Removing Chewing Gum From Hair

Personally, I have never had this problem. I don't chew gum, and I left most of my hair in the last century. Even when I had hair and did chew gum, I never got gum in my hair. However, judging by the number of times Heloise has addressed the issue over the years, an awful lot of people do have this problem. (How does this happen, anyway? Do they take the gum out of their mouths, decide to put it back in, and suddenly forget where their mouths are? Or does the gum come from someone else's mouth? I don't even want to think about it.)

Anyway, Heloise suggests you "use peanut butter (smooth, not crunchy) and work through the hair." Even if it isn't crunchy peanut butter, this makes no sense to me. Now you've got chewing gum and peanut butter in your hair. I'm not sure which is worse.

My suggestion is to simply put on a hat, leave it on your head until your next visit to the barber or hair stylist, and let them deal with it. They are trained for this sort of thing. With a hat on, no one will ever suspect that you have a big wad of gum in your hair. Also, hats are very stylish.

If you often get chewing gum stuck in your hair, you might want to consider wearing a hat whenever you chew gum. Of course, you will probably end up with chewing gum stuck to your hat. But if that happens, you can just tell people, "It's the latest thing."

"Very stylish!" they will say.

A Good Villain Is Hard to Find

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.

—Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Richard the Third

This week I read in a BBC news story that British archaeologists believe they may have found the remains of King Richard III. They're pretty excited about it. A member of the Richard III Society was quoted as saying, "It is such a tumult of emotions... I just feel happy and sad and excited all at the same time. It is very odd." Odd indeed. First of all, I had no idea Richard III was missing. It seems pretty careless of the English to misplace one of their kings like that. Second—

There's a Richard III Society?

I looked it up. It was founded in 1924 with the goal of setting the record straight about one of England's most misunderstood monarchs. Apparently there is no evidence whatsoever that he was the hunchbacked villain portrayed by Shakespeare, no evidence whatsoever that he systematically murdered members of his own family to get at the crown. Apparently he was just a regular guy (well, regular king) with a touch of scoliosis who was the innocent victim of a vicious slander campaign.

This is so wrong.

The world needs good villains. What good is a hero without one? What would Superman be without Lex Luthor? What would Dorothy be without the Wicked Witch? What would Luke Skywalker be without Darth Vader? (I mean, of course, apart from the obvious fact that he'd never have been born.) What would all of those Disney princesses be without their respective wicked stepmothers?

The answer, of course, is "nothing."

Come to think of it, who needs a hero? There's no hero in Shakespeare's Tragedy of Richard the Third. There is only Richard—one of the greatest villains of all time.

Every actor worth his salt wants to play Richard. Or her salt. In 2003, Loretta and I were fortunate enough to attend a historic all-female production of Richard III at Shakespeare's Globe in London. Kathryn Hunter was simply brilliant as Richard. As one reviewer put it, "Miss Hunter makes a superbly evil King with a wry sense of humour and her gender is never an issue."

That's what's made Richard so appealing to actors and audiences for nearly four hundred years—that perfect combination of superb evil and sly humor.

So please, please, please stop trying to rehabilitate my favorite villain. I'd hate to see him relegated to the status of an ordinary king. I'd much prefer to remember him as Shakespeare's "poisonous bunchback'd toad," with a sense of morality—and humor—as twisted as his spine.

What's more, I think he would prefer it, too.

"A murderous villain, and so still thou art."

A Good Weekend

Last weekend should have been a great weekend. After all, it was Labor Day weekend—a three-day weekend, and you can never have too many of those. Add to that the fact that we were visiting our friends, Ron and Judie Kewish, in Arroyo Grande. We always have a wonderful time when we visit Ron and Judie, and there's the bonus of getting to spend some time on California's beautiful central coast. Finally, we got to see another of Ron and Judie's always-excellent mystery dinner theater productions.

 

So why wasn't it a great weekend?

I first met Ron and Judie Kewish in 1996, when the three of us began performing mystery dinner theater with John and Roxanne Diesel in Simi Valley, California. John and Roxanne were old hands at this form of theater, but it was a new experience for us. No stage, no proscenium, and—except for entrances and exits—no blocking. Just a dining room where actors roamed freely among the tables, delivering lines during scripted scenes and improvising with the audience in character during scene breaks. We started out performing a couple of scripts from Samuel French, but once we understood the formula, Roxanne and I began writing scripts ourselves.

Shortly after Ron and Judie moved to the central coast, they started their own mystery dinner theater company: Murder In Mind Productions. They began by performing the scripts we had done together in Simi Valley, and when they needed more, they asked me to write new scripts for them. Eventually, they made a name for themselves, attracting audiences from all over the central coast and as far away as Bakersfield. This year marked their tenth season.

Mark Brunasso's first performance with MIM was in 2006. He played Joey Jitters, an over-caffeinated member of the Al Cappuccino gang in a parody of the Sopranos. It wasn't a large role, but Mark made the most of it, and he quickly became an invaluable member of the MIM troupe. What made Mark invaluable was his versatility: as the victim, he could get more laughs than anyone from a death scene; as the killer, he could fool everyone with his cherubic expression; as the detective, he could handle even the rowdiest audience with ease.

My favorite of Mark's roles was Tiny Tim in Dickens of a Murder. I loved the way he would rhapsodize over "turkey, with stuffing, potatoes, and gr-a-a-a-vy!" Earlier this year, in SLO Legal, he channeled William Shatner in an unforgettable rendition of Sinatra's It Was a Very Good Year. And in MIM's latest production, Pirates of Pirates' Cove, we were looking forward to seeing him reprise the role of Ben Gay, a part he also played in the 2008 and 2010 productions of the show.

The dismal state of the economy these past few years has made life difficult for many of us. The economy has been especially hard on MIM. Each year, more and performances have had to be canceled due to lack of attendance. Finally, this summer, Ron and Judie made the difficult decision to close MIM. Although they will consider reopening if and when the economy improves, last Sunday's performance of Pirates of Pirates' Cove was, in all probability, Murder In Mind's final public performance.

Unfortunately, Mark Brunasso could not be there. Three weeks ago, he died of heart failure.

So it wasn't a great weekend, but it was a good weekend. We had a nice visit with Ron and Judie, went for a long walk on the beach, and enjoyed the show. Jeff Lee, another MIM stalwart, stepped into Mark's role with only one rehearsal. His portrayal of Ben Gay would have made Mark proud.

After the show, we all—Ron, Judie, members of the MIM troupe, Loretta, and I—raised a parting glass—

to Murder In Mind,
which may return,

and to Mark Brunasso,
who will be remembered.

Mad About Science

 

This week, I'm going to talk to you about science. Now I know what you're thinking: "Are you kidding? This is an election year. The Republican National Convention just ended. The Democratic National Convention is next week. Why on earth aren't you discussing politics?" I have two very good reasons. First, in my opinion, science is a much more interesting topic than politics. Second, it's definitely a safer topic. These days, if you take a position on anything even remotely political, you can be sure that at least half the country will jump down your throat. Besides, I'm pretty sure that there are at least twice as many blogs about politics as there are people who read them.

So let's talk about science.

Science has accomplished some pretty amazing things. Only a month ago, it gently and precisely landed a vehicle the size of a minivan on the surface of Mars. But, as amazing as that is, it's still only rocket science. And rocket science, when you get right down to it, is just everyday, humdrum, run-of-the-mill science. And I'm not talking about everyday, humdrum, run-of-the-mill science.

I'm talking about mad science.

When I was a kid, my grandparents gave me an old microscope that had belonged to my father. I used to love looking at stuff through that microscope: bugs, leaves, pond water. It wasn't a very good microscope. In fact, the only thing I could ever see was the reflection of my own eye in the lens. But that didn't matter. When I looked through that microscope, I imagined myself to be a scientist—and no everyday, humdrum, run-of-the-mill scientist, either.

A mad scientist.

I never saw myself as Dr. Frankenstein. Even in my imagination, I never had the hubris to believe that I could create life. I would have been perfectly happy to be one of those minor mad scientists who accidentally grows a giant lizard in his laboratory. Then, when the citizenry came to me for help because "Stompy" was devouring the city, I would tell them why he was so big (radiation), and how to stop him (flamethrowers, a large dose of electricity, and lots of explosives).

I have tried to ignore all of the political brouhaha this week. Instead, I have been reliving the happy, mad scientist dreams of my childhood, while catching up on episodes of Dark Matters. A friend recently turned me on to this trippy, Ripleyesque program on the Science Channel, and now I'm hooked. In each episode, John Noble (who brilliantly portrays one of the greatest mad scientists of all time on Fringe) presents three "Twisted But True" reenactments of real-life mads gleefully going about the business of building death rays, transplanting monkey brains, reanimating corpses, and otherwise "tampering in God's domain" (as Ed Wood so eloquently put it).

If, like me, you're tired of politics, check out Dark Matters. It's more entertaining and more educational than any political speech—not to mention more factual.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my laboratory. "Stompy" is getting hungry.