Cranberry Lynx
a short Story about a Vegan lynx
struggling to make art in a meat world.

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Page 2 of Cranberry Lynx

Out in the night you thought, "When they cast me I will be the best player on their stage." The thorn jabbed in your throat. You stopped in your tracks. You looked to the stars with their dead light. Your first theatre teacher’s words echoed back to you, "Serve the play, not your vanity." You took a deep breath and accepted her wisdom. The thorn in your throat dissolved and you skipped home, happy as a soap bubble.

***

Two minutes in the house, Crie called to say, "Congratulations Catkin. You’re Angel if you want."

"I do. Thank you." You said over and over in the few moments it took to arrange the first rehearsal on Saturday.

When you hung up Wey said, "You’re cute. You’re voice kept getting higher and higher, like a kitten’s."

"I know." You agreed and kissed her. She kissed you back and you two did what two lynx do.

***

Friday, after Wey left for work, you wrote a synopsis of ‘Hole’ to better understand it.

Hole

In a dream, the business lion ROM falls in love with a prostitute named THINDOLL. Together, with the help of her brother ANGEL, they create a sex religion. As their enterprise grows, THINDOLL questions ROM’S intent. To answer her questions, ROM declares himself "hopelessly ugly", smears kangaroo blood on his cheeks, and wanders away in self-pity and despair. THINDOLL becomes psychotically angry, and with the help of ANGEL, they decapitate ROM, and take all his money. ROM wakes up, masturbates to a climax in front of the audience and says, "Good thing I killed that hole!"

You set your pen down, slapped yourself in the head and exclaimed, "Another meat play! I’ve committed myself to another meat play! Damn, Damn, Damn! "

After a moment the horror of realization subsided and you called Crie to ask, "Is this work satire or farce?"

"Did Shakespeare ever work as a plumber?"

"What?"

"The answer is no." Crie said and added, "If you have any more questions bring them with you Saturday." He hung up.

A thorn grew. You swallowed it. One of the primary teachings of theatre is once you commit to a show, the only reason to back out is death. You panicked. You picked up your pen and began to contrive a worthwhile vegan theme. Hours later, Wey came home and you read what you wrote, "Accepting personal and social ugliness causes positive change and unconditional love."

"I like it, but how do you get that out of Crie’s work?"

"It wasn’t easy. Okay. Here goes. First we have two people in love. Their love gives them the inspiration to create a sex religion. By the tenants of their religion, the womyn sees the man corrupt. She question his intent. When confronted, he cowers from his own ugliness, which results in his own death in his dreams, and then his love’s death in the reality of the play. ‘Good thing I killed that hole.’ Now, at a glance, the theme might be ‘Hide from yourselves and kill your lovers.’ But that’s insane. So, the thinking audience, if they look through the blatant stupidity of the work, might get this from the play’s actions: ‘If not accepting personal ugliness causes hate and death, then accepting ugliness must cause life and love.’"

Wey smiled politely. " I like it, but I think it’s a stretch."

"I know. But it’s all I’ve got." Your stomach felt tight and queasy. You added, "Lets go out and not think about it for awhile."

"Okay." Wey agreed.

***

Saturday, you met at an upstairs cafe to rehearse. Once settled into your chairs, you read the theme you found. When done, Crie looked to Jeb, smiled big teeth, said, "He’s bright," and they both burst into a laugh.

A thorn stuck in your throat. Your claws emerged. You prepare to force feed them ‘Hole’ page per page. You froze in your intent when you noticed a purple tear seep from Crie’s eye.

Jeb wiped it clean with a pocket napkin and said, "Crie, Catkin doesn’t understand our humor."

"No. No. But he will." Crie forced himself to stop laughing.

"Yes. It will take him awhile." Jeb concurred while sniffing the napkin before putting it back in his pocket.

"No. I don’t understand." You stated with restraint.

Jeb and Crie put on happy friendly faces and smile patiently at you. Crie said, "Theme, Catkin, isn’t what ‘Hole’ is about."

"What is it then?"

"It’s like this." Crie began in a radio voice, broadcasting himself to the room, "The other day I went for a walk and I forgot my camera and I missed all the beauty of the mountains. That’s wrong." Crie slammed his fist on the table. "That I want to get at with this script."

"What? Anxiety over material mementos?"

"Well, not exactly," Crie said as his cheek began to twitch..

"Here. Let me explain." Jeb interrupted and indicated for Crie to stop his cheek. "Sometimes Crie doesn’t say exactly what he means."

"No. I can finish." Crie resumed after stopping the twitch with a careful prick of his claw. "It’s like this. Do you see that wall over there?"

"Yes."

"Well, That wall with its shades of brick red and mortar, yellow lamp light, haze from cigarette smoke, steam of espresso machine, aroma of coffee beans roasting, chatter of glasses, conversation of all these animal people needing something to believe in, I find it all beautiful, and that beauty I want to give to my audience."

"God."

"What?"

"The intrinsic beauty of everything I call God."

"Yes. Well He..."

"IT."

"What?"

"IT. You called God He. IT is a better none sexist’s choice. A little awkward in the saying at first, but like me with your humor, I’m sure you’ll get used to IT."

"Yes. Well. Whatever IT is, I want to give IT to my audience."

"The theme I see in your work should do that if the audience acts the paradox."

Cries cheek twitched severely. "Forget theme Catkin." He nearly snarled.

Jeb indicated for Crie to stop his cheek again and said, "What we want to do Catkin is say something in earnest."

In that moment you saw Crie and Jeb as not very competent con artists. Jeb saw the distrust in your eyes and asked, "What’re you thinking Catkin?"

"That I don’t know what you two or this play is about."

"Making vegan art of course."

"Then why all this hesitating over the theme?"

Nasoon spoke up, "Because they, we, think it arrogant and pretentious to say anything pointed in theatre." She sipped her tea with a faint smile to Jeb.

Crie regained himself, "Wait. In opposite. Do you think Jeb?"

"No Absolutely. Yes. Absolutely Yes, Crie. Yes."

"You Nasoon?"

"Sure Crie. Whatever."

"Good. So it’s settled. We agree with your theme, Catkin. So, let’s say we meet at Nasoon's on Monday for a read through."

"You haven’t found a theatre yet?" Nasoon asked with annoyance.

"Soon, Nasoon. Soon."

"Mm-huh."

"Nasoon." Jeb began, "May we use your apartment on Monday for another read through?"

She smiled at him, "Yes."

"Good. So Monday, Catkin?"

"Ah. Yeah. I guess. But I have other questions."

"Like what?" Crie’s cheek twitched.

"Objective and obstacles. Time and place. It’s all very ambiguous."

"It’s suppose to be."

"But I need specifics to make character."

"Catkin, just forget those things. Now that we’ve agreed on a theme, all we want you to do is memorize the lines and say them."

"I don’t work that way."

"Why not?"

"Because I wind up with no emotional truth and the audience falls asleep."

"Your character doesn’t have any truth."

"Is that his truth?"

Crie took a deep breathe and spoke with a forced patience, "Catkin. You’re very talented. We saw that the other day in your audition. But now we need you to stop clinging to truth like a frightened kitten. Just let those things go. Trust your talent, and ours, and we all will do a great, great thing." Crie’s voice and eyes penetrated you with a deep calm. In the purple of his pupil, you saw a vision of you and Wey living a life of luxury, making art all day, and never again selling your sweat to a corporation’s greed. You agreed and left.

Walking home the thorn from Crie’s laugh spun slow circles in your throat.

***

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