As Shawn's eyes open his limbs flex in shock. There was a liquid in them, around his entire body too. Strings, tubes really, ran up each nostril and all that met his skin was the warm sensation that surrounded him. There was binding on his limbs and around his neck.

Puppet Strings.

Without a conscious thought, a choice, his body did what any must to survive. Every muscle was stronger than it should ever be and there was no mental restraint on the force Shawn could use.

He was in a tank of water.

Mr. Clayton was on the outside of the tank. But his body was lifeless and his eyes stared up vacantly. Still, even though his mouth didn't move, he was communicating with Shawn. His mind communicated thoughts to Shawn.




"See how I am a dummy? I am a trifle. I am nothing." Mr. Clayton said sadly.

"But you are also a dummy. You have your own puppet strings." And he began to list the things in Shawn's life that bound him.

"Your mother. And your worry that she will never accept you."

"Your desire to have a career and to be liked."

"Your need to fix things around you like Eddie and Ralph and Bobby."

"Oh, so many attachments you have. Each of these strings you think is necessary to breath. But they don't help you breath. They suck the life out of you and make you their dummy. A trifle. A puppet being pulled with various strings of conflicting wants and needs."

"You're no better than me, really. You just don't look like a Puppet."

Shawn wasn't entirely sure if this was another dream, or if somehow Mr. Clayton had actually put him in a tank of water, or some blend of the two. He struggled against his binding, first on instinct, and then of his own volition. He could feel Mr. Clayton's thoughts in his mind, even as he struggled. He couldn't speak, but he thought back a response. If I didn't want things, I wouldn't do anything! Still, he continued to struggled against the less metaphorical tubes that were binding him.

Shawn struggled and the tubes came off. Right off. The tank broke. Glass shattered onto the ground and there was a large wave of water that poured out into the open, warehouse-like space that he found himself in.

Shawn gingerly stepped out of the tube, watching carefully for broken glass. He looked around the strange space he found himself in, and looked for Mr. Clayton as well.

"Where are we!?" Junior said, slightly panicked. He looked around the warehouse. Tall rows of shelving with wooden crates lined the entire area, like it was straight out of Raiders of the Lost Arc.

"It's real Shawn. This isn't some kind of joke." Mr. Clayton said, and his slatted mouth moved as he hopped down from a nearby chair, walking towards Shawn and Junior with jerking, puppet-legged movements.

Shawn saw that the tubes hand somehow reappeared--from within. They came out of his nose and snaked down his jaw. They came from some of his pores on his arms and legs, slithering first across his skin and then reaching high into the air.

Clink!

There was a sound of the strings connecting to the ceiling. But it was so dark up there it was impossible to see what they had attached to.

Shawn tugged on the strings, not so much trying to get free as figure out what the strings were attached to. “What’s going on, Mr Clayton?” He looked over a Junior, checking if he had strings attached, or if he looked like he’d just come out of a tube of water.

"You tell me." Mr. Clayton snapped, anger in the Puppet's voice. "You're supposed to be a dedicated Ventriloquist. But you care more about other things. I think these other things, these 'strings' are what control you. After all our practice, you still hold onto the idea that these things are more important and for that, this things hold onto you!"

"The Puppet! It's talking!" Junior freaked. He didn't have any strings. He fell backwards onto his butt, and pointed upward at Mr. Clayton.

"It's okay, Junior. It's all part of the show." Shawn tried to sound reassuring, though he had his mind on other things. He tried to pull the strings out of his body again, and if they came loose again, this time tried to keep hold of them. He retreated a little bit from Mr. Clayton's anger, but he steeled himself to try and argue his case back. "You can't say that about me after all the work I put into the show! I haven't done anything else in ages. I worked so hard, and you can't pretend it isn't important to me."

"It’s not me doing this to you!” Mr Clayton fired back."You have to ask yourself what is most important. I’ll......Make it easier for you and spell it out the best way a dumb piece of wood like me can do: What is more important? Practicing Ventriloquism or doing a good job on the next rehearsal so Mom is happy?!"

“I wanna go home, I don’t like this show. I wanna go home. Somethings I can go and do by myself because I’m older but I don’t like this. I’m not happy! I don’t like this puppet show. It’s not fun. It’s not fun anymore!”

Shawn felt trapped and pressured by both Junior and Mr. Clayton, and he was still a boy who tended to go along with what people wanted him to do. "Practicing Ventriloquism - that's more important. Now please, stop scaring Junior!" It felt to Shawn like he truly meant it, at least.

"It’s not me Shawn. But your answer is righty-tightly. The thing about this whole string thing is that its kind of just sort of what you are like.” Mr Clayton affirmed affably. The strings started to recede. At first, they loosened from Shawn’s skin. Then they retracted from his nose, slithering like worms before finally letting go of him and floating up into the high recesses of the warehouse ceiling, disappearing from sight."Very good. I see that right now you are pulling yourself closer to being at attention. Now that your mind is focused, you must also focus your body. Sit at that chair. Sit straight, to show your commitment to greater ventriloquism. Then I will sit on your lap, and we can begin the show!" Mr. Clayton said with glee

Shawn rubbed his arms gingerly as the strings receded - it didn't hurt, but it felt like they should have hurt. He wasn't sure how he felt about starting the show again - certainly, Junior was probably past the point of enjoying it as an audience member - but he didn't see any other way out of this strange space. Still soaked from the tube, he sat down on the chair with a slight squishing sound. Fortunately, all those hours of practice meant that sitting up straight and being ready for a dummy on his lap was practically automatic. He even mustered a showman's smile, though this one was a little gloomier than before.

Shawn heard and felt the squishy, languid water make wet, plopping noise in between his toes and in his socks.


"This is now the part of the Big Show! We’re going to skip right to the best part. Right to a new part, that, thanks to grace and wisdom of Greater Ventriloquism which all good things come, we’re going to try and succeed for the first time ever!.” Mr Clayton announced with joy and more than a showman’s voice. Shawn’s skin prickled involuntarily, the hairs standing up.

“We’re going to switch places! Not just places! But Bodies! And then we’re going to switch back! You’ll be able to tell when it happens because Shawns voice will come out of me! And mine out of his. All you have to do Shawn is put your hand up my back and say “I give myself to Greater Ventriloquism!”Mr. Clayton said with glee

“Uh...Ok.” Junior said with trepidation, perhaps still surprised by seeing a puppet independently talk and being whisked away into an unknown place—a warehouse with a broken water tank. Still, Junior had a small crack of a smile, like the show was pulling him in the way a fisherman might reel in the first days catch.

Shawn didn't remember practising this part before, but it didn't seem too complicated - it was just a matter of switching up which voice he used when, right? And Junior seemed to be calming down, so he couldn't just stop the show! Shawn slid his hand up Mr. Clayton's back, and spoke in a cheerful, showy voice. “I give myself to Greater Ventriloquism!”

“Yay!” Junior cried out almost immediately, as if the hero in one of Shawns movies had saved someone. Or as if Shawn himself was a hero for announcing the words. Whatever fears Junior had were now completely evaporated, as he was caught up in the moment.

Yet the words were much more than just a whimsical phrase. As they left Shawns lips, sounding out in the air, they sounded less like the ‘abracadabra’ of a showman on a stage and more like that of a creator. The words echoed in a cosmic verberation throughout the warehouse and Shawn saw faint pin-picks, bright and brilliant cloud his vision for just a few seconds. The life of the words that came from Shawns mouth breathed into the reality of the wish.

A space had been created through Shawns utterance. A new reality was unfolding. This wasn’t evident in any material way, but rather, in a shared and undeniable and experiential. It was In this same way that Shawn knew that GI Joes really were the Real American Heroes and that they always would be.

Shawn looked around, trying to understand what he had just unleashed. Was this the Greater Ventriloquism that Mr. Clayton had said would solve his problems? Or was this yet another step? He looked over at Junior, wondering if the younger boy knew something he didn't.

Junior suddenly stood up straighter, eyes wide as if he too was confused and alarmed at what had been Felt. Junior looked around he was worried clearly and thought to himself or at least appeared to, that something was very wrong.
“What’s going on!?” He asked Shawn

Mr. Clayton had grown silent. The puppets eyes stared vacantly up at the ceiling. A fly buzzing around in the silence and settled on Mr. Clayton’s wooden nose. The air above Mr. Clayton‘s head seem to shiver. It had the look of hot air simmering above black pavement during a hot summer day. A shimmering that seemed to distort the very reality just above the wooden puppets limp body.

Shawn tried to move away from the shimmer, keeping his eyes locked on it the whole time. He wasn't quite sure what he'd unleashed, or even if he'd been the one doing it. Was this really part of Mr. Clayton's planned show?

He squinted into the shimmer, trying to see if anything was inside of it.

As Shawn squinted, he suddenly felt his eyelids grow heavy. Not with any sense of sleepiness, but with the sense that they were stiff and....

wooden.

Suddenly Shawn looked up and saw Shawn Cramer. The boy was walking around in a stilted fashion. It was Shawn's own body, moving with an awkwardness like he didn't know how to walk.

Shawn looked down and saw his own hand was that of a wooden Puppet's.

"Yucka! Yucka!" Shawn Pronounced. And with that, Shawn knew that Mr. Clayton and him had switched bodies.

Shawn looked down at his wooden body and tried to flex his arms and legs as fear gripped him - it seemed that Mr. Clayton hadn't been talking about using voice-throwing tricks for this 'body switching' number. He tried to stand up, to move around, to get a sense of the capabilities of his newly wooden body.

Fortunately, his stiff face made it really easy to hide his growing panic. He tried to think about what he should do - he didn't really understand how Mr. Clayton had done it, but the former puppet in his body had said they'd switch back as part of the trick. Maybe he just had to play along, not freak out until it was over? "Well, I guess I'm the dummy this time!" He forced himself to sound cheery...though even as he tried to say it, he realized he wasn't sure if he could actually talk when he was like this.

"That's right! Yucka! Yucka!" Shawn, or in this case, Mr. Clayton said. Shawn's body moved with a stilted awkwardness, like  a wooden puppet whose strings had been cut. His head lolled to one side, his hands slack but stiff at the joints near the elbow.

"Whatttya think Junior!?"

Junior stared, open-mouthed at the grotesque scene before him. Because there was something grotesque about it. Something unnaturally monstrous. This wasn't immediately obvious until Junior said.

"Its......gross?" And with that comment, the grotesque nature of the scene, and how it could be viewed as such, snapped into focus.


"But....amazing..." Junior gawked, like he was viewing the results of a train wreck that he knew would give him nightmares later, but was unable to look away from the carnival of carnage before him.

As gross as it was for Junior to watch, it was even more off-putting for Shawn. On top of watching his own body move around, his puppet body didn't need to breathe or blink and didn't have any body heat, and noticing that contributed to a pervasive sense of unease about the whole thing. But he tried to keep the show going, so that Mr. Clayton got to the end of his trick and swapped them back. "That's right, it's a great trick! But its got nothing on the grand finale up next!"

Shawn didn't remember much about the structure of the show, but he hoped the prospect of a big show-stopping number would give Mr. Clayton incentive to finish the 'swap' and restore them to their rightful bodies. He didn't know what Mr. Clayton might have planned as a final act, but Shawn was prepared to improvise one if it meant switching back.

Shawn's body didn't so much walk as much as it stammered across the slick, gray pavement of the warehouse, sneakers dragging, arms flopping. It seemed to take an eternity as Mr. Clayton spoke, Shawn's body lagging behind.

"Here I come! Here I come Junior! I'm coming for you! Boo!" Mr. Clayton's voice said. Then he laughed that same Puppet-laugh. The rictus of chuckles shook Shawn's body and threatened to tip it over to one side before Mr. Clayton seemed to correct it with an inner tug of a puppet string.

It was still a slow motion movement as Shawn's body dragged forward towards Junior.

"Oh no! He's coming! He's coming! The Big-Bad Puppet is coming!" Junior shouted with joy. It was as if he was genuinely excited the way that a kid might be excited about going on a haunted house ride or seeing one at a Carnival and pointing it out to his friends.

Shawn watched as his body trailed after Junior in a horrible parody of human movement. It was gross to look at, but he wasn't sure how he could make it stop. The only other thing he could think of, other than waiting and hoping Mr. Clayton would swap back when the trick was over, was seeing if he could do it himself. After all, if Mr. Clayton could make the swap in the first place, surely Shawn could do the same in reverse, right? He looked up towards where the strange ripple had first appeared (still was?), and concentrated really hard. Swap us back, swap us back, swap us back...
This message was last edited by the player at 12:53, Wed 27 Nov 2019.

"Now hold on just one second now..." Shawn's body said to Shawn out loud in response to Shawn's request. Because, even though they were switched, they were still connected.

Connected

Perhaps more now for having switched then they ever had been before. Mr. Clayton, for his part, was rubbing Shawn's arm's and touching Shawn's face as if he was getting used to 'wearing' Shawn. Shawn, on the other hand, could feel the stiffness and restraints of being a wooden puppet, only capable of movement as the design allowed. Also, there was a wooden smell that was old and dry emanating from Mr. Clayton's puppet body. It smelled like the old case that Shawn had known the puppet came in. The same case that he had seen many times Bradford hold.

Don't you want to finish the Show? Mr. Clayton asked Shawn, though this time it wasn't out loud, but in Shawn's mind that he heard Mr. Clayton talk. Mr. Clayton spoke to Shawn through Shawn's mind, transcending the verbal patterns of the spoken word, so that the words themselves appeared in Shawn's mind's eye more like a thought than a series of individual words. The idea itself was woven into the contextual fabric of thought and could not be separated from the reality of being inside of Mr. Clatyon, watching Shawn's own body stagger towards Junior in stilted, irregular steps.

"Yes! Yes! Come towards me! Here I am!" Junior yelled, delighted that Shawn's body was lumbering forward, and somehow knowing, or at least, appearing to know or believe that it wasn't Shawn at all but the magical Mr. Clayton that had switched minds with Shawn.

Junior looked like a kid who was excited to see that the ice cream truck had appeared on the block, turning towards him as the result of his yelling and hollering at it.

Despite the weird smells and the stiffness in his wooden body, Shawn actually calmed down a little. Part of it was the realization that they were still connected, but it was also Mr. Clayton’s reaction. The fact that he was asking Shawn to continue and not just ignoring him helped reassure him that this was, in fact, temporary, and that Shawn could switch back if and when he really wanted to. Sorry, keep going - the show must go on!

He fixed his wooden gaze on Junior and let out an exaggerated, clearly performative shout. “Watch out for the big bad puppet!”

Mr. Clayton--in Shawn's body--staggered forward with Junior rejoicing. Just as Shawn--in Mr. Clayton's body--had uttered the phrase about the big, bad puppet, Shawn watched his arm swing back in a full arc.

Whack!!

There was a meaty, thud sound as Shawn's body smacked Junior right across the face with an open-palmed slap.

Whack!!

Shawn's body caught Junior on a backhand with with same hand, and something flew through the air, a tooth.

Whack!!

The next open-palm smack sent Junior stumbling backwards, reeling in a half circle. Shawn, from his vantage point inside of Mr. Clayton's body, could see that Shawn's body had a red hand, whose knuckles were bleeding.

"Yucka! Yucka!!!!!" Mr. Clayton's voice sang through the air, an affirmation of the violent spectacle that was very much a grotesque Three Stooges show, albeit with a more violent, slapstick tone.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Thu 28 Nov 2019.

Junior stopped spinning. His hand was pressed against his face, Shawn unable to see the small boy's reaction. His shoulders started to jerk like he was sobbing silently. His other hand grabbed the other side of his face, back completely turned to both Mr. Clayton and Shawn.

Through his knuckles, a single trickled of blood eked out and ran down his forearm before falling to the floor. Junior started to emit a low, sobbing sound, like the reaction of pain had just started and was about to build in a louder sound that promised to take up the entire warehouse.

Shawn's first thought after the first slap was that this was some sort of terrible accident, that Mr. Clayton was still getting used to his body and had accidentally swung too hard. But then he struck Junior two more times as Shawn watched in horror. What're you doing?! That can't be part of the show!

Juniors shoulder started to bounce up and down with the tell tale silence of someone in the midst of deep sobbing. He turned to face Shawn and Mr. Clayton, hands covering his face. Then he dropped his hands...

....to reveal a face that was smiling. To be sure, Junior had a fat lip that was split. His smile sported a missing front tooth, fresh blood staining his white teeth with a brownish hue.

“That was amazing!” Junior stated, a slight lisp and a bit of a whistle escaping his mouth because of the missing tooth.

“Whattya know! He likes us, he really likes us!” Mr. Clayton said in mock actor’s voice, a parody of some famous quote someone must have said not too long ago.

“See? It’s all part of the show. All part of the performance. You’ve got to give yourself over to Greater Ventriloquism. You’ve got to...loosen up a bit.” He said gesturing a Shawns...or in this case, Mr. Clayton’s body.

Shawn was completely confused, looking back and forth between Junior and Mr. Clayton in his body. I guess...he does? Sorry, I should've trusted you. Despite his apology, he had no idea why Junior was acting this way. "Do you...want a cloth or a bandaid or anything, Junior?"

“Did you see that?” Junior sloughed, mouth sounding like it was full of mush. He looked over at Mr. Clayton’s body where Shawns mind resided.

“I mean! I’ve never, ever seen anything like it. That was just something so fun and so exciting. It felt like I was on a roller coaster when he hit me. It felt like I just played all day! All day with my closest friends. It felt like Christmas and getting just what Santa was told to get, just what you told him you wanted. You know? Or like on your birthday, like when you’re about to blow out the candles, you know? Like right after everyone sings. It’s like that. It’s just like all of that!” Junior seemed so wrapped up in the moment, he didn’t answer Shawns question.

It was completely weird...but Shawn wasn't going to question such a positive response. Though he knew he'd have to talk to Mr. Clayton about all this when the show was over. "That's great, Junior! Guess I was the one acting like a dummy, getting all worried."

As Junior began to speak, no, It wasn’t speaking as much as it was rambling. I was talking about how fun things were how much you like ice cream and how he had a reoccurring scratch on the bottom of his foot for what seemed like forever. But most of all, who was waving his arms around and excited gestures. As he did so blood stream down his chin pooling at the bottom of his neck.

“This is the most fun that I’ve had in so long. And I knew we were best friends Shawn...I mean… Mr. Clayton… I mean, well you know what I mean. It’s like this is been so much fun I can’t even believe it. I mean I knew we were friends but now I just feel like we are closer than ever on your bestest bestest friend.”.

Shawn was taken aback by Junior's rambling joy, especially contrasted with the blood coming out of his mouth. There was a sense of unreality to how he was acting, like it was a weird dream he was having where he couldn't quite grasp the logic. So he kept playing along, lest he make a misstep and make things worse by breaking some unknown rule. "I'm glad you like the show - you're being a great audience!"

“When’s the next show?” Junior asked looking over it for Shawn and then Mr. Clayton, Or rather the puppet and then a small boy. Junior is happy but also clearly confused. Perhaps that was the reason why he was happy. Jubilant really. Yup and the smell is about to say something else, but then he just settled for closing it shut. His eyes look way, And then the other. Emily Emily.

Shawn looked at Junior in confusion, unsure of what was going on. Who was Emily, and what was the smell about to say?

It all made no sense. It felt like a dream. Who was Emily? Why was Shawn able to read Junior's thoughts for a second?

What was going on?

"Alright then!" Mr. Clayton in Shawn's body said. "You go tell all your friends about this show! Alright?"

"I know there's a few things we have to tighten up. Yucka Yucka! But be a good sport and spread the word!"

Shawn shook off the sense of confusion as Mr. Clayton spoke - he could figure out what was going on later. "Oh, but wait Mr. Clayton, the show's not quite over yet. There's still one more trick we've gotta show Junior." Shawn wasn't going to let this finish until everything was back to normal - both swapping back, and getting back to his room.

"Oh! Right!!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced, as if having remembered something important.

"I give myself to Greater Ventriloquism!!!" Mr. Clayton-Shawn said, closing his eyes.

And, if by magic, Shawn felt the wooden eyes of the Puppet snap shut on his own vision with an involuntary 'click.'

With his eyes closed, Shawn concentrated really hard on being back in his own body, and his own room. Though, remembering the strange ripple effect that had happened last time, as a little experiment, he pictured his own room as being cleaner and smelling nicer than it had been previously.

As Shawn concentrated, it was clear that Ralph was leaving his room. Not just with a split lip, but with a broad smile that seems to open the gash even further. But it wasn’t just an open wound. It was an open mind. It was if Ralph was leaving the room having seen some sort of event. Or perhaps, experienced some kind of religious revelation. These were all things Shawn knew, the same way someone knows The last feeding memories of a dream after they have just woken up. And just like a dream, this knowledge and the intimate grasp of it, Took on a fuzzy quality.

“Well that was a show! I haven’t had a good show like that in years. Why, it’s just like riding a bicycle! Yucka Yucka!”

Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to reconcile the strangeness of what he'd just experienced with the memories of Junior - or was it Ralph - leaving his room? Everything was so blurred together recently with all the time he'd put into practising. He looked down at Mr. Clayton. "Junior seemed to like it. Did you have to hit him in the face, though?"

The Puppet opened his mouth as if he was about to say something in response, he waited for a second
“Was that Junior, or Ralph? And did you hear what he thought about?!”

Shawn scratched his head. "Umm...I know Junior was the one who came over, 'cause I remember him talking about dreams...but I remember Ralph leaving? What's going on?" He felt like he was losing touch with reality.

The Puppet’s Opened and closed. They open and closed. Silent gesture but impression of thinking. “Balaban Alturas tuna!” Mr. Clayton Shouted in a nonsensical voice.
“You just want all the pieces of the puzzle to fit together don’t you?!”

“Aren’t there parts of your day that don’t normally make sense? Do you always find your way to make sense most things most of the time?” Mr. Clayton’s tone was one of inquiry rather than interrogation. It was as if you genuinely wanted to know if Shawn made sense of most things.

Shawn wasn't really prepared for Mr. Clayton to get all philosophical, and it took him a bit to figure out what his answer might be. "I guess there's stuff I don't get...but there's always gotta be something behind it. If you don't know what's going on, you don't know what you're supposed to do. And if you don't know that, you can get in trouble." It was like when he did acting - even if you didn't understand the plot of the movie, there was a director who told you what he wanted from your acting. You had to know what was expected, and what everyone was working towards.

The time was coming to an end. Shawn didn't know how he knew this. But he did know. It was the way that Mr. Clayton sighed. He did a sort of yawn, but it wasn't something any audience would recognize. It was more of the fake mouth opening wide for a few seconds, Shawn's hand fitting now neatly inside the Puppet with that comfortable, snug feeling that was familiar.

.“But what if you did know? What if you knew that all you had to do was to trust something and that it would give you all of the answers that you needed? Would you listen to it?” Mr. Clayton asked with eager interest, though his energy was clearly fading.

Shawn somehow knew his time was limited. His time for what, he wasn’t quite sure, but he knew it nonetheless. “I’d listen...but if I understood more, maybe I could help better. Maybe I’ve got good ideas. No one knows everything, right?”

"That's right." The Puppet demurred, mouth opening slowly in what Shawn might have seen as a yawn.

.“It's not your fault. You need to be easier on yourself.” Mr. Clayton said, tone now soft and encouraging. "You need to just let all of the things that people want and the stuff that you want. Just let it all go. Anytime you feel like you want something or you feel like you need to do something. You just need to start by saying 'I give it all to Greater Ventriloquism.' "

"As we've seen, it makes for a great show. But switching things around like we did won't necessarily happen all of the time. I think we're just starting to scratch the surface."

Shawn had actually been hoping to bring up the switching around trick with Mr. Clayton, so they could discuss using it in future shows. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that trick. Now that I've seen how it looks, I don't think we need to actually switch for the show, right? I can do a pretty good job pretending, and it should work just as well." Seeing his own body move around outside of his control had really shaken him.

"That's right." Mr. Clayton said.

.“You don’t need to do anything. But if you don’t switch for the show, I’m not sure the kids will be happy. It’s not really the physical part of the switch or the laughter that I think they are into. It’s more of an experience. And like an experience it’s something you just kind of ‘feel, Not because it looks a certain way, but because it’s actually happening.’” Mr. Clayton said in a soft, tired voice.  And with that he let out a yawning sound."I don’t think they’ll ‘feel’ it. But we can do it your way if you want. It’s your path. A lot of the times think we can just set up shop after giving ourselves a little bit over to Greater Ventriloquism. But I’m not sure it really works that way. Greater Ventriloquism keeps calling to us until we respond “But do we really have to talk about this now? I am so tired. I just need to rest. It’s been such a long day. And you kept me up so long practicing for days and days and nights and nights. I’m just a puppet. I’m just a trifle. And you have seen how that is. Because just like me, you were just like me when Junior was here. Don’t you think so? Oh, You don’t need to answer that. Just think about it. OK? It’s just...I just don’t know how much longer I can talk. Lift me up and put me over into my case will you? Even a trifle like me… A nothing wooden, puppet like me...Needs to be put down.”."

Shawn listened as attentively as he could to Mr. Clayton, but he couldn't help but feel like the puppet was rambling. Maybe he'd understand it more later. At the very least, it sounded like he couldn't weasel his way out of the body switch if they ever did the show again. He got to his feet, feeling as exhausted as Mr. Clayton sounded, and headed for the case. At the very least, he'd be able to use both of his hands, if only for a little while.

It felt like a ramble and Shawn had no doubt of his own impressions, especially because big words were being used. As he placed Mr. Clayton into the Puppet's case, it was clear that Mr. Clayton had stopped talking.

The Puppet's limp body lay there, mouth open in a gaping, life-less smile.

Its eyes were staring upward at the ceiling, like it had never been talking, like Mr. Clayton was just a puppet. Or, as he often said, a trifle. A nothing.

Then, as if by magic, the eyes shut themselves. There was the click of the wood or enamel, or whatever those eyelids were made of. And just like that Mr. Clayton now looked like he was a puppet or toy with his eyes closed.

And just like that, Shawn was alone, left reflecting on the days...or had it been weeks?, of practice. Practice with the puppet. Practice with this new layer of his life.

Shawn was in the room alone.

Shawn sat down heavily on his bed, by himself for the first time in...a while, at least. He felt exhausted, but also a little relieved. He looked around his room - it stunk with neglect. He wanted to sleep, if only for a little bit, but he also knew he'd be bound to get into trouble for having a dirty room. He levered himself to his feet - he'd clean for a little bit, then he'd have a nap.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Composure + Stamina with the following results

0 Successes: Shawn collapses in exhaustion while trying to tidy up

1-3 Successes: Shawn gets the room somewhat clean, but then falls asleep

4+ Successes: Shawn musters enough inner will to clean the room completely, then he takes a nap as planned.

OOC: 00:44, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 6,2,1,7.  Composure + Stamina.

Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: Shawn!!!!