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.