Chapter One: Chains & Other Reactionaries. My New York Felony.
A Sea of Splitting Her Peas


                         (Typing and muttering to himself)
                         I think it's import...ant (strike
                         strike strikes the keys) to add
                         that when Jason writes about
                         leaders and following a lead(er),
                         he is talking first and foremost
                         about the dictates of his own
                         conscience.  I am writing him after
                         all.  (Looks up at the catwalk to
                         see Meryl with her back to him,
                         curled up and napping.)  Also, when
                         he says his bit about 'like Adolf
                         before me' the first time, I think
                         he's right.  But the second time,
                         he might have said 'unlike Adolf
                         before me' and then continued about
                         the genuine places of yearning in
                         the heart.  Not that Adolf didn't
                         have genuine yearnings of the
                         heart.  I'm sure he did.  I never
                         knew him.  At least that I'll admit
                         to here.  What I'm not sure of is
                         how much of his own personal
                         yearnings, Mr. Adolf was aware. 
                         Again, who knows.  I know - because
                         I'm writing him and my affinity to
                         my own doppel is intimate enough to
                         know such things, especially here
                         in this place - that Jason is aware
                         of his own yearnings.  Becoming
                         aware.  Brutally conscious of the
                         damages one's own yearnings can
                         produce on their way to the
                         surface.  You could say Jason is
                         the villain of his own story.  I
                         want to say 'anti-hero' but that's
                         one of those been-there/done-that
                         situations.  Every protagonist is
                         an anti-hero these days.  (Stops
                         and looks up again.  Meryl makes a
                         sheepish wheezing sound). (Whispering)
                         She sounds like a sleeping Sesame
                         Street character.  Muppets in the
                         room, ya'all!  Muppet Meryl looooms.
                         (Back to typing)  Anyway, Jason is
                         not the leader of killer soldiers
                         and he never signed marching
                         orders to his minions, requiring
                         the slaughter of millions with a
                         wave of his signature.  He never
                         roused masses to shout in
                         adoration as he raised his hand to
                         the flag.  In these ways he is
                         'unlike' Adolf before him.  I
                         I suppose he worries about being a
                         bad influence.  Fears the damage
                         he could do to others if he were to
                         actually try at life.  That's
                         really my addendum here.  'Oh, by
                         the way,' Jason might write.  'I'm
                         not a serial killer.  But only barely.'


                         I thought you were napping.

                         Yeah, well who can nap with all
                         that water rising from your
                         ridiculous blather.  Serial killers
                         and roused army masses.  Serious
                         unfiltered idiot on the march right
                         down below me, people.  Serious.
                         You're a liar and a thief, Edmund
                         Strasse.  Now... and 'really try' at
                         life?  Oh my stars and stripes I
                         nearly rained down undigested egg
                         on you when I heard that.  What you
                         could do is 'really try' to shut up
                         now and let me sleep.