Our lives are filled with unanswerable questions. What is the passage between life and death? Can we travel it only one direction, or is it possible to pass through both ways? Is there anything in between, perhaps a tasteful foyer where you’re asked to take off your shoes?
These are the things I ask myself as I watch over my precious Laszlo. I am wholly committed to caring for him, now that the Great Allentown Fair has packed its bags and left town. Laszlo won’t say a word about how he came to be traveling with the Fair, so I can only guess how many times he’s been swallowed and pooped out by various carnie folk. Another one of life’s mysteries.
Today, I find myself in a cautiously optimistic mood. Laszlo St. James has seemingly found a second wind, darting around as if he were ten days younger. At the same time, he eats very little. Whenever I sprinkle fish food onto the water’s surface, he cowers at the bottom of his bowl until I leave. I don’t know what to make of this. Maybe I caught him at a bad time; today could be goldfish yom kippur. Yom kipper?
But when I see that dead look in his eyes, I worry that he has lost all hope for the future. So what is best for Laszlo? Bathed in the faint rays of the setting sun, he calls me over to his bowl.
“How are you feeling, Laszlo?”
“I’m hurting, Helen. But I’m starting to remember certain…things.”
“You’d better get some rest.”
“If I die, the others will find the treasure.”
“The treasure!? You have to tell me. Tell Helen.”
“I would–but the pain. Just a bit more morphine, please.”
“No, Laszlo. You’ll fall back asleep.”
“Just a few drops, and I’ll tell you everything, my love. I promise.”
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What should I do next? YOU DECIDE!
The Danopticon 