| MYSTERIO AND GALATEA by Michael A. Kechula (WARNING: Mature Themes!) |
“I just got the results of the chemical analysis,” Rolf said to the doll lying on the
bed in silk, custom-made pajamas. “It says the composition of the scrapings I took
from your heel consist of unknown elements. They want to know the source of the
scrapings. Naturally, I’m not gonna tell them. So, my Dear, who the hell are you?
Where do you come from? Why are you here? How come you just happened to
show up that day when I was walking in the woods?”
The doll’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
“Dammit, Galatea, why don’t you answer?” He caught himself. Here I go again.
Talking to her as if she were real.
After a stiff drink, he carried the doll to the living room and sat it on top of his
grand piano.
Damn she’s gorgeous. I’m glad I had the tailor make the pajamas a size too small.
Makes her nipples strain against the material. They remind me so much of my ex-
wife’s.
Running his palm down the doll’s cheek, he said, “By the way, the card and box of
candy on the piano are for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He waited for a response, then caught himself. “I keep forgetting you’re not real.
But that may not be forever. Meanwhile, let’s get down to business. Let’s do the
Judy Garland medley one more time. I want our performance tonight at the
Cosmos Club absolutely perfect. This being Valentine’s Day, the audience should be
in a very sentimental mood. Let’s use it to our best advantage. When you do You
Made Me Love You, I want women weeping, and men squirming in their seats. And
when you do Over the Rainbow, I want you to tear their hearts out.”
The doll stared straight ahead.
“By the way, Margaret Carter, who owns the town’s biggest bank, will be at
tonight's show. She has an authentic pair of the ruby slippers Judy Garland wore in
The Wizard of Oz. She wants to come to our dressing room and try the slippers on
you. If they fit, she wants you to wear them during the medley. I figure it’ll be a
showstopper. Plus, she’ll get a big charge out of it, and who knows where that
might lead.”
As he played the introduction to You Made Me Love You, his mind drifted back to
when he spotted a hand jutting from the soil that day in the woods.
bed in silk, custom-made pajamas. “It says the composition of the scrapings I took
from your heel consist of unknown elements. They want to know the source of the
scrapings. Naturally, I’m not gonna tell them. So, my Dear, who the hell are you?
Where do you come from? Why are you here? How come you just happened to
show up that day when I was walking in the woods?”
The doll’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
“Dammit, Galatea, why don’t you answer?” He caught himself. Here I go again.
Talking to her as if she were real.
After a stiff drink, he carried the doll to the living room and sat it on top of his
grand piano.
Damn she’s gorgeous. I’m glad I had the tailor make the pajamas a size too small.
Makes her nipples strain against the material. They remind me so much of my ex-
wife’s.
Running his palm down the doll’s cheek, he said, “By the way, the card and box of
candy on the piano are for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He waited for a response, then caught himself. “I keep forgetting you’re not real.
But that may not be forever. Meanwhile, let’s get down to business. Let’s do the
Judy Garland medley one more time. I want our performance tonight at the
Cosmos Club absolutely perfect. This being Valentine’s Day, the audience should be
in a very sentimental mood. Let’s use it to our best advantage. When you do You
Made Me Love You, I want women weeping, and men squirming in their seats. And
when you do Over the Rainbow, I want you to tear their hearts out.”
The doll stared straight ahead.
“By the way, Margaret Carter, who owns the town’s biggest bank, will be at
tonight's show. She has an authentic pair of the ruby slippers Judy Garland wore in
The Wizard of Oz. She wants to come to our dressing room and try the slippers on
you. If they fit, she wants you to wear them during the medley. I figure it’ll be a
showstopper. Plus, she’ll get a big charge out of it, and who knows where that
might lead.”
As he played the introduction to You Made Me Love You, his mind drifted back to
when he spotted a hand jutting from the soil that day in the woods.
At first, he thought the hand was attached to
a dead body. His digging revealed a life-size
doll, lying in a fetal position. It looked so
extraordinary, Rolf took it home for closer
scrutiny.
He decided to clean the doll and wash it’s
tattered clothes. If it turned out to be in good
enough shape, maybe he’d offer it to his
eight-year-old niece.
When he laid it on the bathroom floor and
a dead body. His digging revealed a life-size
doll, lying in a fetal position. It looked so
extraordinary, Rolf took it home for closer
scrutiny.
He decided to clean the doll and wash it’s
tattered clothes. If it turned out to be in good
enough shape, maybe he’d offer it to his
eight-year-old niece.
When he laid it on the bathroom floor and
slipped off its ragged sweater, he was stunned to discover perfectly shaped,
nippled breasts. Even more amazing was the thick patch of pubic hair beneath the
doll’s shorts. A quick touch proved the texture was authentic. He spread its legs.
Somebody had manufactured the doll with an anatomically correct vulva. He
suppressed an urge to probe more deeply.
Filling the bathtub, he immersed the doll in warm, soapy water. It was a chore
scrubbing the gunk caked on its face, but when he finished he let out a whistle. The
doll had the most exquisite face he’d ever seen.
As he continued scrubbing, he found himself slowing down when reaching its
breasts. This is stupid. I’m acting as if she were a real woman.
Rolf chuckled at his ridiculous feelings of modesty and washed her breasts
vigorously.
He scrubbed its stomach and abdomen, using lots of elbow grease. But he found
himself pausing again when he was about to reach lower. Throwing soap and the
cloth into the tub, he said, “Wash down there, yourself.”
He turned away and waited.
After a few moments, he chuckled over his stupidity. What the hell’s wrong with
me? I’m acting like I’m invading a woman’s private parts. She’s nothing but a
damn, unfeeling, inanimate doll. I shouldn’t hafta think twice about touching her
anywhere.
That’s when he realized he’d used the word her. He was attributing to the doll that
which it could never be: a flesh-and-blood woman with life, emotions, soul.
Nevertheless, from that moment forward, he said her whenever thinking and
referring to his doll.
Grabbing a bottle of vodka, he tossed down a double, went back to the bathroom,
spread the doll’s legs, and scoured every nook and cranny.
As he dried her soft, flexible body, he scrutinized her fabulously constructed legs,
tight butt, six-pack abs. Everything about her was perfect. He figured if she were a
real woman, men would kill for her favors.
Draping a sheet around her, he carried the doll to the living room and set her in an
armchair.
His dog seemed to approach her with reverence. When the dog’s mouth reached
up to her hand, he gave it a gentle kiss instead of a sloppy lathering.
“You’re amazing,” Rolf said. “Now you’re charming the hell outta my dog.”
He made a fire, went to the piano and played Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Looking at the freshly scrubbed, scrumptious-looking doll made him play sweeter.
They looked like an ordinary family, spending a quiet evening by the fireplace. Rolf
played the piano softly and with infinite tenderness. His dog rested on the floor
next to an easy chair. And in that chair, wrapped in a sheet, looking like a Greek
goddess, was the most exquisite representation of a woman he’d ever seen.
nippled breasts. Even more amazing was the thick patch of pubic hair beneath the
doll’s shorts. A quick touch proved the texture was authentic. He spread its legs.
Somebody had manufactured the doll with an anatomically correct vulva. He
suppressed an urge to probe more deeply.
Filling the bathtub, he immersed the doll in warm, soapy water. It was a chore
scrubbing the gunk caked on its face, but when he finished he let out a whistle. The
doll had the most exquisite face he’d ever seen.
As he continued scrubbing, he found himself slowing down when reaching its
breasts. This is stupid. I’m acting as if she were a real woman.
Rolf chuckled at his ridiculous feelings of modesty and washed her breasts
vigorously.
He scrubbed its stomach and abdomen, using lots of elbow grease. But he found
himself pausing again when he was about to reach lower. Throwing soap and the
cloth into the tub, he said, “Wash down there, yourself.”
He turned away and waited.
After a few moments, he chuckled over his stupidity. What the hell’s wrong with
me? I’m acting like I’m invading a woman’s private parts. She’s nothing but a
damn, unfeeling, inanimate doll. I shouldn’t hafta think twice about touching her
anywhere.
That’s when he realized he’d used the word her. He was attributing to the doll that
which it could never be: a flesh-and-blood woman with life, emotions, soul.
Nevertheless, from that moment forward, he said her whenever thinking and
referring to his doll.
Grabbing a bottle of vodka, he tossed down a double, went back to the bathroom,
spread the doll’s legs, and scoured every nook and cranny.
As he dried her soft, flexible body, he scrutinized her fabulously constructed legs,
tight butt, six-pack abs. Everything about her was perfect. He figured if she were a
real woman, men would kill for her favors.
Draping a sheet around her, he carried the doll to the living room and set her in an
armchair.
His dog seemed to approach her with reverence. When the dog’s mouth reached
up to her hand, he gave it a gentle kiss instead of a sloppy lathering.
“You’re amazing,” Rolf said. “Now you’re charming the hell outta my dog.”
He made a fire, went to the piano and played Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Looking at the freshly scrubbed, scrumptious-looking doll made him play sweeter.
They looked like an ordinary family, spending a quiet evening by the fireplace. Rolf
played the piano softly and with infinite tenderness. His dog rested on the floor
next to an easy chair. And in that chair, wrapped in a sheet, looking like a Greek
goddess, was the most exquisite representation of a woman he’d ever seen.
Half way through the sonata, he heard a faint,
ethereal voice drifting in and out with the
evening breezes. As the song progressed, the
voice accompanying him slowly increased in
volume. Whoever was humming must’ve heard
his passionate rendition of Beethoven, and felt
moved to join in. Curious, Rolf went to a window
and peered outside to see who owned the
remarkable voice. Nobody was there.
He repeated the sonata and waited until the
humming grew loud enough to pinpoint the
source. He nearly jumped out of his skin when
he realized the sound came from the doll’s
direction.
ethereal voice drifting in and out with the
evening breezes. As the song progressed, the
voice accompanying him slowly increased in
volume. Whoever was humming must’ve heard
his passionate rendition of Beethoven, and felt
moved to join in. Curious, Rolf went to a window
and peered outside to see who owned the
remarkable voice. Nobody was there.
He repeated the sonata and waited until the
humming grew loud enough to pinpoint the
source. He nearly jumped out of his skin when
he realized the sound came from the doll’s
direction.
Rolf went to the doll and put his ear against her lips. Nothing. He hummed to see if
she’d follow along. Still nothing.
He thought about calling his psychiatrist to make an appointment sooner than the
one already scheduled. He’d learned enough about himself through a year’s worth
of therapy to recognize when his behavior was becoming irrational. It wasn’t
normal to hesitate when washing a doll’s body, treating it as if she were real. Nor
was it rational to hear a voice coming from her when playing Beethoven. That was
wild fantasy, the very thing that’d abetted his nervous breakdown a year ago.
He decided he was merely overtired and over-stimulated by the day’s strange
events. Chuckling at his stupidity, Rolf put the dog out and headed for bed.
Lying in bed, he thought of his breakdown and the terrible emotional suffering it’d
caused. But he was well past the worst, and he’d made good progress. His doctor
had succeeded in pulling him out of deeply entrenched depression that
overwhelmed him when his wife ran off with a younger man.
After intense therapy, his doctor had assured he’d soon feel vital enough to
compose country music once again. A string of hits brought affluence. But the
music world doesn’t stand still for long, and if he was to retain his edge and
earning power, he’d soon have to write new songs.
Everything seemed better after a good night’s sleep. Following a hearty breakfast,
Rolf checked the dog and the doll. The dog was chasing birds in the yard. The doll
was in the same place he’d left her. Everything was normal.
He headed for the piano to do finger exercises. The moment he played, the
humming voice started up again. When he stopped, the voice stopped. When he
resumed, so did the humming. What surprised him most was its ability to keep up
with every note, while his fingers raced on the keyboard.
This time, he decided to continue without interruption to see just how loud the
voice would get. Soon, the house was filled with glorious, enthralling humming that
seemed to come from the doll’s direction.
It can’t possibly be the doll. How could she know what note comes next? What the
hell’s going on here? Do I have a poltergeist? Is the doll possessed? Am I hearing
things? Am I having a relapse of my nervous breakdown? Oh God, not that.
Anything but that.
Rolf put the doll in a spare bedroom at the other end of the house, then resumed
his finger exercises. Soon he heard loud humming coming from the bedroom.
That's it! I’m taking her back where I found her. My nerves can’t take this.
she’d follow along. Still nothing.
He thought about calling his psychiatrist to make an appointment sooner than the
one already scheduled. He’d learned enough about himself through a year’s worth
of therapy to recognize when his behavior was becoming irrational. It wasn’t
normal to hesitate when washing a doll’s body, treating it as if she were real. Nor
was it rational to hear a voice coming from her when playing Beethoven. That was
wild fantasy, the very thing that’d abetted his nervous breakdown a year ago.
He decided he was merely overtired and over-stimulated by the day’s strange
events. Chuckling at his stupidity, Rolf put the dog out and headed for bed.
Lying in bed, he thought of his breakdown and the terrible emotional suffering it’d
caused. But he was well past the worst, and he’d made good progress. His doctor
had succeeded in pulling him out of deeply entrenched depression that
overwhelmed him when his wife ran off with a younger man.
After intense therapy, his doctor had assured he’d soon feel vital enough to
compose country music once again. A string of hits brought affluence. But the
music world doesn’t stand still for long, and if he was to retain his edge and
earning power, he’d soon have to write new songs.
Everything seemed better after a good night’s sleep. Following a hearty breakfast,
Rolf checked the dog and the doll. The dog was chasing birds in the yard. The doll
was in the same place he’d left her. Everything was normal.
He headed for the piano to do finger exercises. The moment he played, the
humming voice started up again. When he stopped, the voice stopped. When he
resumed, so did the humming. What surprised him most was its ability to keep up
with every note, while his fingers raced on the keyboard.
This time, he decided to continue without interruption to see just how loud the
voice would get. Soon, the house was filled with glorious, enthralling humming that
seemed to come from the doll’s direction.
It can’t possibly be the doll. How could she know what note comes next? What the
hell’s going on here? Do I have a poltergeist? Is the doll possessed? Am I hearing
things? Am I having a relapse of my nervous breakdown? Oh God, not that.
Anything but that.
Rolf put the doll in a spare bedroom at the other end of the house, then resumed
his finger exercises. Soon he heard loud humming coming from the bedroom.
That's it! I’m taking her back where I found her. My nerves can’t take this.
When a tranquilizer soothed his jitters, Rolf
was struck with an idea. If she can hum my
finger exercises, I wonder if she can hum a
song?
As he played I Could Have Danced All Night,
the doll’s humming made the song sound
even more lively and delightful.
This can’t be something evil. It sounds so
vibrant, so cheerful. Something possessed
was struck with an idea. If she can hum my
finger exercises, I wonder if she can hum a
song?
As he played I Could Have Danced All Night,
the doll’s humming made the song sound
even more lively and delightful.
This can’t be something evil. It sounds so
vibrant, so cheerful. Something possessed
wouldn’t hum so beautifully. If anything, she’d hum off-key and make me pound
the keyboard. Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe she’s a gift.
Something sent from God for my being a good husband, and for suffering the
injustice of my wife’s desertion. Maybe there’s a way to capitalize on the doll’s
wonderful voice.
Rolf decided to create a theatrical act. He would dress the doll in beautiful gowns,
sit her on top of a grand piano, and let her hum to her heart’s content. As a cover
for what was actually happening, he could call it a magic act. Instead of making
rabbits appear from nowhere, he’d make a lifeless doll appear to hum with no
human assistance. Audiences would think he was a master magician. Perhaps he
and the doll would become the most unique man-doll act ever to appear on stage.
Sitting her on top of the piano, he tested his idea. He played a bit of everything
from Chopin’s classics to Willie Nelson’s country tunes. She hummed everything
flawlessly.
“Well, my beauty, if you were real, I’d kiss your hand. You’ve just become my
ticket to a brand new career. I’m going to dress you like a princess. I’ll buy you
dazzling faux jewels to grace your lovely fingers, wrists, and pretty neck. I’m going
to make you a star!”
After her custom made gowns and jewels arrived, they had their first dress
rehearsal. Slipping a black gown over her shoulders, Rolf paused a few moments
to gently touch them. They seemed so soft, pliable, and real, he almost kissed
them. Damn! I’m spending too much time with a doll instead of real women. But
real women can be dangerous. They have wants and needs. They might leave me
at the drop of a hat. I don’t think I could stand to have a woman walk out on me
ever again.
He slipped her jewelry on. Next, he lowered the lid on his grand piano, put her on
top, and adjusted her posture so that she’d look even more alluring. He raised the
bottom of her gown to display just enough of her legs to make men fidget.
After some fine adjustments, he stepped back to gaze at his starlet. Her coiffed red
hair, green eyes, creamy skin were so beautiful, Rolf found himself running to her
and kissing her cheek.
He noticed the more he doted on the doll, the more thoughts about his ex wife and
how she’d devastated him slid away. The doll was damn good medicine. Far better
than his psychiatrist’s prescriptions.
“You need a name,” he said, gazing into her large, enchanting eyes. He mentioned
a few that popped into his head, but none seemed satisfactory. “C’mon, let’s do
some brainstorming.”
Instantly, Galatea came to mind. “Good going! It’s perfect.”
Rolf set her back on the piano and went to the keyboard. “OK. Let’s start with
something simple: Some Enchanted Evening. Then we’ll do I’m Always Chasing
Rainbows."
The moment she began to hum, he knew they were going to be a big hit. He
phoned an acquaintance who was a theatrical agent.
“Fred, this is Rolf. I developed a new magic act you really must see.”
“Everybody likes magic acts,” the agent said. “But to sell seats these days, you
gotta have something really different.”
“My act’s dynamite. It’s part magic, ventriloquism, and music. I use a beautiful,
life-sized doll to accompany me by humming while I play a wide range of musical
works. We can do Broadway tunes, light classics, opera, ethnic pieces, country and
western, and jazz."
Rolf explained how nobody would ever discover how he managed to make the doll
hum so loudly and beautifully. Both his hands would be occupied on the keyboard
at all times, so he wouldn’t be manipulating the doll like other ventriloquists. Plus
he’d throw his voice to make it sound like a real women. In fact, as the song
progressed, he could make the doll sound as if a dozen women were singing
simultaneously.
“How do you make the doll hum?” Fred asked.
“Magic. How else?”
Rolf and Galatea auditioned the next day. The agent loved the act. Before long,
they were booked into small clubs. Billed as Mysterio and Galatea, they were a
huge hit. As they quickly moved up to bigger showrooms, many said they’d end up
in New York City’s Carnegie Hall in no time.
Rolf’s mind snapped back to the present when Galatea finished humming Over the
Rainbow.
“That’s wonderful, Galatea. Do it like that tonight at the Cosmos Club and you’ll
tear their hearts out. With your voice, the ruby slippers, and that song, they’ll
remember your performance forever. We’re heading for the top! I feel it in my
bones.”
Rolf checked his watch. “We have seven hours before show time. I’m gonna take a
nap. I suggest you do the same. This way, we can both be at our best for tonight’s
show.”
He carried Galatea to her bedroom, removed all her clothes and laid her on the
bed. He found himself drawing little circles on her stomach with his fingertips. “Do
you like that?” he asked. Then he moved his lips toward her stomach.
Something stopped him at the last moment. Realizing what he’d almost done, he
hurried from the room, shaking. He grabbed the phone to make an appointment
with his psychiatrist. While tapping the numbers, he wondered how he’d work up
enough nerve to explain his powerful attraction to a doll.
the keyboard. Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe she’s a gift.
Something sent from God for my being a good husband, and for suffering the
injustice of my wife’s desertion. Maybe there’s a way to capitalize on the doll’s
wonderful voice.
Rolf decided to create a theatrical act. He would dress the doll in beautiful gowns,
sit her on top of a grand piano, and let her hum to her heart’s content. As a cover
for what was actually happening, he could call it a magic act. Instead of making
rabbits appear from nowhere, he’d make a lifeless doll appear to hum with no
human assistance. Audiences would think he was a master magician. Perhaps he
and the doll would become the most unique man-doll act ever to appear on stage.
Sitting her on top of the piano, he tested his idea. He played a bit of everything
from Chopin’s classics to Willie Nelson’s country tunes. She hummed everything
flawlessly.
“Well, my beauty, if you were real, I’d kiss your hand. You’ve just become my
ticket to a brand new career. I’m going to dress you like a princess. I’ll buy you
dazzling faux jewels to grace your lovely fingers, wrists, and pretty neck. I’m going
to make you a star!”
After her custom made gowns and jewels arrived, they had their first dress
rehearsal. Slipping a black gown over her shoulders, Rolf paused a few moments
to gently touch them. They seemed so soft, pliable, and real, he almost kissed
them. Damn! I’m spending too much time with a doll instead of real women. But
real women can be dangerous. They have wants and needs. They might leave me
at the drop of a hat. I don’t think I could stand to have a woman walk out on me
ever again.
He slipped her jewelry on. Next, he lowered the lid on his grand piano, put her on
top, and adjusted her posture so that she’d look even more alluring. He raised the
bottom of her gown to display just enough of her legs to make men fidget.
After some fine adjustments, he stepped back to gaze at his starlet. Her coiffed red
hair, green eyes, creamy skin were so beautiful, Rolf found himself running to her
and kissing her cheek.
He noticed the more he doted on the doll, the more thoughts about his ex wife and
how she’d devastated him slid away. The doll was damn good medicine. Far better
than his psychiatrist’s prescriptions.
“You need a name,” he said, gazing into her large, enchanting eyes. He mentioned
a few that popped into his head, but none seemed satisfactory. “C’mon, let’s do
some brainstorming.”
Instantly, Galatea came to mind. “Good going! It’s perfect.”
Rolf set her back on the piano and went to the keyboard. “OK. Let’s start with
something simple: Some Enchanted Evening. Then we’ll do I’m Always Chasing
Rainbows."
The moment she began to hum, he knew they were going to be a big hit. He
phoned an acquaintance who was a theatrical agent.
“Fred, this is Rolf. I developed a new magic act you really must see.”
“Everybody likes magic acts,” the agent said. “But to sell seats these days, you
gotta have something really different.”
“My act’s dynamite. It’s part magic, ventriloquism, and music. I use a beautiful,
life-sized doll to accompany me by humming while I play a wide range of musical
works. We can do Broadway tunes, light classics, opera, ethnic pieces, country and
western, and jazz."
Rolf explained how nobody would ever discover how he managed to make the doll
hum so loudly and beautifully. Both his hands would be occupied on the keyboard
at all times, so he wouldn’t be manipulating the doll like other ventriloquists. Plus
he’d throw his voice to make it sound like a real women. In fact, as the song
progressed, he could make the doll sound as if a dozen women were singing
simultaneously.
“How do you make the doll hum?” Fred asked.
“Magic. How else?”
Rolf and Galatea auditioned the next day. The agent loved the act. Before long,
they were booked into small clubs. Billed as Mysterio and Galatea, they were a
huge hit. As they quickly moved up to bigger showrooms, many said they’d end up
in New York City’s Carnegie Hall in no time.
Rolf’s mind snapped back to the present when Galatea finished humming Over the
Rainbow.
“That’s wonderful, Galatea. Do it like that tonight at the Cosmos Club and you’ll
tear their hearts out. With your voice, the ruby slippers, and that song, they’ll
remember your performance forever. We’re heading for the top! I feel it in my
bones.”
Rolf checked his watch. “We have seven hours before show time. I’m gonna take a
nap. I suggest you do the same. This way, we can both be at our best for tonight’s
show.”
He carried Galatea to her bedroom, removed all her clothes and laid her on the
bed. He found himself drawing little circles on her stomach with his fingertips. “Do
you like that?” he asked. Then he moved his lips toward her stomach.
Something stopped him at the last moment. Realizing what he’d almost done, he
hurried from the room, shaking. He grabbed the phone to make an appointment
with his psychiatrist. While tapping the numbers, he wondered how he’d work up
enough nerve to explain his powerful attraction to a doll.
On the second ring, he hung up. There was an easier
way to drive her from his mind. All he had to do was
hire a professional woman. Someone made of real flesh
who’d wring every drop of desire from his tortured
psyche. But the idea gave him a tinge of guilt. Galatea
would never approve.
Falling asleep, he dreamed of Galatea. Her beauty. Her
softness. Suddenly, she was upon him, tender, then like
an insane, wild beast. His release was so powerful, he
found himself sitting straight up in bed, panting and
sweating.
After showering, he went to her room and peeked
way to drive her from his mind. All he had to do was
hire a professional woman. Someone made of real flesh
who’d wring every drop of desire from his tortured
psyche. But the idea gave him a tinge of guilt. Galatea
would never approve.
Falling asleep, he dreamed of Galatea. Her beauty. Her
softness. Suddenly, she was upon him, tender, then like
an insane, wild beast. His release was so powerful, he
found himself sitting straight up in bed, panting and
sweating.
After showering, he went to her room and peeked
inside. She looked different, somehow. The word afterglow popped into his mind.
While driving to the Cosmos Club, he said, “I’m not sure what’s happening. You
know I have certain feelings for you. It isn’t right. But I had this wonderful dream
about you. And I can’t help wanting more. Come back tonight while I’m sleeping. I
want to feel that again.”
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Dammit! I gotta get hold of
myself. You’re nothing but a doll.”
Rolf was slipping a designer gown over Galatea in the Cosmos dressing room when
Margaret Carter showed up with the ruby slippers.
“Oh, she’s even more magnificent up close.” Carter said. “How tall is she?”
“Exactly five feet four inches,” Rolf said.
“Where did you acquire her?”
“Switzerland.” That was a huge lie, but he wasn’t about to tell how he found
Galatea buried in the woods.
“You must call and give me the name of the doll maker in Switzerland. Do you
suppose they have anymore like this?”
“They said Galatea was one-of-a-kind.”
“If you ever want to sell her, let me know. She’d make a wonderful addition to my
collection of unusual creations. I’d make it well worth your while. You’d be able to
retire immediately with a smile that’d last for the rest of your days.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Go ahead and try the slippers. It’s almost show time.”
The moment she touched Galatea’s feet, Carter shuddered. In a voice not her own,
she said, “This doll is infused with an ancient spirit. I can feel it. Listen. She’s
calling to us. Can you hear?”
“Mrs. Carter, beside you, the only thing I can hear is my radio. Please try the
slippers. It’s almost show time.”
“But she’s calling to us.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter, but I’m in such a hurry. The audience is waiting. Perhaps
you can return after the show and spend some time with Galatea.”
“I’d prefer you bring her to my home. I have a room that’s most auspicious for
conducting séances. I’d like you both to attend tonight at midnight as my guests.”
Rolf wondered about Carter’s sanity, especially when she said to Galatea, “We’ll
talk later, my Dear.” Seconds later, she exclaimed, “The shoes fit perfectly! Oh
how wonderful!”
Rolf told Carter he’d dedicate the Garland medley to her, and that he’d tell the
audience she’d provided the ruby slippers.
Calling to Galatea, she left. “We’ll hold a séance tonight. Then you can speak to us.
I know you want that.”
The audience applauded as Rolf carried Galatea onstage and sat her on top of the
piano. When the spotlight struck the ruby slippers, the audience gasped with
delight. Rolf told them the slippers had been graciously provided by Margaret
Carter and gave a few plugs for her bank and wonderful generosity.
Carter rose to acknowledge the warm applause.
The room fell silent as the lights lowered. Galatea was in the center of the
spotlight. Rolf began to play You Made Me Love You, a song Judy Garland sang to
Clark Gable on his birthday, back in the 1930s.
The ruby slippers sparkled so brilliantly, the walls and ceiling were filled with flecks
of red light.
The audience was so moved by Galatea’s humming that they applauded
thunderously halfway through the song. Shouts of “Bravo” filled the room. A
shower of roses rained onto the stage. Rolf could have sworn Galatea smiled.
While the audience gave them a standing ovation, the club owner motioned to Rolf
to join him offstage in the wings.
“People are saying your doll’s moving,” the owner said. "A few are frightened.”
“It’s just an illusion,” Rolf said. “It comes from staring at her too long.”
“That’s not all. Some said they see Munchkins with distorted faces skipping around
the piano.”
“Good grief! What’ll they see next? A wicked witch?”
While driving to the Cosmos Club, he said, “I’m not sure what’s happening. You
know I have certain feelings for you. It isn’t right. But I had this wonderful dream
about you. And I can’t help wanting more. Come back tonight while I’m sleeping. I
want to feel that again.”
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Dammit! I gotta get hold of
myself. You’re nothing but a doll.”
Rolf was slipping a designer gown over Galatea in the Cosmos dressing room when
Margaret Carter showed up with the ruby slippers.
“Oh, she’s even more magnificent up close.” Carter said. “How tall is she?”
“Exactly five feet four inches,” Rolf said.
“Where did you acquire her?”
“Switzerland.” That was a huge lie, but he wasn’t about to tell how he found
Galatea buried in the woods.
“You must call and give me the name of the doll maker in Switzerland. Do you
suppose they have anymore like this?”
“They said Galatea was one-of-a-kind.”
“If you ever want to sell her, let me know. She’d make a wonderful addition to my
collection of unusual creations. I’d make it well worth your while. You’d be able to
retire immediately with a smile that’d last for the rest of your days.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Go ahead and try the slippers. It’s almost show time.”
The moment she touched Galatea’s feet, Carter shuddered. In a voice not her own,
she said, “This doll is infused with an ancient spirit. I can feel it. Listen. She’s
calling to us. Can you hear?”
“Mrs. Carter, beside you, the only thing I can hear is my radio. Please try the
slippers. It’s almost show time.”
“But she’s calling to us.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter, but I’m in such a hurry. The audience is waiting. Perhaps
you can return after the show and spend some time with Galatea.”
“I’d prefer you bring her to my home. I have a room that’s most auspicious for
conducting séances. I’d like you both to attend tonight at midnight as my guests.”
Rolf wondered about Carter’s sanity, especially when she said to Galatea, “We’ll
talk later, my Dear.” Seconds later, she exclaimed, “The shoes fit perfectly! Oh
how wonderful!”
Rolf told Carter he’d dedicate the Garland medley to her, and that he’d tell the
audience she’d provided the ruby slippers.
Calling to Galatea, she left. “We’ll hold a séance tonight. Then you can speak to us.
I know you want that.”
The audience applauded as Rolf carried Galatea onstage and sat her on top of the
piano. When the spotlight struck the ruby slippers, the audience gasped with
delight. Rolf told them the slippers had been graciously provided by Margaret
Carter and gave a few plugs for her bank and wonderful generosity.
Carter rose to acknowledge the warm applause.
The room fell silent as the lights lowered. Galatea was in the center of the
spotlight. Rolf began to play You Made Me Love You, a song Judy Garland sang to
Clark Gable on his birthday, back in the 1930s.
The ruby slippers sparkled so brilliantly, the walls and ceiling were filled with flecks
of red light.
The audience was so moved by Galatea’s humming that they applauded
thunderously halfway through the song. Shouts of “Bravo” filled the room. A
shower of roses rained onto the stage. Rolf could have sworn Galatea smiled.
While the audience gave them a standing ovation, the club owner motioned to Rolf
to join him offstage in the wings.
“People are saying your doll’s moving,” the owner said. "A few are frightened.”
“It’s just an illusion,” Rolf said. “It comes from staring at her too long.”
“That’s not all. Some said they see Munchkins with distorted faces skipping around
the piano.”
“Good grief! What’ll they see next? A wicked witch?”
“When you deal with the public anything can happen.
Especially in a place like this where we serve drinks. Look, I
don’t want anybody getting too scared. This is supposed to be
nice, uplifting entertainment, not a show from the Twilight
Zone. The last thing I need is bad press. On the other hand, a
touch of mystique may be good for business. The stagehands
said word is spreading about the doll’s performance.
Hundreds are gathering outside, hoping to hear your doll. We
might end up doing an extra show. If so, I’ll make it worth
your while.”
Especially in a place like this where we serve drinks. Look, I
don’t want anybody getting too scared. This is supposed to be
nice, uplifting entertainment, not a show from the Twilight
Zone. The last thing I need is bad press. On the other hand, a
touch of mystique may be good for business. The stagehands
said word is spreading about the doll’s performance.
Hundreds are gathering outside, hoping to hear your doll. We
might end up doing an extra show. If so, I’ll make it worth
your while.”
As the applause died down, Rolf patted Galatea’s head, saying, “Ladies and
Gentlemen…the true star of tonight’s performance. Isn’t she magnificent?”
More applause and cheers.
Leaning toward Galatea, as if to make a small adjustment to her gown, he said,
“This is the big one—the one that’ll make our future. Give it all you have. Make it
exquisite. I want you to tear their hearts out. Do it for me. I swear on my mother’
s grave, I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to find somebody who can bring you to life.”
A soft, ethereal voice whispered, “I will, my Love.”
My imagination’s acting up again, he thought. Facing the audience, he said, “And
now we’ll perform one of the most fabulous songs ever written for the
movies…Over The Rainbow.”
As Galatea hummed the melody softly, Rolf imagined eyes misting over the
nostalgia of lost youth, and better and simpler days.
Those who witnessed the performance still talk about it as one of the high points of
their theatre-going lives. Some swear they saw Toto racing around the stage.
Others saw tin men, ersatz lions, dancing scarecrows.
Galatea was in perfect form. Women wept, men sniffled.
Rolf was ecstatic. There’s no stopping us now.
The tumult following the song was beyond description. The crowd yelled Galatea’s
name and “Encore.” Some moved toward the stage with flowers.
A drunk jumped onto the stage, and with outstretched arms raced toward Galatea.
He grabbed the doll and hugged her before Rolf could stop him.
Galatea’s hands flew out and slammed the offender’s chest. He fell to the floor. In
a flash, Galatea was on top of him, tearing at his chest. The man screamed
horribly as the doll tore his heart out. Smiling, the doll offered it to Rolf, as if
presenting a precious gift. Rolf fainted.
Gentlemen…the true star of tonight’s performance. Isn’t she magnificent?”
More applause and cheers.
Leaning toward Galatea, as if to make a small adjustment to her gown, he said,
“This is the big one—the one that’ll make our future. Give it all you have. Make it
exquisite. I want you to tear their hearts out. Do it for me. I swear on my mother’
s grave, I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to find somebody who can bring you to life.”
A soft, ethereal voice whispered, “I will, my Love.”
My imagination’s acting up again, he thought. Facing the audience, he said, “And
now we’ll perform one of the most fabulous songs ever written for the
movies…Over The Rainbow.”
As Galatea hummed the melody softly, Rolf imagined eyes misting over the
nostalgia of lost youth, and better and simpler days.
Those who witnessed the performance still talk about it as one of the high points of
their theatre-going lives. Some swear they saw Toto racing around the stage.
Others saw tin men, ersatz lions, dancing scarecrows.
Galatea was in perfect form. Women wept, men sniffled.
Rolf was ecstatic. There’s no stopping us now.
The tumult following the song was beyond description. The crowd yelled Galatea’s
name and “Encore.” Some moved toward the stage with flowers.
A drunk jumped onto the stage, and with outstretched arms raced toward Galatea.
He grabbed the doll and hugged her before Rolf could stop him.
Galatea’s hands flew out and slammed the offender’s chest. He fell to the floor. In
a flash, Galatea was on top of him, tearing at his chest. The man screamed
horribly as the doll tore his heart out. Smiling, the doll offered it to Rolf, as if
presenting a precious gift. Rolf fainted.
Seconds later, Galatea attacked the club owner.
Though Rolf was lying on the floor unconscious,
Galatea gently laid both hearts near his body. Then
she flung herself from the stage into the panicked
audience.
By the time a SWAT team arrived, dozens were
dead.
Though Rolf was lying on the floor unconscious,
Galatea gently laid both hearts near his body. Then
she flung herself from the stage into the panicked
audience.
By the time a SWAT team arrived, dozens were
dead.
The police found blood-soaked Galatea on the stage floor snuggled against Rolf’s
unconscious body. Both were surrounded by the outline of a Valentine heart that
Galatea had formed from dozens of human hearts.
Nobody was crazy enough to try to prosecute a doll. That didn’t stop a grand jury
from seeking ways to indict Rolf, especially when they discovered one of the hearts
belonged to Mrs. Carter. Somebody had to pay for murdering a pillar of the
community. However, nobody could figure what laws Rolf had violated by playing
a piano.
Several hurricanes, a disastrous earthquake, a tsunami, pandemic flu, and three
horrendous terrorist attacks caused so much global havoc, Mysterio and Galatea
were quickly forgotten. But relatives of Galatea’s victims didn’t forget. Taking the
law into their own hands, they burned down Rolf’s house when they heard rumors
that Galatea was kept in a crate in the basement. Rumors spread that the burning
doll had screamed horrible curses at her tormentors.
Five years later, a short piece about the Mysterio-Galatea-heart-gouging incident
appeared on TV’s Bizarre Mysteries. Rolf was shown whiling away the time tapping
out nursery rhymes on a toy keyboard. A TV commentator said in a grave voice,
“A once highly talented and vital man now wastes away in this institution. But what
put him here?”
The camera panned to Galatea. Wearing a tattered gown, she lay on Rolf’s bed,
staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t beautiful anymore. Dozens of scars crisscross her
body. Her face was filled with gaping holes.
“Who was Galatea?” asked the commentator. “And where did she really come
from?”
unconscious body. Both were surrounded by the outline of a Valentine heart that
Galatea had formed from dozens of human hearts.
Nobody was crazy enough to try to prosecute a doll. That didn’t stop a grand jury
from seeking ways to indict Rolf, especially when they discovered one of the hearts
belonged to Mrs. Carter. Somebody had to pay for murdering a pillar of the
community. However, nobody could figure what laws Rolf had violated by playing
a piano.
Several hurricanes, a disastrous earthquake, a tsunami, pandemic flu, and three
horrendous terrorist attacks caused so much global havoc, Mysterio and Galatea
were quickly forgotten. But relatives of Galatea’s victims didn’t forget. Taking the
law into their own hands, they burned down Rolf’s house when they heard rumors
that Galatea was kept in a crate in the basement. Rumors spread that the burning
doll had screamed horrible curses at her tormentors.
Five years later, a short piece about the Mysterio-Galatea-heart-gouging incident
appeared on TV’s Bizarre Mysteries. Rolf was shown whiling away the time tapping
out nursery rhymes on a toy keyboard. A TV commentator said in a grave voice,
“A once highly talented and vital man now wastes away in this institution. But what
put him here?”
The camera panned to Galatea. Wearing a tattered gown, she lay on Rolf’s bed,
staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t beautiful anymore. Dozens of scars crisscross her
body. Her face was filled with gaping holes.
“Who was Galatea?” asked the commentator. “And where did she really come
from?”
Film clips flashed across the TV, giving brief glimpses of
the Egyptian Pyramids, Area 51, and Bermuda Triangle.
Next came a clip showing a Mysterio and Galatea
performance.
“What was the true relationship between this flesh-and-
blood, virile, human male and his stunning, life-size doll?”
asked the commentator.
“Look, Rolf,” said a psychiatric nurse. “You’re on TV.”
Rolf didn’t look. He was too busy playing hopscotch with
horribly disfigured Munchkins.
the Egyptian Pyramids, Area 51, and Bermuda Triangle.
Next came a clip showing a Mysterio and Galatea
performance.
“What was the true relationship between this flesh-and-
blood, virile, human male and his stunning, life-size doll?”
asked the commentator.
“Look, Rolf,” said a psychiatric nurse. “You’re on TV.”
Rolf didn’t look. He was too busy playing hopscotch with
horribly disfigured Munchkins.
Glancing at Galatea, he winked. What a Sweetie. I told her to tear their hearts out.
She did. Lots of them. On Valentine’s Day. Just for me.
She winked back. “My Love,” she said in a voice that only he could hear. “Do you
think they’d separate us if they discovered what we do every night after lights
out?”
She did. Lots of them. On Valentine’s Day. Just for me.
She winked back. “My Love,” she said in a voice that only he could hear. “Do you
think they’d separate us if they discovered what we do every night after lights
out?”
