Aesopian x

All this chaos, all these pathetic shows of mockery, of agitation, all these door-slamming, hell-raising episodes. I cringe as a helpless audience, having been forcefully pushed into the theatre by the ticketing man. Yes, I cringe and I cringe and I clench my fists, all I want is to get out of this shabbily put together play. Alas, as I make my way to the exit, in the name of some experimental theatrical act, I am called up to the stage. “What should the characters do next? How do you feel? Come, come on up, come join us,” they say. I badly want to escape, but it is too late. I stay mute, as if silence will absolve me from this responsibility to continue the play, to say something to fill the silence. But I will not. I remain resolutely tight-lipped. They keep pressing, these hateful characters in this hateful play. I try to walk away but there is nowhere to hide on the small stage. “Go away,” I say. “This is shit.” I say a little more forcefully. I felt as though I should assert myself, drop the F-bomb maybe? A little rude gesture? But that will also be an act that will shame me till my face turns red. I see no way out. So I continue to stand there, tears welling up in my eyes. I continue to stand in the empty theatre, with the two hateful characters in the play beside me waiting for my direction. I continue to stand mutely, for ages, until I become a prop on the stage. Until I become their prop on the stage.