Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Sunday, June 22, 2014

"Spy!" the musical, by Brother Divine of the International Peace Movement

Freddy Ritchings (AKA Brother Divine of the International Peace Movement) had been doing fairly well with his Church of Twitter, but it was no substitute for live, adoring fans, er, worshipers.  So far, the only members of his congregation he had ever seen in the flesh were other residents of the Arlington group home for the mentally challenged (and social worker Hue Nguyen).  Today he was premiering his new musical, "Spy!", for this congregation to see if "Spy!" was ready for him to take on the road--like an old-time traveling Bible-thumper.  To keep the audience as large as possible today, he had decided to sing all the parts himself.

Without further ado!
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(To the tune of "Aquarius", with apologies to James Rado, Gerome Ragni, and Galt MacDermot.)

When the moon is in the darkest house...
and Jupiter runs away from Mars...,
then WAR will guide the planets...
and HATE will steer the stars!

This is the dawning of the Age of Pe-tra-e-us,
Age of Pe-tra-e-us....
David Pe-tra-e-us!
Be-tray us!

Harmony and understanding,...
sympathy and trust are foundling.
Lots of falsehoods and derision,...
CIA agents with night vision,
mythic tales of rendition,
and the death of liberation.

Pe-tra-e-us!
Be-tray us!

**************************************************************
"What is this?" interjected Buckner.  "Some kind of hippie mumbo jumbo?"

"No, it's not!" shouted Cedric (formerly of the CIA, currently believing himself to be a former British spy).  "He's bloody insulting the CIA!"

"Please be respectful," whispered the social worker.  "Go on, Freddy."
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We hide, pausing... 
just for cellphone and our breath...
feeding NSA our texts,
wearing smells from laboratories,
facing a spying nation...
the Constitution a fantasy,
listening for the new-told lies...
with supreme visions of i-Tunes.

Somewhere…
inside our things there is a rush…
of…our data to a Chinese spy…
or...our very own FBI!
Ghost Henry…
now stands in front of our eyes!
I fear my future with drones in space.
Silence tells me secretly…
Everything…
Everything!

Manchester, England…England…
across the Atlantic Sea…
was the home of Britain’s finest spy…
who believed in God…
and he believed his God believed in fraud.
You see?
You see?

He rests in silence.

Our space songs…
on a World Wide Web guitar.
Life is around you and in you.
The answer is just…do the Tweet,…
My darling, my babe, my sweet!

**************************************************************
“This is completely nuts!” whispered Melinda, who was comforted by Millie, the big, brown, helping dog (who understood exactly what Freddy was saying).
**************************************************************
Let the sun shine!
Let Twitter love in,
Twitter love in!
Let the sun shine!
Let Twitter love in, 
Twitter love in!
**************************************************************
Theresa, Melinda, and Larry jumped to their feet, joined in the chorus, and started clapping.  Meanwhile, psychologist Leo Schwartz had arrived for a surprise visit, and was quite put out.

"Ms. Nguyen!"  (The room went silent.)  "Can I see you in the office, please?!"  Ms. Nguyen rushed out with Dr. Schwartz.  "What on Earth is going on?  You know how many paranoid schizophrenics we have here, and you let Freddy sing a song about spies?"

"Well, I didn't know it would be about spies--he said it was for his Church of Twitter.  You said it was healthy for him to be interacting with other people on social media--"

"I know what I said about social media!  Don't you realize they're all going to be complaining about spies in the house now?"

"They already were, Dr. Schwartz.  It used to be aliens, but now it's always spies.  I think their complaints will just get a little more specific now."

Meanwhile, Cedric had beaten a hasty retreat to his room to consult with Aloysius, his teddy bear.  "He knows everything about me!" wailed Cedric.  "He's been spying on me!  Now, what shall I do?"

"Do nothing," whispered Ghost Henry from behind him, and Cedric jumped three feet.  "I'll wipe his mind tonight."  (The ghost of Henry Samuelson actually had no ability to do any such thing, but he was fairly certain that Freddy's mind would move onto other things soon enough.)  "Don't lose your cool!"

Up in the corner, two of The Shackled materialized to drag Ghost Henry out of the house, where he argued vehemently with them about minding their own business.

"Practice what you preach, then, Henry!  Your Ghost CIA is way over the line!"

"My Ghost CIA is the only agency still doing anything useful in this world!" retorted Ghost Henry.

"You need to stop!" they shouted.

"Say you and what army?" taunted Ghost Henry.  Then he remembered how many of The Shackled were actually out there, and he flew off without another word.

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COMING UP:  Catching up with the Devil's Advocate. 

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