Ever
since I first read Homer’s epic describing the adventures of Odysseus
back in my school days, three of those adventures fired my imagination:
The Lotus Eaters, The Cyclops and the Sirens, most especially the
Sirens. I just did revisit these sections of this Greek epic and my
imagination was set aflame yet again. How much, you ask? Here is my
microfiction as a tribute to the great poet:
THE SIRENS
This
happened back in those days when I was a member of an experimental
performing-arts troupe down in Greenwich Village. We would read poetry,
dance and act out avant-garde plays in our dilapidated little theater.
For a modest charge people could come in and watch for as long as they
wanted.
Somehow, a business executive who worked downtown in the
financial district heard of what we were doing and spoke with our
director about an act he has all worked out but needed a supporting cast
and that he would pay handsomely if we went along with him.
Well,
experimental is experimental and if we were going to be well paid we
had nothing to lose. The first thing he did was pass out our costumes.
In addition to himself, he had parts for three men and three women. The
play we were to perform was so simple we didn’t even need a written
script. He was to be Odysseus from Homer’s epic and three men would be
his sailors. As for the women, we would be the singing Sirens.
So,
after he changed – quite a sight in a loincloth, being gray-haired,
jowly, pasty-skinned and potbellied – we went on stage and he told the
sailors how no man has ever heard the hypnotic songs of the Sirens and
lived to tell the tale but he, mighty Odysseus, would be the first. He
instructed the sailors to tie him to the ship’s mast. They used one of
the building’s pillars and when he cried out as the Sirens sang their
song the sailors, who had wax in their ears, were to bind him to the
mast even tighter.
Meanwhile, three of us ladies were on stage as
the Sirens, in costume, bare-breasted and outfitted with wings. We
began singing a sweet, lilting melody. Mike – that was the businessman’s
name – started screaming and the sailors tightened the ropes that bound
him. The sailors were glad their ears were plugged as Mike screamed for
nearly half an hour.
When the ship passed out of earshot of
the Sirens, the sailors unbound mighty Odysseus and he collapsed on our
makeshift stage, a mass of exhausted middle-aged flesh. The audience
applauded, even cheered and we continued our performance of Odysseus and
the Sirens every night for more than a week. Then one night Mike outdid
himself. His blue eyes bulged, the veins in his neck popped and his
face turned a deeper blood-scarlet than ever before. And what I feared
might happen, did happen – Mike had a heart attack. We had to interrupt
our performance and call an ambulance.
We all thought that was
the end of our dealing with Mike aka Odysseus until our director
received a call from the hospital. Mike told her he was going to be just
fine and would be back on stage next week. We called a meeting and
everyone agreed that we would suggest Mike seek psychiatric help but if
he insists on playing Odysseus, he will have to take his act elsewhere.
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