A bloody housewife, center. She has wrapped herself in the skin of an animal.
FRANNY The yeast wouldn’t bubble for me. I had killed the yeast, or perhaps, I had never let it live in the first place. I couldn’t tell. I tried again. Another packet of yeast, turn on the electric kettle, 30 seconds off boil and...no bubbles. No bubbles.
Nick and Kevin had wanted pepperoni rolls. Non-stop, begging pleading climbing over one another. Mom! Pepperoni rolls! Please! Please mom! As bad as when they wanted you to take them to the gun range. So I said yes. I would try pepperoni rolls. Why not shut them up.
Another packet. I watched a YouTube tutorial and still...no bubbles. It was the water, I knew, I knew it was the water, cause the temperture is super important and you never got me the Thermapen I told you I wanted. I said, Google “Best Meat Thermometers Serious Eats” and it would be right there. I said, “Say it with me Ther-Ma-Pen, Thermapen” They make it easy. But you got me a French Press instead.
It’s pretty, but the clean-up, the reason our last one got moldy is cause it sucks to clean.
It sucks to clean, Bug.
My water was the wrong temperature. The yeast was gone. The boys had no idea. What I had turned into downstairs. I looked like this. Well less so. Cause some of this happened when I went into the woods.
I took out the paring knife, the good one, and made sure it was sharp then I told the boys not to kill each other and started off towards The Pine Barrens. I took the Landrover because even in my fugue-ish state I knew my Jetta wouldn’t make it.
Holding the knife as I drove I bored as far into The Pines as I could go. No more road. Shifted to neutral. Killed the engine. And glided, silent, until I was eclipsed by trees. Tall, ancient trees. All around.
I was looking for something to kill.
I crept in, listening for the sound of something else. Snap! I looked left. Knew something was there. A wet smell. Fur. I wanted it. I wanted to wear it. I wanted to hunt it and kill it and wear it.
Jason showed me. A long time ago. When I asked what him and daddy did on their weekends. He thought I’d flinch. Thought I’d ask to have the taxidermy taken down once I figured out it came from Bambi. But I loved them more. Friend’s houses I’d look around and know my brother and my father shot the best bucks out of anyone in town. They were the best and I channeled that.
It must have been scared of me the way it took off. But I took off after it, the Rover unlocked, knife out—ready. All those spin classes, of course I could catch that bobcat. That scaredy cat. And then it was just two cuts and it was ready to come home with me.
The boys were still upstairs, they’re trying to “100% Call of Duty” or something. They hardly noticed I’d returned, much less that I was flaying a bobcat on the kitchen counter.
Putting the kettle on I grabbed the last packet of yeast from the cupboard. I felt...I felt like I haven’t felt in years. I knew that the spirit of the bobcat was inside me. This time I sniffed the water to know the temperature, finding 107 degrees easily.
And I had bubbles. Amazing, bubbly bubbles. IN MY YEAST. And I got to shout PEPPERONI ROLLS BOYS! And watch them tumble down the stairs, collect their hot, cheeesy pepperoni rolls and snap back up the stairs for another round. Didn’t ask whose blood this is, just like you didn’t, when you came home from work. You just grabbed a cold pepperoni roll from the fridge and opened a microbrew before I could even tell you that dinner tonight. Dinner tonight will be extra special. We’re having game meat. And it’s endangered.
Originally performed by Kerry Kastin at Spoke The Hub in the Gowanus Arts Building as part of their Winter Follies performance festival 2015