Super 0

by Paulson, Daniel

  Alas, there was no time for the next iteration as Kaan had another performance scheduled for the evening. With Bruce out of action for the time being, he pulled Harold from the box and prepped him for his romp with Josephine. Harold was similar in build to Bruce but with a shock of jet black hair and a light stubble, he was fan favourite at the sordid puppet establishments. Josephine was indifferent to her partners, seeing them more as tools to be used and manipulated. That being said, Bruce, Josephine and Harold were all puppets and so it is impossible to know their inner thoughts. They are very secretive after all.

  With Harold and Josephine packed up and ready, Bruce looked on from the plastic crate as his love sauntered away. It could be said that there was a yearning in his eyes, it could also be said that his eyes were not real and yet they were more real than most. If a tear could fall from them, it would be an academy award worthy tear. Kaan was not aware of the emotions lurking within his puppets, if indeed there were any, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made towards the night’s venue.

  The establishment was discreet in its location, to get to it one had to enter a local food vendor’s store and descend a winding staircase into the cellar. It was a dimly lit affair with plumes of smoke emanating from the rather peculiar patrons. The stage was illuminated in a deep red hue, a small stage, but enough to mask the puppeteer from the prying eyes of the attendees. For it must be known that the puppet fetish folk only enjoy the sight of the puppets, any glimpse of the mastermind behind the movements would destroy the illusion and prevent them from achieving whatever release they were after. As such there was a curtain that shielded Kaan from their sight. In truth, he welcomed the discretion, to be caught at an establishment such as that would’ve tarnished his reputation despite many puppeteers frequenting it during their careers.

  The scene was set up ready for Kaan and included an apartment with the various fittings and furnishings one would expect, it was quite a lavish apartment, certainly more lavish than that of Kaan’s. For the night’s display, Josephine played the part of a lonely house maid, with Harold being the CEO of some such corporation. Previously, the setting had been used for the more typical narratives involving pizza delivery people and plumbers, with Bruce enacting those roles. However, tonight was Harold’s starring turn, and boy did he give a performance.

  By the time the performance had ended, there were many a relieved expression on the patrons and the floor had become somewhat stickier. Kaan was packing up his cast and hastily stealing towards the exit. Upon his return to his own less than lavish apartment he was in dire need of a shower to wash away the sins of the evening. Josephine and Harold were in need of a wash also but not before Kaan. When it was time to clean the puppets, Bruce stared longingly at Josephine as she was bathed in the bowl containing dish soap and scrubbed clean with the rough side of a sponge. Harold looked pleased with himself, though that could be attributed to the fixed expression on his face that looked smug regardless of the situation.

  Kaan reviewed the performance in his mind and thought of how it would’ve been improved had he perfected the innovation. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, Kaan couldn’t shake the feeling that everything would’ve been better with the new contraption he had devised prior. He scrambled over to his parts drawer and pulled out a new set of extra durable strings. With the new strings in hand he set about removing the existing strings from the glove and reattaching the new and improved strings.

  Before he could fix the strings in place, he first had to reimagine how they would go together. He placed the glove on his hand and removed Bruce from the crate. Bruce was set on the workstation in a seated position as Kaan waved his gloved hand above him. Bruce twitched at the click of a finger, he raised his arm at another click and then stood upright at the flick of a wrist. Kaan did not have closed eyes this time. He saw the full display. His eyes widened. Another flick of the wrist and Bruce leapt in the air before landing softly back on his feet. Kaan was speechless. Bruce was also speechless but that was because he didn’t have vocal chords.

  Kaan stretched his open palm and Bruce did a little jig, it wasn’t a ballroom dance but enough to warrant a three out of ten if it were to be judged as such. Kaan lowered his gloved hand and Bruce clattered back down onto the workstation, Kaan’s eyes never once left those of Bruce. When Kaan put his gloved hand to his head, Bruce went flying in the air and crashing into the door.

  “Is everything alright in there?” Bruce had awoken Jasmine.

  “Yes, dear. Everything is fine” Kaan didn’t know why he neglected to mention that his puppet had seemingly come to life, perhaps it was the shock.

  “Are you coming to bed?” Jasmine inquired.

  “Yes, dear. Everything is fine” Kaan repeated himself. Must be the shock. The early hours and the raunchy show must’ve clouded Kaan’s judgement for he began to believe that he had telekinetic powers. His eyes darted to the door and focused on the handle. He outstretched his gloved hand and made motions to turn the handle and open the door. Nothing happened.

  His girlfriend smiled after an hour passed without him leaving his puppet room. She loved those moments because it meant that she could have a little fun of her own while her boyfriend was busying himself in the other room with scale puppets of tavern wenches and similarly buxom young ladies. Her Puppet also resembled a human, if one were to remove all of the limbs including the head and simply stuck with the torso and then took sand paper to smooth the edges until it was cylindrical and then had the genius notion to include a small battery powered motor inside of it that caused it to vibrate at varying speeds. Pretty much human-shaped.

  Hmm. Too tricky perhaps. He thought, so he re-evaluated the situation and decided that he must be able to lift a pen. Nothing happened. Disheartened, Kaan went to pick up Bruce and return him to the workstation. He bent down and reached out to pick up his puppet but needn’t have done so as Bruce hovered in the air. Kaan gently moved his gloved hand towards the workstation which Bruce followed until he was sat back atop the workstation.

  It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. It was real. Kaan was stupefied. Bruce would’ve been pretty confused by the turn of events too. Kaan deduced that if it was not him controlling the puppet then it must be the puppet himself.

  “Are you coming?” Jasmine was still awake surprisingly.

  “Yes, dear” Kaan would’ve added everything is fine but frankly he was too exhausted and perplexed to speak any additional words. He removed the glove and placed it softly by Bruce.

  “The school loved your performance last time. They asked me to request another for their annual party” Jasmine and Kaan were seated for breakfast, munching on whatever processed cereal was available at the time. “The theme is the Wild West, do you think you could do that?”

  “I’m not sure” Kaan wasn’t too keen on putting on a display in front of children, he deemed them small cretins who did nothing but eat, sleep and poop.

  “The school will pay of course, and as it turns out, the new head teacher is one of the writers for that puppet magazine you read” This revelation was quite intriguing, Kaan’s interest was certainly piqued.

  “When is it?”

  “I should’ve told you sooner I know, but it’s tomorrow”

  “Kinda short notice don’t you think?”

  “I know, I know, but it was just a spur the moment kind of thing. Can you do it?”

  “I guess so, what’s the new head teacher’s name?” Kaan had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the puppet writers as he had emailed a fair few of them.

  “Ryan Ridley” Now Kaan’s interest was piqued to the maximum.

  “You know he’s not just a writer but the editor, right? Damn I wish you’d told me sooner. Of course I’ll do it”

  “Good, I kinda already told him you would do it” If it weren’t for the revelation of the new headmaster then Kaan would’ve been a touch annoyed about Jasmine’s presumptuousness.

  There was no time to waste, K
aan put aside his cereal bowl and headed straight to his workshop to assemble whatever he could muster that vaguely resembled the Wild West. Bruce would be the star of the show, probably some sheriff type character with Josephine as the lusty, no, not lusty this was a kid’s show, some female cowgirl and Harold would be the bandit. Devising characters was easy but the narrative that they would enact was the tricky part. Thankfully, most Western’s followed a simple format involving a bandit rolling into town and haranguing the locals before the sheriff takes him out and rides off into the sunset. Dammit, he needed a horse, no Western is complete without a horse or two, they don’t call them horse operas for nothing. Kaan rummaged in his various containers and storage bins for something he could pass off as a horse. He finally settled on a rather elaborate piece of equipment that was used for his more adult shows. If he draped some brown felt over the top and fashioned a horse’s head out of some bits and pieces then it could look like a horse. The audience was only children after all and they have nothing but imagination and so it wouldn’t be too difficult to fool their primitive minds. Due to Kaan’s extensive family background in puppeteering and his career to date, he had accumulated a large variety of stage props that he could use for any given scenario. Therefore it wasn’t long before he picked out the particular pieces that wouldn’t look too out of place in a Wild West scene. There were a few cacti of course, some whips left over from the saucier shows and quite a few harnesses that weren’t meant for horses but one could be forgiven for thinking that they were. Before long, he had an entire stable set up and ready for the following day’s performance.

  All that was left was to dress the characters and ensure that their naughty bits were thoroughly covered up and secured. He still had flashbacks to when Bruce’s ding-a-ling flopped out of his trousers during a brief busking stint on the streets.

  “Wow that Harold looks rather fetching in his bandit attire!” Jasmine admired Kaan’s handiwork. “I let Mr. Ridley know that you were available, he’s very excited to see your performance”

  “Gotta admit, I’m a little nervous. I had no idea Ryan Ridley was your boss”

  “He’s a sweetheart really. Apparently he’s seen some of your performances already, can’t think where though as he wasn’t at our school when you last performed there” it dawned on Kaan that he had probably seen one of his more mature shows, however, that needn’t be revealed.

  “Must’ve seen one at a village fair or something like that” Which was indeed plausible, however, it had been a while since he last performed one of those either.

  “I’ll leave you to it. Big day tomorrow, we’re all very excited” Jasmine indeed did as she said she would and left Kaan to it, much to his relief.

  The narrative was a straightforward one, but with a little Kaan flair, he decided to sever all of the strings on his characters and place them in their starting positions. Josephine to stage left with Harold using her as a human shield while Bruce stood to stage right with his gun pointing straight at Harold. Bruce had imagined this moment many times over.

  Kaan flourished his hands in a similar fashion to an orchestra conductor and then made each puppet act out their little narrative with only a flick of his wrists and pinch of his fingers. He was amazed at how the little people obeyed his every motion despite not being bound by strings. When all was complete and Harold was dead on the ground, Kaan decided to have a little fun of his own and send Josephine and Bruce into the haystack for some post-fight entertainment. Obviously, this scene would be omitted from the school show but could perhaps be implemented in a future performance down the line.

  “Mr. Ridley, may I introduce my partner Kaan”

  “Aha the puppeteer, always a pleasure to meet a fellow enthusiast” Mr Ridley was of a stocky build with stout sausage like fingers that grasped Kaan’s in a vice like grip.

  “It’s an honour to meet you, Sir. I’ve been an avid reader of your work for many years now”

  “That old rag is but a hobby, sadly it doesn’t quite pay the bills like it used to” This was true, puppeteering had taken quite the hit and so Mr. Ridley’s publication - Puppeteering Monthly had seen multiple name changes as a result, it became Puppeteering bi-Monthly for a time before settling on Puppeteering bi-Monthly except during the months where the temperature fell below 24 (degrees Celsius because Fahrenheit is absolutely illogical). You know it’s taken a severe hit when temperature has to be included in the title. Nonetheless, it was the primary source of puppeteering news and had a strong following in the puppeteering community because they were the kind of people who still read magazines instead of online articles, Puppeteering bi-Monthly except during the months where the temperature fell below 24 was the top source of puppeteering expertise, although it fluctuated between said publication and the more mundanely titled PUPPETS!!!

  “After the show I would love to sit and have a chat with you for the magazine” Kaan was astonished to be asked for such an interview by the editor of his favourite publication, he couldn’t get the word yes out fast enough. “Wonderful, I shall be watching your performance with great interest young lad” Kaan was not particularly young by any account but he was younger than Ryan Ridley at least, the man who was now walking away from Kaan in a manner akin to a penguin.

  As the small creatures known as children filed in behind their respective teachers, they appeared somewhat confused at the appearance of a stranger in their assembly hall. Confusion turned to elation when they saw the miniature Wild West set. For some reason children are always amazed at the site of miniature versions of things that would normally be relatively large. Each child was dressed in some form of cowboy garb, mostly just cowboy hats, it became clear that there was some sort of old-timey fayre happening at the school where the overarching theme was the Wild West. Jasmine’s school taught using the methodology that every class must have an overarching theme and then each topic would be covered in relation to said theme. How the Wild West fitted in with mathematics was a conundrum that didn’t bear thinking about. In actuality the way it was covered was in relation to cattle rustling and the questions would be such as “If Cletus had rustled three cows on Tuesday and then rustled a further four on Thursday, why didn’t he rustle up any on Wednesday?” and the more straightforward question for the lower classes “If Cletus had a quick fire draw of 0.10 seconds and Diego had a quick fire draw of 0.09 seconds then who would die first in duel?”. The examining body responsible for the questions had very relaxed censorship guidelines.

  There was one child, as there always is, that apparently didn’t get the memo and had come as an astronaut, it must be said though that this child came to school dressed as an astronaut everyday regardless of the theme and so it wasn’t particularly strange. Heck, if that kid had found his look why not flaunt it. Jasmine was leading the charge for a small group of kids that required extra attention, either because they were ferocious little rapscallions or somewhat slower than average, she was wearing a rather fetching red cowboy hat with matching boots that Kaan knew all too well from other extra-curricular activities. Mr. Ridley stood in eager anticipation at the side of the stage until all of the children had sat down in neat little rows like soldiers in a battalion. He stepped onto the stage.

  “Howdy partners” He bellowed.

  “Howdy Mr. Ridley. Howdy everyone” Was the response from the children. The previous theme was Soviet Russia during the cold war and so the typical call and response was “Greetings Comrades” and included many utterances of the word comrade and various calls for the proletarians to unite and fight the imperialist oppressors.

  “Well don’t we have a mighty fine display for y’all today” Mr. Ridley’s Texan accent was laughable. “We got Mr. Kaan here and his magic puppets to teach y’all about the Wild Wild West, no not the film starring that actor you all love, but the real deal Wild Wild West and boy was it rootin’ tootin’” the kids didn’t understand a word that their head teacher was saying, the teachers simply sniggered.


  Kaan lit the stage alight, metaphorically speaking of course as the act of setting a stage alight would result in a fire hazard that would incur a considerable amount of paperwork. The children were spellbound by the motions of the puppets that were seemingly moving by themselves, they couldn’t see any strings but didn’t have the computing power upstairs to realise what the ramifications of that would be. The teachers couldn’t see any strings either but they were too transfixed on the beautiful display of puppeteering to notice. Mr. Ridley noticed though. He noticed with great intrigue at how such movements were done without any glimpse of a string in sight. He could clearly see Kaan gesturing wildly and the puppets responding to such gestures by performing all manner of actions, but there was something off about the performance. He couldn’t see the strings and that irked him.