Crab Fat Magazine #2

Nora Helmer By: Drew Pisarra

You're sitting in a cavernous theater.

The house is empty. The lights are out.

Beside you, a tame rat with a toupee

snickers while eating macaroons.

You're there to pick a leading lady for

A Doll's House. He's there to help.

The first actress to audition? A peroxide

blonde transvestite in a micro-mini that

barely conceals her candy. When she

coos lines like "What if the wonderful thing

doesn't happen," you wonder, is this a play

by Ibsen or Jacqueline Susann? Not bad.

Option 2 is a disheveled actress who reads

the stage directions as if it were dialogue.

"She laughs," she says then laughs.

"She cries," she says then cries. She stops.

"This room rocking like a boat," she states.

The rat chases her offstage. They're gone.

Third choice: A Bavarian chanteuse who

confides that she's been dying to play Nora

for 40 years. She insists, she'll bring something

new to the role. Is that something new being

old? As she rambles, the spotlight shrinks

then fades to black. Silence. You are alone.

You shuffle the headshots on a makeshift

table as if you were a two-bit, street hustler

perfecting his game of Three Card Monty.

You move the cards fast so the profiles

merge into one generic face. You feel

a shiver up your spine. The rat is back.

He puts down a crisp $3 bill then points

emphatically with his crummy paw,

its five nails painted copper, nails that

tappity tap on the table as he too waits

for the wonderful thing to happen as if

you could somehow make it happen for him.