My Fair Jacky, Act II: 'The Brat with the Gat'
The way he pronounced each syllable of her name made her know that he meant business. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for some place - any place - to hide. She could hear his heavy footsteps as they made their way up the spiral staircase that led to her room.
“Jaclyn!” he repeated, his voice closer, more insistent.
He was at the end of the hallway by the time she accepted the fact that she was too wide to fit under the bed. After a brief back-and-forth that was more back than forth in prayer, she swore to hit the gym if she made it out of this. The closet was filled with her items, still in boxes. She considered burrowing into the mound of clothing that was a mix of not-quite-right and well-worn when there was a knock. He was at her door.
She rushed into the room. There was nowhere left. She stopped, her eyes locked on the knob as it began to rattle then over to Bunny.
The door creaked open.
This is it…
She swallowed as he stepped into the room. Morgan Freeman still had his overcoat on, damp from the Chicago rain. He was flanked by Tank and Trevor. His usual bright smile was replaced by a disappointed frown. Her heart sank, but she did her best to remain still. He sighed.
“Would you mind telling me what happened downstairs?” She continued to do her best to mimic a statue, positive Bunny would crack first. “I’m not that old, Jacky”
She slowly turned to him, feigning surprise.
“Oh hiya!” she smiled, “When did you get home?”
Jaclyn bit her lip, her eyes looking to the ground. Bunny continued to sit quietly. What a friend.
“Okay see…it all started
Cause you left me and Bunny alone
The reality is though,
We were just defending your home.”
Morgan Freeman turned to Tank and raised an eyebrow.
“The internet went out,
There was nothing to do.
Just watch the raindrops,
Okay, and drink a little bit too.”
Jaclyn Pierrot walks in front of the trio through the wreckage of the living room. Anything that was once standing has been flipped, broken, or shot. The ceiling fan has been torn loose.
“I sat there with Bunny,
We sat and we drank,
Well, mostly it was him,
Boy, did he get tanked!
No Netflix to watch,
Or snacks to be had,
I did my best to sit,
And not to be bad
And so all we did was drink,
But that’s not the cause,
Despite what you may think.”
She glares over at them, doing her best to make it look comical: they were not amused.
The was a knock at the door
And then in he broke!
(I know you what you thought:
That was the beginning of some joke.)
We moved to the door,
But already he was in!
Grease paint, slickened hair,
And an evil, evil grin.
The Destroyer who was Dark!
He said with a laugh.
“Get out of my way! Evil warpath!”
“I know we have a match,
And you do not stand a chance.”
And like Rick James on the couch
He began an evil war dance.”
Jacky motions to the couch. Turned over on its back, it is in fact covered in dark boot prints.
“‘Get out of our house!
This will not stand!’
“Be careful where you land!”
He kicked over the lamp.
“Take me seriously, my man”
But he didn’t listen,
Or care what I said,
Flipping over the sofa,
A table, then a bookshelf as his evil warpath spread.”
She steps in front of them, her hands drop to her hips. Her eyes glare up at the two giant men.
“Now Trevor and Tank,
They were nowhere to be had,
Because I guess Trevor was still upset,
That I had made him tap.
They should have stopped him.
They should have got him out,
They should have stopped him,
But instead they chose to pout.”
The two men simultaneously cross their arms, though Trevor does so much more gingerly.
“‘You and your Bunny
Should join me in my spree!’
He bounced off the walls,
So those holes that you saw?
They were mostly he.
‘Evil is really,
Just the only way!’
He broke through a window,
‘Evil’s here to stay!’
Did he stop there?
He continued on his spree.
To cause a bunch of chaos,
And blame it all on me, Jacky P.”
She stands, dramatically indicating to herself. None of the companions speak but something about their posture seems to indicate they are buying into this performance. She darts to the next room and they casually follow.
“I chased him to the kitchen,
Hot upon his heels.
I tried my best to grab him,
But he was slippery as an eel.
‘Set an evil fire,
Set an evil flame’
Cause a bunch of chaos:
Leave me here to blame.
‘Listen here, you shit!’
I grabbed him by his shirt.
‘You keep on fucking around,
I’m gonna make you hurt!’”
She pantomimes grabbing him, giving her best snarl. It would likely be intimidating if it was done by someone completely different. She clutches her eyes, stumbling back.
“‘Evil eye poke!’
Was all he had to say,
Before jabbing out my eyes,
And squiggling away.
And this was it, I swear,
This is where I broke,
He did the most evil thing I’ve seen
More evil than the ‘Evil Eye Poke.’
He opened up the freezer,
More evil than my most evil, evil dreams:
He ran his tongue along the top,
Of the house's ice cream.”
The aforementioned ice cream sits on the counter, the flavors blending together in the heat. They do not share her angst over it’s violation.
I’ve had all I can stands!’”
Jacky swats the carton off the counter and mostly into the trash. Morgan Freeman just shakes his head.
“And that, I swear, is the only reason,
I took the gun into my hands.
He was the reason:
I broke in your nightstand.”
She pulls the gun out and Tank takes it from her roughly. She tosses him a raspberry, then interrupts Morgan before he can speak.
“Okay I admit:
I did have it planned.”
She rushes into the foyer.
“But there you can see,
Where I just barely missed.
I did it for you!
I don’t understand while you’re pissed!
I’m telling the truth,
Oh why would I lie?”
Then back to the living room.
“You see right there?
I just missed his eye!
Four shots remained,
He was getting away!
Not if I could help it!
I shot but it went astray
‘You crossed the line!’
‘But now it’s time for you to leave.’
He just laughed again:
‘Evil excuse me?
‘I’ve just begun to fight’
Said the kabuki who was spooky
‘Because evil is on the rise.’
Said the evil flukey.
He leaped and caught the fan,
With no momentum at all,
Wildly kicking his legs,
He only accelerated his fall.”
She points down to the coffee table which looks to have imploded in a wave of glass and cherry oak.
“‘Shoot him’ Bunny had said,
And I guess I should have shot,
Because what happened next,
Could have ended on the spot.
‘Why what you have done,
Is quite the evil thing!’”
She holds up her hands, as if indicating they should brace themselves. They do not.
“What happened next,
I swear that it’s true.
That’s the wall
He then jumped through.
‘Jacky, Morgan is on his way home!’
So upstairs I went
To pick up the phone.
So that’s I guess when you came in,
You saw the damage, you saw the chips.
Bunny, drunk as I did say,
Suggested that we should tell fibs.
But I said, ‘No, Bunny!
We’ll tell them the truth!’
And despite himself, Morgan couldn’t help but yell:
‘You blew a hole in my roof!’”
Jaclyn Pierrot's jaw drops as the actor begins to detail the destruction she had caused.
Morgan Freeman listens until the door slams shut above them. He has a lot to do, or rather, he has a lot to have others do. He turns towards Trevor as they make their way back towards his office.
“She made you tap?”
Tank chuckles. Trevor reaches over to shove his companion over the smaller actor.
“Yeah, but she hit me with that fucking pistol first.”
“The one you just took, Tank?”
“Yes. This one right…” says Tank, reaching into his jacket pocket. His face drops and he stops in his tracks, turning to the actor. “...here.”
Morgan watches him pat down the rest of his pockets before he turns to Trevor. Trevor shakes his head. Morgan sighs.
“She still has it doesn’t she?” He asks. The two men quietly nod. He cannot help but smile as he turns back towards the staircase.
“The Dark Destroyer.”
Jaclyn Pierrot flicks on the light and smiles. She is in her room, or at least her temporary room. It is larger than the one she shares on the farm with Tempest, or shared up until recently. The monitor still blinks on her ankle.
“Do you see what I did there?” She turns it on and off once more, “Like a flip of the switch, the dark is done. Gone. No more. Vanquished. Defeated. And you?”
“You will be no different.”
Her head nods.
“You and I have a lot in common, I suppose. When I first showed up, everyone thought I was a joke.” She spreads her arms wide, presenting herself, “Well, who’s laughing now?”
Her hand cups behind her ear.
“Shhh. You hear that?”
She pretends to listen for a moment, her eyes looking into the distance.
“That’s right: it’s not the world cheering me on but watching with bated breath. They are silent as anticipation wells up inside. They are waiting to see the inevitable conclusion - the punchline and the pratfall as Icarus poor wings melt and burn once again when they fly too close to the sun.”
She makes a whistle noise, like a bomb slowly dropping to the earth.
She smushes her hands together. Her honking laughter spills forth.
“Acme brand wings can only take you so far, after all, and the rules are clear and simple. A line in the sand: the coyote never outsmarts the bird and a Jacky never has her day, right?”
She shakes her head slowly.
“Well I’ve got bad news for you: I am no cartoon. I am no joke and your rules? Your limitations? Your regulations? They are merely a trap, not for me, but for each of you because I am left with no choice, once again, but to play.”
She smiles, clapping her hands together playfully.
“And I love to play.”
Her hand moves to the switch, flipping the light off again.
She turns it on.
“Like the flick of the switch, let it be done. Let it be over. Let it be finished. ‘Put out the lights…then put out your lights.’” She grins.“‘So sweet was never so fatal.’”
Her hand slips behind her waistband. Morgan’s voice can be heard through the door: “Jacky!!” She looks to the door and then back to the camera. Footsteps rapidly approach and there is another knock at the door. Jacky leans forward, cutting the camera feed. The footage fades to black.
Jacky sits at her window, arms folded across her chest. She couldn’t have her gun. She couldn’t go outside: house arrest was the absolute worst. She finds herself spending most of her time staring out of the window of her small room. Jaclyn watches into the evening…into the night…
She watches and she waits.
She gets to know the regulars on the street.
…and she waits…
…and she dreams.