> PARENTAL ADVISORY: I am a bad man.

the fantastic life and suicide
of mister mary holiday

-- June 14th, 1996 --
``Mary Establishes a Disconnection, Part II of II."

Adrift in the furthermost reaches of time and space was an eerily familiar magic time-travelling hat. This particular magic time-travelling hat happened to be already hurtling through time at a magnificent pace. It belonged to the Mad Hatter Fan Club. Having been stolen from a military outpost storage facility in the late 60's as The Doors were gaining popularity, it was an exact replica of Mary Holiday's on the exterior. However, inside it was without the vast customizations and enhancements Mary had brought to his. This one had exactly three rooms, only one of which are we currently interested in. It looked like a messy interrogation room. The walls were covered with mirrors and the mirrors covered with posters and photographs, shreds of clothing and whatever else could be stuck to them with tape. They all had something to do with Mary Holiday. This was the unifying theme. There were foggy black and white pictures of riots, and broken calculators from Mary's infamous attacks on modern mathematics. On a dirty white sink in the corner was a brown paper lunch bag which Mary had once calmly explained to a pre-law student in a park in New Mexico, was the Anti-Christ. In the very middle of the room stood a gaudy cast-iron statue. It was cold and suited the room uncomfortably, being a bit too large for any reasonably sized room and especially this one. It was, predictably, a statue of Mary Holiday. He was caught in the middle of a vicious swing of his cane; the expression on his face was one of hatred and hateful surprise, as anyone's would if they had just had forty pounds of wet plaster fall on their head. There were no people in this room other than the captain of the hat, who was standing calmly at the end of a plain wooden table. His name was Elliot Haley, and he was dressed exactly like Mary Holiday was in one of the posters on the wall behind him a black and white striped suit, and a thin black tie with a grinning fluorescent green skull on it. Glitter green socks and a matching guitar slung over his shoulder. Elliot's hair wouldn't do the same "I hate you" thing that Mary's did so well, so instead he wore a very bad wig his personal Mary Holiday novelty shop manufactured and sold to fans for ridiculous prices. In his hand was a daisy that he was slowly and regretfully plucking tender petals off of. "He loves me," said Elliot to himself. An ivory white petal fluttered to the floor and joined hundreds of others. Elliot sighed and stared into the view screen on the front wall. It displayed the constant and heavy blackness of time and space. A small counter above the screen indicated how quickly they were moving through it. It was changing very fast. He watched the counter go up another thousand numbers or so and then pulled another petal off the daisy. "He loves me lots," he said wistfully, as he let it fall through his fingertips. Turning the flower over in his hand, he mourned it as a casualty of true love. Then he pulled another petal off. "He loves me." As Elliot tugged at the next one, a silver door to his left slid open gracefully and a nervous looking man in a white coat charged out. His name was Doctor Benway and he was in charge of doing just about everything on the hat that Elliot didn't want to do. "Sir?" said the doctor as he approached. "Sir, we have a problem." "What is it, doctor?" asked Elliot, looking downcast and forgotten. "The reconnaissance team is back, sir, and they -- I'm afraid they were unable to find Mary Holiday's body, sir." "What?" shouted Elliot. "Why not?" "It was, uh... gone, sir." "Gone?" He walked up to the front and glared. "Just where the hell does a body go, Chris? Tell me that!" "I don't know -- nobody seems to know, sir. We're having a hard time getting anything out of the team... they're rather shaken up. It seems some sort of evil religious idol was in its place when they reached the coffin." "Well that's just great!" said Elliot, throwing his arms up in the air. "Terrific! Just what we need! Evil religion!" He sighed and stared at the floor. "Do we at least know which evil religion it is?" "We can't even get a partial description out of them," said Doctor Benway. "They're afraid to talk about it at all." Elliot said nothing. He stared out the screen into infinity and turned the daisy over in his hands. "We've also received reports of another Mary Holiday sighting," said Doctor Benway. "Really," whispered Elliot menacingly. "Where?" "San Francisco. September 24th, 1999. He was reading poetry in a cafe." Elliot turned to stare at the doctor, eyebrows raised. Then they sank and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What kind of poetry?" he asked. "His own. Preliminary data suggests he read it and was then attacked by nearly all the poets in the place." "God, that man is yummy," said Elliot. He began to pet his flower, smiling, and then pulled the second last petal off. "He loves me lots." Some time passed and then Doctor Benway cleared his throat. "And about my time off, sir --" "There's no time for that now, doctor! Once our objectives are reached, I'll consider giving you some, but nobody rests until then." "But sir, I really --" The hat bleeped. "Approaching time and space vector 83-A3 Minor." Elliot spun around and stared out the screen. He could make out a vague, far-off top hat shape in the distance. He clasped his hands together delightedly and squealed. "Slow!" he yelled at the hat. "Slow down! I see them! Do you see them doctor?" Doctor Benway looked and nodded gravely. "Send them a message!" he yelled at the hat again. "Tell them... tell them, 'Hi.' And get that POEM!" he yelled at the doctor. "He hasn't written anything in ages! This is a big event!" Doctor Benway nodded and charged out of the room, fully annoyed. Elliot paid no notice and then began talking to Mary's statue in an adoring burbling voice. "Oh you clever girl, you," he said. "You really are a devious one, aren't you? Just what are you up to? Poetry? Missing body? Attacks by poets? Something's inspired you, my lovely little Holiday and I wonder what it is..."

"Where to?" asked the young woman from the cafe. "Uh," said Mary. "Can we go back to the cafe?" "Sure," she said. She turned the car around and drove in the opposite direction. Mary looked around as casually as he could. It was a very clean car. The young woman kept her eyes steady on the road. "Are you sure you should go back there?" she asked after a moment. "They're probably still looking for you." Mary looked up at the dashboard. There was a pine scented air freshener on it and it smelled bad. "Did you like my poem?" "I did," said the young woman, "I really did. It was really great." "I bet you're only saying that because I'm dead," said Mary, grinning. The young woman faltered at this a bit, but recovered impressively. "No, it... it made me sad," she said. "And it made me think about art and poets and... things." "Really," said Mary. "Go on..." "It made me sad for the main character -- Mary -- like, he's weird. And everybody is obsessed with him in one way or another. They love him or hate him... there's no in-between." Mary shifted uncomfortably. "And..." she continued. "And I think a lot of the problem is with himself, you know?" "No," said Mary cautiously. "What do you mean?" "It's symbolism -- I think. I think the guy who abducts him in the poem is actually, like, himself. It means that he's obsessed with himself too. Or his other half. I don't know. He has difficulty with duality." "Like Batman?" "Like Batman." "Cool." "By the way," she said smoothly. "You never told me your name." There was a delay and then Mary spoke uncertainly. "John. My name is John." "Hi John; I'm Karen. Pleased to meet you." "Hi Karen," said Mary and shook her hand. He stared out the window at the stars as they rolled by. "I'm John," he said quietly to himself.

The bunny liked alcohol. He'd gone a little bit overboard, but still, he liked alcohol. He was stupendously drunk and currently being dragged to the control room by Maxine, who could hold her liquor just fine. The bunny's arm was around her and hi other hand clutched desperately at a nearly empty bottle. The hat warning lights were flashing all around the hallway, which Maxine knew meant there was something important going on in the control room. "You know Massine," slurred the bunny drunkenly, "Max... Maskine? You're... like the nicest anyone's ever been to me...." "Oh, I'm sure that's not true," said Maxine in a strained voice, as she pulled his arm tighter around her. "You're a very nice bunny..." "No, no! Iss true! Iss rilly true." He coughed hard and nearly fell down. "In the academy I... the security academy... they made fun of me, you know. Lossa names... words... they'd break into my locker-er... er..." They entered the control room and Maxine dropped him into a corner where he sulked sadly and then began to lick at his bottle sympathetically. "You unnerstand me ezzackly, don't you boddle? Whatsat? Yeah, heh heh, I love you too, you big hannsome..." "You just lie down over there," said Maxine. "I miss my mom..." the bunny said and then passed out. Maxine sat on Mary's creepy throne. She'd done this sort of thing a thousand times before so it was no big deal. She commanded a big translucent keyboard to appear in front of her, struck a flurry of commands into it and then a face she was unfamiliar with appeared on a blue screen hovering far above her head. "Who are you?" Elliot said sharply. He rustled through his notes and things around him. Maxine was not what he was expecting. "I'm Maxine Readily," said Maxine. "What can I do for you?" Elliot wasn't about to let this throw him. Not after travelling all this way. "I'm looking for Mister Mary Holiday," he said. "Isn't this his hat?" "Yes it is," said Maxine. "Then where is he?" Elliot demanded. "On assignment." Elliot glared hard at Maxine. "Look lady, I don't know who you are but I do know that I've traveled a damn long way just to get told he's on assignment. Who are you? He's not supposed to have anyone else in the control room except a bunny!" He lowered his voice. "You're not... his girlfriend are you?" Maxine was curious. "Mary Holiday gets on my fucking nerves." "OH MY GOD!" Elliot yelled. "YOU ARE HIS GIRLFRIEND!! YOU -- BITCH! CHRIS! CHRIS! OH! MAKE THEM EXPLODE!"

A plain looking blue Toyota Camry swept up to the curb near the cafe and the door swung open. Mary stepped out, shut it and leaned back through the open window. "Thanks," he said as he shook Karen's hand. He turned to walk away. "Wait!" Karen yelled. "John! Will I ever see you again?" Mary reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled poem he read in the cafe, and held it out to her. "Here. Hang onto this for me." As he walked away, the car hesitated and then slowly pulled away into a dark blanket of night. Mary vaguely caught the words "and your motor loves you" carved into the side of the door as they glittered in the moonlight. The neon sign of the poetry cafe was flickering and humming as he walked across the road. It was a huge night out. The sky was immense and the stars were incredibly high up. He fished his hat out of the long grass near the side of the road. It was fizzing and bubbling and making worrying noises. He stuck it on his head and slammed it down past his ankles.

There was something going on in the control room. Mary knew because he had to come in through the porthole in the basement that everyone else used to get on and off of the hat. He fell over a lot of big boxes with lost things in them and had to climb a lot of twisty stairs to get back to the control room. What he found there was a mess. Maxine was yelling at a big blue screen and the bunny was face down in the foot of mist along the floor. "Okay," Mary said as he stepped into the room. He folded his arms seriously. "Who killed the rabbit? I'm looking at you, Maxine." Maxine was still busy yelling at the screen. "Go to hell! I don't give a flying fu-- Oh, hi. Mary!" "Mary's there?!" Mary heard a squelchy voice say. "Put him on!" "It's not that I'm mad or anything," said Mary mostly to himself. "I'd just like to know." "He's not dead!" said Maxine. "He just passed out." "And just what the hell are you doing with that... that... thing?" "It's a keyboard!" yelled Maxine. "I was receiving messages from--" "Oh, I know what you were doing!" Mary said and snatched the keyboard away from her. "You were trying to plan your escape! Send out a message to your precious little admiral to come up here and save your ass. Well it's not going to work, missy! And another thing -- " "Mr. Holiday!" Elliot shouted. Mary paused. "Did somebody just interrupt me?" he said. Maxine pointed at the screen. "It was him." Mary turned around and put his hands on his hips. "Who are you?" he asked. "My name," began Elliot nervously. He had rehearsed for this moment many times but still wasn't fully prepared for it. He'd dreamt of finally getting a chance to speak to the Mad Hatter. "Is Elliot Haley, sir, and I'm the leader of the Mad Hatter Fan Club. It is a distinct pleasure to --" "Hey," Mary cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "You know anything about those assholes trying to steal my body?" Elliot blushed. "I-I can explain all of this to you, your excellency. I've traveled a considerable time and distance to meet with you sir, if you'll just spare a moment of your time --" "No," said Mary and switched the communicator off. He hit another button. "Cleaners to the control room," he said, his voice booming through the hat. "Pasty bunny on the floor. Please deal with it immediately." "They're dead," said Maxine. "Who?" "The cleaners." "Still?" "Uh-huh." "Damn," said Mary. "Then you pick him up and take him out of here." "Why don't you do it!" yelled Maxine. "You've never done a nice thing for him in your damn life!" "That's because I've never TRIED to do a nice thing for him in my damn life!" "That's your problem, freak-o! You don't like anyone! Maybe if you treated him better, he wouldn't be passed out on your floor, pissed drunk right now!" "You know what your problem is? For a hostage, you TALK TOO DAMN MUCH!" "Please kill me," moaned the bunny.

Back in the Mad Hatter Fan Club's hat, Elliot was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching desperately onto the statue. Dr. Benway was trying to console him. "How could he!" Elliot wailed. "How! Could! He!" He collapsed dramatically. "There there, Captain," said Dr. Benway soothingly, petting Elliot's head. "It's really not that bad... really, it's not." "He said no! Why would he say no!? Am I a bad person Chris, am I?" "No, sir. You're a great person..." "Then why doesn't he LIKE me?" "You of all people should know how he is, sir. I mean, come on." Dr. Benway snorted. "He's not exactly the most, you know, open sort of..." Elliot jumped to his feet and started to pace again. "That's it! That's it exactly! I've been such a fool, Chris! As if he'd admit his love for me after just one try! That's just so stupid of me! Why, I should just -- uh... What are you doing?" "I'm watching the torpedoes you fired at Mary Holiday's hat. They're going to hit any moment now." "Oh no!"

"We keep imagining eternity as an idea that cannot be grasped, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, imagine suddenly that there will be one little room there, something like a village bathhouse, covered with soot, with spiders in all the corners, and that's the whole of eternity. I sometimes fancy something of the sort." - Fyodor Dostoevsky
"And THEN," Mary was yelling and stomping up and down, "I'm going to take all the tiny little pieces of your body left over from the explosions and I'm going to put them in a bag and then I will throw it in the ocean so SHARKS will eat them! And then do you know what I'll be doing?" he screamed. Maxine said nothing. "I... will... be... LAUGHING." He giggled. "AT YOU!" he added. "Why don't you go to hell?" "Why don't you just explode?"

©Copyright 1996, Brad Turcotte