Chuck Palahniuk - Tell All

Luise Rainersingsslightly off-key during the Rape of Nanking,and Conrad Veidtflubbed a couple dance stepsduring the Corregidor Death March, butotherwise the first act seems to work. A constant plume, really amushroom cloud of white cigarette smoke rises from Lilly Hellman’s seatin the center of the fifth row, flanked there by MichaelCurtizand Sinclair Lewis. On West Forty-seventh Streetalready the marqueecarries the title Unconditional Surrender starring Katherine Kentonand George Zucco. Music and lyrics by JeromeKernand Woody Guthrie. At the stagedoor, a truck from the printer unloads stacks of glossy programs.Backstage, Eli Wallachin the role of Howard Hughespractices some business, seated withinthe cockpit of a full-size balsa- wood mock-up of the Spruce Goose .

The first act curtain falls as the chorusgirls rush to change into their sequined shark costumes for the sinkingof the USS Indianapolis atthe opening of the second act. Ray Bolgerprepares to die of congestive heart failure as FranklinDelano Roosevelt. John Mack Brownpreps to assume office as Harry Trumanopposite a small cameo appearance by Ann Southernas Margaret Truman.

Amid the sea of empty seats, Terrence Terryand I sit in the twentieth rowcenter, buttressed by our parcels and Bloomingdale’sbags and various thermosbottles.

Alone in row twelve, stage right, sits Webster Carlton Westward III, his bright brown eyesnever leaving the form of Miss Kathie. His broad shoulders leaningforward, both his elbows planted on his knees, he thrusts his Americanface toward her light.

From any closer than row fifteen, MissKathie’s dyed hair looks stiff as wire. Her gestures, jittery and tense,her body whittled down by fear and anxiety to what LouellaParsonswould call a “lipsticked stick figure.” Despite theconstant threat of murder, she refuses to involve the police out of fearshe’ll be humiliated by W. H. Mooringin Film Weekly or Hale Hortonin Photoplay , depicted as a dotty has-beeninfatuated by a scheming gigolo. It’s a choice between the deviland the deep blue sea: whether to bekilled and humiliated in book form by the Webb, or to remain alive andbe humiliated by Donovan Pedeltyor Miriam Gibsonin Screen Book magazine.

Even as the stagehands change the plasterrocks of Iwo Jimafor the canvas hull of thedoomed Indianapolis ,I’m scribbling notes. My fountain pen scratching my handwriting alongline after line, I scheme and conspire to save my Miss Kathie.

Eyeing the Webster specimen, the matinee idoloutline of Webb’s American profile, Terry asks if we’ve discovered anynew murder plan.

Midsentence, still writing, I retrieve thelatest pages of Love Slave and toss them into Terry’s lap. I tell him that I found this newestrevision in Webster’s suitcase this morning.

Terry asks if I’ve arranged an escort for theshow’s opening next week. If not, he can stop by the town house tocollect me. His eyes skimming back and forth across the typed pages,Terry asks if Miss Kathie has seen this version of her demise.

Flipping to a new page of my notebook, stillwriting, I tell him, Yes. That accounts for her vibrato.

Peering over the top of the Love Slave pages,squinting at my notes, he asks what I’m writing.

Tax returns, I tell him. I shrug and say thatI’m answering Miss Kathie’s fan mail. Reviewing her contracts andinvestments. Nothing special. Nothing too important.

And reading aloud from the new finale of MissKathie’s life story, Terry says, “ ‘ Katherine Kentonnever knew it, but the Japanese Yakuza are deservedly world-renowned asruthless, bloodthirsty assassins.…’ ”

“ ‘A Yakuza assassin,’ ” reads the voice of Terrence Terry, “ ‘can perform an execution in aslittle as three seconds.…’ ” We dissolve to a misty street scene. Thefantasy stand-ins for Miss Kathie and Webster stroll, window-shoppingalong a deserted city sidewalk, gilded by a rind of magic-hour sunlight.Whether this is dawn or dusk, one can’t tell for certain. The lithesomepair linger at display windows, Miss Kathie perusing dazzling necklacesand bracelets proffered there, dense and heavily set with glitteringclusters of diamonds and rubies, even as Webster never takes his eyesoff her face, as bewitched by her beauty as she is by the resplendentwealth of lavish, sparkling stones.

The voice-over continues reading, “ ‘A commonassassination technique is to approach the target from behind.…’ ”

Trailing a few steps in the wake of MissKathie, we see a figure dressed in all-black garments, his faceconcealed within a black ski mask. Black gloves cover his hands.

“ ‘What actually occurred may always be oneof film-land’s most enduring mysteries. No one could say who had paidfor the gruesome attack,’ ” says Terry’s voice, “ ‘but it did exhibitall the earmarks of a professionally trained killer.…’ ”

The happy couple saunter along, aware of onlythe glittering gems and their own happiness. They move in theslow-motion bubble of their own supreme bliss.

“ ‘The weapon was an ordinary ice pick …’ ”reads Terry.

We see the masked figure extricate a gleamingspike of needle-sharp steel from his jacket pocket.

“ ‘The assailant has merely to step close tothe victim’s back …’ ” reads Terry in voice-over. The masked figure sidles up immediatelybehind Miss Kathie. Shadowing her footsteps, he reaches toward hersvelte neck with the cruelly sharpened ice pick.

“ ‘Thereupon, the well-practiced assassinextends an arm over the victim’s shoulder and plunges the steelyweapon’s point deep into the soft area above the clavicle,’ ” readsTerry. “ ‘A quick side-to-side jerk effectively severs the subclavianartery and phrenic nerve, causing fatal exsanguination and suffocationwithin an instant.…’ ”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, on-screen all this happens.Blood and gore spray an adjacent shopwindow filled with sparkling,glistening diamonds and sapphires. The clots and gobbets of gore slidestreaks of brilliant crimson down the polished glass even as the maskedassailant flees, his running footfalls echoing down FifthAvenue. At the death scene, Webster CarltonWestward IIIkneels in the spreading pool of Miss Kathie’sscarlet blood, cradling her movie-star face in his massive, masculinehands. The light in her famous violet eyes fading, fading, fading.

“ ‘With her final dying breath,’ ” reads Terrence Terry, “ ‘my beloved Katherine said,“Webb, please promise me …” She said, “Honor and remember me by sharingyour incredibly talented penis with all the most beautiful but lessfortunate women of this world.” ’ ”

On-screen, the idealized Miss Kathie sags,limp, in the embrace of the soft-focus Webster. Tears stream down hisface as his stand-in says, “I swear.” Shaking one bloody fist at the skyin frustrated rage, he shouts, “Oh, my dearest Katherine, I swear toperform your dying wish to my utmost.”

From behind their thin scrim of red gore, thediamonds and sapphires watch, glinting coldly. Their multitude ofpolished, flashing facets reflect infinite versions of Miss Kathie’sdemise and Webster’s unbearable heartbreak. The emeralds and rubies beardetached, timeless, eternal witness to the drama and folly of merehumankind. The Webster character looks down; seeing blood on his Rolexwristwatch, he hurriedly wipes the timepieceon Miss Kathie’s dress, then presses the dial to his ear to listen for atick.