The Thane

Good news, everyone. I am fifteenth on the International waiting list for a venue at the Montreal Fringe Festival.

This means that if fifteen of the other artists cancel their performances or myteriously die in the night, I will be a shoo-in.

I had really wanted to play the Fringe because I think the clean-living, roof-partying, high-IQ, sex-loving Montrealians would be the perfect audience for The Crinkle-Cut Man and also because my girlfriend lives there so I would be able to visit her while cleverly writing off the trip as a tax expense.

Oh well. At least this teaches me that fraud is not a cornerstone of a romantic relationship.

Getting onto the waiting list is no kind of achievement other than doing well in a game of chance. The artists are not picked on merit of a proposal but rather randomly via a lottery.

I still did well though. Hundreds of artists would have applied. Take that, random chance! I am the best at chance!

Well, the thirtieth best.

Out of those who entered.

It’s a very disappointing result, actually. If I had been fourth or fifth on the waiting list, I would at least have some significant hope of getting in. If I had been sixteenth (i.e. not on the list) I would have got my investment money back. Instead, I’ll have to wait until June to see that again.

Of course, I could be proactive about helping the other acts pull out. I could murder my way into the Fringe like a Macbeth.

Some might argue that cleverly murdering fifteen people from around the globe would be more of an achievement than simply having my name pulled out of a hat. But others may argue that it would be the act of a psychopath. Who to listen to?

Yes, I have decided to become a murderer. It is the only way I can see of fulfilling my lifelong ambition of being the Thane of Cordor.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *