I keep thinking about this director I had once. I only worked for her the one time, because she was one of the single most deplorable human beings I’ve ever encountered in my life.
She Was A Mother, Wife, Abuser, Liar, And Cheat
She taught theatre classes part time at a local college, and I knew a lot of her students. The whole situation was a mess, because she was a very bad person.
Enter The Drunk Actor
I keep thinking about one of her actors, who had some substance abuse issues that nearly no one knew about. This director, the bad lady, she had a trick of getting vulnerable actors into her office and playing a sympathetic mother figure, and then later on, weeks later, she’d use the secrets she learned in private to humiliate her actors in front of their classmates.
And She Called This, “Teaching Acting”
She did that to this one actor, the one who was trying to not be an addict anymore. I just keep thinking about the student, who was being preyed on, from one side, by a couple of gay actors who harbored the kid after binges and sort of helped her hide things, and on the other side by this evil director.
The director got fired from the college, finally, over some ethics and sexual tangles, and she moved on to try and take advantage of other theatre people somewhere else.
Good Riddance, I Say
I remember being in a rehearsal with this student, the addict, and no one knew about the problem yet. The whole situation is just sad, you know? And there’s something about this kid being used by heartless young men on the one end and this older matron vampire on the other that makes me feel irritated.
Me And My Significant Other, The Super-Impoverished People (At The Time)
My partner and I ran a sort of accidental halfway house for troubled actors at the time, not officially at all, but people showed up at our door a lot, and sometimes they spent the night on a spare couch, or came to be fed. That happened a lot, actually. We helped a lot of sad, lonely young people who were lost.
We Never Knew About This Addict
I’m irritated at this addicted actor’s parents, honestly. I’m angry that the kid had no sense of safety, of knowing who to trust and where to turn for help.
I guess it would help if I explained about me again. I was bred deliberately as a sort of sexual plaything, and never had an actual family. My breeders had a rudimentary grasp of–not style, exactly, but they understood that culture was important, and they preferred their owned objects to have a veneer of class.
Because We Were Bait, And Icons
So I educated myself, because I’m not an idiot, and I don’t like to be beaten much. Partway through giving myself a well-rounded grounding in world literature, at the age of about eight or nine, I started to figure out who was safe, and who wasn’t.
Dangerous Vs. Stupid
My uncle, for example, was a very dangerous man, very powerful, very polished, and you would never, ever peg him as a homosexual. He had a great flair for dramatic camouflage, and seems to be the penultimate family man. Super responsible. He’s getting to be rich now, and he’s very accomplished in the way of legal theft.
Then there’s my particular handler, a very violent kid who was allowed to beat me when I was a child.
Sneaky Grey Areas
You see, when your parents are really your owners and breeders, and if they have any brains at all, they realize pretty quickly that siblings can hit each other, and nobody calls the cops. So we got sorted out, essentially, into who could hit whom, and when, and why. If you kept all the unspoken rules, you didn’t get hit much.
Now, my handler is a violent prick, and a dumb fuck, but he’s very sweet in his deepest soul, and if he’d ever had the guts to fight back against our owners, he might have turned out a little bit. All the evil in him comes from outside, from manipulation external to his actual soul.
As Opposed To Being Originally Evil, Himself
He’s still completely forfeit as a human being, to my mind, because he never did fight back at all, and because he’s a coward who prefers to thrust vulnerable parties in the line of fire rather than face any discomfort himself, but if everything about him was different, I wouldn’t mind him so much.
What I’m trying to say is, I can trust my handler, and I could never in a million years trust that particular uncle. My handler was predictable, and very dim. My uncle’s evil always came from right within his own heart, and he was not good news.
Back To This Alcoholic Girl
Anyway, so I keep thinking about this theatre kid, this miserable, mostly-functional alcoholic, and how the kid didn’t understand the basic, rudimentary lesson of survival among predators: That you have to know which evil dudes to run and hide with, and which to avoid like the plague.
The alcoholic girl was always hiding with the wrong kind of gay guy, and didn’t realize how that was making everything worse.
They Were Selfish Dudes
Not being a stupid person, I never tried to extract the addict, after the truth came out about the problems, but if I could go back in time, I would certainly have done a few things to go after and disable the other kids who were using her as camouflage, and getting her beer on the sly.
The one major gap in my education as an owned object was how to let myself hurt bad people. I can, of course. I just don’t, almost ever. If I went back in time, I’d use my sneaky gossip skills to take apart the shitty methods those boys were using on that poor girl.
In other news, in my current book, Crikey has made friends with his uncle Max’s new husband, and they are bonding while waiting for the gang trial to run its course.
You’re reading Victor Poole, and I’m writing a science fiction romance about a wild-game hunter, a crime lord, and an alien girl with white, furry wings and a beautiful tail.