Method Madness

Looking into the mirror he realizes, the face he sees is that of his character and not his own.
“How in the world, did I get here? I can’t even remember where all the red came from on my clothes.” Flashes of memories like scenes from a movie play repeatedly in his head. “I can’t even tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.”

The image smiles, the wide antagonistic smile of the character he is portraying. “Isn’t it so like me to talk to myself? I’m so funny it’s amazing I’m an actor and not a comedian.”

A disembodied voice echoes through the room, “Ten minutes until we start rolling.”

“Oh god, I thought we already shot the scene. I have to change. That can’t be human blood; it has to be whatever makeup is using for the film. What did they say it was…pig’s blood?”

The leading lady watches as he arrives on the set. Her eyes widen as she sees the mess he has become. Her fear for him is evident in her eyes. Method acting is dangerous thing especially, while playing a killer.

The take is perfect, and they finish in record time. The maid had the room cleaned by the time he got back. All traces of the clothes he had on are gone. He flips on the TV and heads to the shower; beat from the rough emotions of the character he is playing. The mirror is now his enemy, something he does not want to see. He rushes through the shower. While he is wrapping the towel around himself, he catches a snippet of the newscast.

“We are here at the latest murder scene.”

A panic sets into his mind and the reporter’s voice buzzes in the background as his mind spins in infinite loops reliving vivid scenes. The scenes so bizarre he cannot tell if they are from his movie or something else, something his mind tries to block out, something that cannot be real.

“The police are NOT releasing any information. Though sources have reported seeing what they thought was someone resembling the Comic-Book villain ‘The Joker’ leaving the premises shortly after midnight last night.”

Before he can get up and shut off the TV, the voice in his head is back. “Ain’t that a load! They think they saw... Thought I looked like... What are these people blind? What do I have to do sign my name?”

He grabs his head. “No! What have I become? This can’t be real. It’s not real. This is just some big joke. Someone from the cast is playing a joke on me. I have to sleep." He lies down on the bed and reality slips just ever so slightly.

“Whew, I really need to get some new deodorant.” He throws the towel to the side and grabs the can from the front of the mirror. He whistles a merry tune tonelessly while he dresses and then heads out the door.

His bodyguard grins at him. “What’s on the agenda for tonight? “

“Well, my man, I think you need a night off, what do you think?”

“I’m not sure that is wise. You know with some crazy butcher pretending to be your character.”

“Oh, but are you sure it’s not me?”

“Of course I am. You never left my side last night. It could not have been you.”

“You’re such a scream. I think perhaps I’ll stay in. I just came out to give you a night off. No need to worry about me I’ll be locked in my room tonight.”

“If you insist. Sure… I could use a night off. Thanks, and I hope they catch that killer.”

He closes the door, reality leaking into his mind. He knows what will happen. As he looks into the mirror the wicked smile coming back to his face, he grabs the hat on his right and slips it on his head. The rest of the world goes black.

Smiles, laughs and lots of red that is all he remembers as he sits up in his bed. Looking down at his hands he notices, that the red is still there. Could that be blood? It couldn’t be, it had to be the stuff they used in makeup, but he’s not sure. He jumps up and runs to the mirror. He is in full character dress. He knows, he did not sleep.

"God, I have to get some sleep." He grabs the bottle off the table, shakes a couple of pills into his hand, and swallows them. The glass of water in his hands shakes so violently that he spills most of the water before drops the glass on the floor, in his attempt to put it back on the table. He stumbles into the bathroom and looks into the mirror, he scrubs his face and hands until they are deep red and near bleeding. Yet, he never feels completely clean.

Every inch of his body is exhausted, though his mind keeps replaying a gruesome scenes. Could he be remembering something he did? He can’t tell if he is remembering the script or something else entirely. He grabs his prescription bottle, and takes a few more pills. Finally, he lays down positive his body will not betray him again this night.


*******************The morning light spills in across the bed.***************************

The bodyguard beats on the door. “Sir?”

After another thirty minutes time they bring in a second, key and open the door.

Written on the mirror, in thick dark red letters are the words ‘What a Joke’. The actor lies smiling up through unseeing eyes.