They hired Bill to write a song about what had happened to Anne. They hired Samuel to write a play about what had happened to Lucille. They hired Ken to interview Kristen and pass a summary of his reporting on to Anders, who would be starring in a film that fictionalized her life, though Ken would change the setting from Missouri to Gstaad and Anders, in turn, would change the corrupt organization whose deviltry powered the plot from Housewares–Retail to the Snow Bike Club. Jean, who was in the midst of designing the world’s first fully automated mine, got the call from Kristen, who was so angry that her tears sizzled as they hit the phone. “You’re my third call today,” Jean said. “Lucille was cursing up a storm. Effing play this. Em-effing theater that.” Kristen asked after Anne, who was always the best of them, always the coolest head, always the clearest strategist. “Oh ho,” Jean laughed. “Come on now,” Kristen said. “Tell me.” She begged Jean to end the suspense. Panic hoisted her voice to the brink of a shriek. She needed to know that Anne had handled matters with her customary sangfroid. “I am sorry to report the precise mathematical opposite,” Jean said. “She was on video and I could see her knuckles like whitecaps along the top of her fist. If we were in an Old West saloon, she would have been smashing bottles 'til dawn” The song, released in summer, was a chart-topping tale of one man’s struggle to overcome privation and cruelty: a real weeper.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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