You hear the conversation fading behind your back as you go up to the next floor. You arrive at a narrow corridor with white walls and a dusty, greyish-red carpet that dampens the sound of your steps. It feels like it would swallow any noise… You notice a cheap gilded ornament at the outline of a door. This must be the entrance to the lodge or something. You carefully turn the doorknob. It squeaks anyway. Fuck. You push the door wide open and see that this is actually the main auditorium. A thousand faces turn tooward you as you step into the space. But all of the bodies are tied to their chairs and their mouths are stuffed. Okay, now you remember that you had a ticket... you just have to find it. Where is it, where is it, okay, maybe let’s check if there are empty spots… You can’t seem to find one.
Suddenly a woman in a black dress and the head of a fish steps toward you.
– Do not disturb the performance!

– I’m so sorry, I just can’t find my spot you see... – As you are searching through your pockets this fucked up mermaid lady grabs your upper arm and drags you to the side of row 7. It’s a quite aggressive movement.

– No, no, no, no need for that I can just... – You try to excuse yourself, but you are pushed into the chair and are now being strapped to it. 

- This is not…mmhfphmffmhhhmmmp! – The fish woman stuffs a piece of cloth into your mouth and turns your head in the direction of the stage.

You are now literally forced to watch a kind of terrible show. Two clowns hiding behind a table. A tall and a short one. At one point the shorter one fucks something up and they are accidentally visible at the same time. The tall one gets angry.

At this moment you become the short clown. Your tall clown partner reaches to your chest and pretends he is ripping your heart out. Weirdly, he does it for real. You don’t die, but you feel his hand penetrating your chest and tearing out something that feels like a little bird. 

Now he has your heart in his hands. It’s still beating. You look down at your chest and you see an anatomical heart-shaped scar tattoo there. So, now it’s 100% certain: the thing he is holding in his hand used to be your heart. 

You realize, that the pulsing object in his hand is a meatball.

A meatball.

A throbbing meatball.

He bites into it and eats it up...

You start to feel sick as you are watching this. An unbearable crying begins and a panic attack sweeps you off your feet. You collapse on the stage and burst into tears. This cannot be. Your heart couldn’t have been a meatball all this time!

But the feeling of sadness passes quickly and now you feel anger. Fuck this, all of it! The tall clown, the theatre, the fucking meatball heart too!
You stand up and clear off the tears from your face.


And walk off stage, but not in the usual way. You leave it through the auditorium. And as you are climbing past the audience, you recall why they’ve been so silent. Their mouths are stuffed.
– Please do not disturb the performance! – Says a fish-faced woman on your right, and you only care enough to come back with:
- Oh fuck off, Miss! – Then, noticing a door on the wall, you escape the auditorium.1