A BLEARY OLD MIRACLE WORKER...( A SATIRE)
A BLEARY OLD MIRACLE WORKER
[An adaptation of Tope Folarin’s “Miracle”]
ACT ONE, SCENE 1
A church setting, Indiana, America. The altar is decorated with different colour of linen clothes, with sits arranged hierarchically according to the different positions of the pastoral council in the church. Soft gospel music emanates from one side of the altar, as the organist strikes away on the different keys on the piano. Heads move simultaneously to the tune as the congregation engages itself in a solemn adoration to God.
A tall svelte man strides purposefully down the aisle to the pulpit. Once there, he raises both hands, then lowers them slightly, raises his chin and says:
Pastor Greg: let us pray; dear father, we come to you today, on the occasion of this revival, and we ask that you bless us abundantly, we who have made it to America, because we know we are here for a reason. We ask for your blessing because we know we are not here alone, each of us represents dozens, sometimes hundreds of people back home. So many lives depend on us, Lord, and the burden on our shoulder is great. Jesus, bless this service and bless us. We ask that we will not be the same people at the end of the service as we were at the beginning. All this we ask of you, our dear savior, Amen.
The pastor sits; the organist bolts suddenly from the front row to the piano and begins to play. Some section of the congregation finds this amusing and begins to laugh…
Mr. Black: a hell lot of spirits hauling in that one.
MRS BLACK: damn it Jay! Shut up and sing to the Lord, the Holy Spirit is moving.
The music seems familiar and at the same time new to the congregation; the band leader punches up a pre-programmed beat on the cheap electronic piano and plays a few Nigerian gospel songs to get them in the mood for revival. The congregations sing along, though they have to wait a few moments at the beginning of each song to figure out what he is playing. They sing ‘joyful songs to the Lord’, then ‘Redemption song’, and then ‘songs of hope’, hope that tomorrow will be better than today, hope that one day soon, their lives will begin to resemble the dreams that brought them to America.
The pastor stands and prays over the congregation once again…
MR. BLACK: like hell I’m growing restless Jennie, the prayer is heading towards the White House, aint no terrorist.
MRS. BLACK:[frowning] young man! I’on give no damn about your restless state, ’cause you are always restless. Get ya old body and lie down somewhere will ya…
The pastor’s prayer was so insistent, so sincere that his words emerge from the dark chrysalis of his mouth as bright as fluttering prophecies. In the hearts of the infirm, they stopped asking if and begin wondering when their deeply held wishes will come true. After much sweating and cajoling, the pastor shouts a defiant Amen and the congregation echo his defiance as loud as their voices could carry them.
PASTOR GREG: now… let’s welcome our prophet, the servant of God, who knows and sees everything. Rev. Ndula the great!
The pastor points to the back of the church; they follow the line of his finger with their eyes. There was a short old man hunched over in the back, two men on either space. They’ve seen the old man before, in this very space. They’ve seen him perform miracles that they thought previously only possible in the pages of bibles. They’ve seen him command the infirm to be well, the crippled to walk, the poor to become wealthy. Even those who are new, who know nothing of him, can sense the power emanating from him.
A man stood up amidst the people and acts as the spokesman for the congregation…while his son plays with his thick lenses.
MR. HARRINGTON: we have come from all over North Texas to see the prophet, some of us have come from Oklahoma, some from Arkansas, a few of us from Louisiana and a couple from New Mexico. We own his books, his tapes, his holy water, his anointing oil. We know that he is an instrument of God’s will, and have come because we need miracles.
We need jobs, we need good grades, we need green cards, we need American passports. We need our parents to understand that we are Americans. We need our children to understand they are Nigerians. We need new kidney, new lungs, new limbs, new hearts. We need to forget the harsh rigidity of our lives, to remember why we believe ourselves to be beloved, and to hope.
The crowd murmur as two men help the prophet to the front, in this charged atmosphere, everything about him makes sense, even the irony of his blindness, his inability to see the wonders that God performs through his hand.
When the old man reaches the pulpit, his attendants turn him around so he is facing the crowd. He is nearly bald, a few white hairs cling precariously to the sides of his shining head- and he is wearing a large pair of black sunglasses. A bulky white robe falls from his neck to the floor. Beneath, he is wearing a flowing white agbada.
He remains quiet for a few moments- they can feel the anticipation building, breath by breath, in the air. He smiles the he begins to hum, a hunting, discordant melody. The bandleader tries to find the tune among the keys on his piano, but the old man slaps the air and the bandleader allows the searching music to die. Suddenly, he turn to the left and points to a space somewhere on the ceiling;
P. NDULA: I DEMAND YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE [he screams and the crowd become aware that there is something malevolent in their midst. They search the area his sightless eyes are probing, somewhere in the open space above their heads. They can’t see anything, but they raise their voices in response to the prophet’s call. Soon their voices are a cacophonous stew of Yoruba and English, shouting and singing, spitting and humming, and the prophet from Nigeria speaks once more]:
We must continue to pray, ladies and gentlemen! There are forces here that do not wish for this to be a successful service. If we are successful in our prayers, that means they have failed! They do not wish to fail, so we cannot expect sour prayer will simply come true, we must fight!
[ the crowd became engulf in a powerful prayer session, until one cannot distinguish his voice from the other. After several long minutes, the prophet finally raises his hands]
We are finished, it is done.
The crowd begins to celebrate. But the celebration lacks conviction as the people haven’t yet received what they came for.
The prophet sways to the bit of their tepid praise. The man on his left stands and dabs his forehead. The prophet clears his throat and reaches forward for the microphone.
REV. NDULA: I have been in the US for two months now. I have been to New York, to Delaware, to Philadelphia, to Washington, to Florida, to Atlanta, to Minnesota, to Kansas, to Oklahoma, and now, finally, I have arrived here.
[ the crowd cheers loudly]
I will visit Houston and San Antonio before I leave here, and then I will go to Nevada, and then California. I will travel all over this country for the next month, visiting Nigerians across this great land. But I feel in my spirit that the most powerful blessings will happen here.
The people hugged each other, for his words are confirmation of the feelings they’ve been carrying within themselves since the beginning of the service..
The reason I’m saying that the most powerful blessing will here is because God has told me that you have been the most faithful of His flock here in US. You haven’t forgot your people back home, you haven’t forgot your parents and siblings who sent you here, who pray for you everyday. You have remained discipline and industrious in this place, the land of temptation. And for all your hardwork, for your faithfulness, God is going to reward you today.
A section of the crowd raised their hand in praise to the father, while others begin to weep with happiness.
But in order for your blessing to be complete, you will have to pray today like you’ve never prayed before. You will have to believe today like you’ve never believed before. The only barrier to your blessing is the threshold of your believe.
The prophet begins to cough, on his right hand, a man rushes forward with a handkerchief. He places it in the prophet’s hand and the prophet coughs into it for a few seconds and then wipes his mouth. The people wait patiently for him to recover.
[he laughs].. I am an old man now, you will have to excuse me, just pray for me! And I will continue to pray for you too. And becau8se you have been faithful, God will continue to bless you, he will anoint you, he will appoint you.
Now, God is telling me that there is someone here, who is struggling with something big, a handicap that has lasted for many many years.
The crowd falls quiet, because they know he is talking about them…
He is telling me that you have been suffering in silence with this problem, and that you have come to accept the problem as part of yourself.
The purpose of my presence in your midst is to let you know that you should no longer accept the bad things that have become normal in your lives. America is trying to teach you to accept your failures, your setbacks. Now is the time to reject them! To claim the success that is rightfully yours.
His sunglasses fall from his face, and the people could see the brilliant white orbs quivering frantically in their sockets, two full moons that have forgotten their roles in the drama of the universe. His attendants lunge to the floor to recover them, and together they place the glasses back on his ancient face. The prophet continues as if nothing has happened.
I do not perform the miracles because I wish to be celebrated, I perform them because God works through me and has given me the grace to do so. Now God is telling me, you, come up here… yes, YOU! You ! you! Come up here!
They begin to walk forward shyly, slowly, gradually one man separates himself from the crowd unconsciously and he continues to move forward till he gets to the aisle, standing before the blind old man pointing at him.
You, young man, come here. Come up here for your miracle.
Ronald just stood there,feels something red bubbling within him, he stood there as the prophet points at him. Someone pushes him, forcing him to the front, giving him little time to wrap his unbelief and tuck it away.
The prophet moves closely and places a hand on top of his head. He presses down until he is kneeling before him. He rocks his head back and forth.
Young man, you have great things ahead of you, but I can sense that something is ailing you. There is , some disease, some disorder that has colonize your body and it is threatening to colonize your soul. Tell me, are you having problem breathing?
Ronald was surprised at his indirect reference to his asthma. But doubts are bombarding him from every direction now. He was wondering maybe he can hear him wheezing, he always finds it difficult to breathe when he is nervous, and he is certainly nervous now.
RONALD: yes sir. [ he replied.]
REV. NDULA: ah, you do not need to confirm, I now have a fix on your soul, and the Holy Spirit is telling me about the healings you need. [ he brushes his finger down his face, and his glasses fall to the ground. Everything becomes dim.]
How long have you been wearing glasses my son?
RONALD: since I was five sir.
REV. NDULA: and tell me, how bad is your vision?
[really bad. I have the thickest lenses in school, the kind that makes my eyes seem like two giant fish floating in blurry separate ponds.
RONALD: it’s bad sir.
The prophet removes his hand from his head and thrashes around for the microphone…
REV. NDULA: as you guys can see, I know a little about eye problems; and no one, not even this young man should be wearing glasses that are so thick! [ the congregation whispered ‘yes prophet’]
I can already tell that you have become too comfortable with your handicap, and that is one of the main problems in this country. Handicaps have become normal here, people accept that they damage in some fashion, and instead of asking God to intervene, they accept the fact that they are broken. [heads nod in response]
Let me tell you something. He continues, sweating profusely, some of it dribbles onto Ronald’s head, his scalp burns… God gives us these ailments so that we are humbled, so that we are forced to build a relationship with him. That is why all of us, in some way or another are damaged. And the reason y they have come to accept handicaps in this country is because these Americans do not want to build a relationship with God. They want to remain forever disconnected from his grace. And you can already see what is happening to this country.
So now, I’m going to ask god to heal this young man who has become accustom to his deformity. But before I touch you, before I ask the Holy Spirit to do his work, I must as you before everyone here, are you ready for your miracle? Are you ready? he asks again, and people waits for Ronald’s response with anxiety…
RONALD: I’m ready…Amen!
REV. NDULA: my son, you are ready to receive your gift from God.
His two attendant rushes from his side, drag me to my feet, and bring me down to the floor. One positions himself next to me, the other behind me. He stood there with his arms extended before him.
This is going to be a big miracle! Please, bring me to the boy.
The prophet appears only few inches taller than Ronald, his hot breath causes his eyes to water…the prophet suddenly removes his sunglasses and stare intently at the boy, this makes him uncomfortable and he shifts slightly to the right ,and his face follows.
Do not be afraid, I can see you through my spiritual eyes, and after this miracle, if you are a diligent Christian, you will be able to do the same.
Before Ronald could respond, his right hand shoots forward and he pressed Ronald’s temples, he stumbles backwards but maintain his balance. He turned to gaze at all the people infront of him, and though he cant see individual faces, he manage to separate his brother from the masses because his presence is the only one in the room that seems to match his own. They seem both confused, but their confusion isn’t laced with fear.
The prophet pressed his temple again and again, but he manage to maintain his balance.
The spirit of bad sight is very strong in him, it wont let go! This healing will require special Holy Ghost healing power. Come take my robe! The attendant pulls the robe from his back, and the prophet stands before Ronald in even less imposing form…
While I am working on this spirit, everyone in this room must pray. You must pray that I will receive the power I need to overcome this spirit within him! [ the people begins to pray] that is very good!
The prophet steps forward, blows in his eyes, and then rubs his temple again until he fell backward. The attendant behind him ease him to the floor. Ronald finally understand what is going on, he remain on the floor while he allows the attendant to cover him with white sheet… the prophet starts clapping, after few minutes, the prophet stops clapping and said;
It is finished, pick the young man up…wait, not yet, it is too soon, and young man, keep your eyes closed.
After few minutes of prayer, the prophet yelled into Ronald’s ear; open your eyes!
RONALD: I can see!
REV. NDULA: we must test his eyes, just to make sure. We have to confirm that he can see. so the doubters in the world can know that God’s work is real.
One of his attendants walks a few feet in front Ronald and holds up a few fingers. He squints and lean forward and pray he gets it right.
RONALD: three! He yells, the crowd cheers more loudly than before Four! He screams, and the cheers themselves gain sentience
ONE!... he cries, and the mouths open again, to give birth to new species of joy.
[An adaptation of Tope Folarin’s “Miracle”]
ACT ONE, SCENE 1
A church setting, Indiana, America. The altar is decorated with different colour of linen clothes, with sits arranged hierarchically according to the different positions of the pastoral council in the church. Soft gospel music emanates from one side of the altar, as the organist strikes away on the different keys on the piano. Heads move simultaneously to the tune as the congregation engages itself in a solemn adoration to God.
A tall svelte man strides purposefully down the aisle to the pulpit. Once there, he raises both hands, then lowers them slightly, raises his chin and says:
Pastor Greg: let us pray; dear father, we come to you today, on the occasion of this revival, and we ask that you bless us abundantly, we who have made it to America, because we know we are here for a reason. We ask for your blessing because we know we are not here alone, each of us represents dozens, sometimes hundreds of people back home. So many lives depend on us, Lord, and the burden on our shoulder is great. Jesus, bless this service and bless us. We ask that we will not be the same people at the end of the service as we were at the beginning. All this we ask of you, our dear savior, Amen.
The pastor sits; the organist bolts suddenly from the front row to the piano and begins to play. Some section of the congregation finds this amusing and begins to laugh…
Mr. Black: a hell lot of spirits hauling in that one.
MRS BLACK: damn it Jay! Shut up and sing to the Lord, the Holy Spirit is moving.
The music seems familiar and at the same time new to the congregation; the band leader punches up a pre-programmed beat on the cheap electronic piano and plays a few Nigerian gospel songs to get them in the mood for revival. The congregations sing along, though they have to wait a few moments at the beginning of each song to figure out what he is playing. They sing ‘joyful songs to the Lord’, then ‘Redemption song’, and then ‘songs of hope’, hope that tomorrow will be better than today, hope that one day soon, their lives will begin to resemble the dreams that brought them to America.
The pastor stands and prays over the congregation once again…
MR. BLACK: like hell I’m growing restless Jennie, the prayer is heading towards the White House, aint no terrorist.
MRS. BLACK:[frowning] young man! I’on give no damn about your restless state, ’cause you are always restless. Get ya old body and lie down somewhere will ya…
The pastor’s prayer was so insistent, so sincere that his words emerge from the dark chrysalis of his mouth as bright as fluttering prophecies. In the hearts of the infirm, they stopped asking if and begin wondering when their deeply held wishes will come true. After much sweating and cajoling, the pastor shouts a defiant Amen and the congregation echo his defiance as loud as their voices could carry them.
PASTOR GREG: now… let’s welcome our prophet, the servant of God, who knows and sees everything. Rev. Ndula the great!
The pastor points to the back of the church; they follow the line of his finger with their eyes. There was a short old man hunched over in the back, two men on either space. They’ve seen the old man before, in this very space. They’ve seen him perform miracles that they thought previously only possible in the pages of bibles. They’ve seen him command the infirm to be well, the crippled to walk, the poor to become wealthy. Even those who are new, who know nothing of him, can sense the power emanating from him.
A man stood up amidst the people and acts as the spokesman for the congregation…while his son plays with his thick lenses.
MR. HARRINGTON: we have come from all over North Texas to see the prophet, some of us have come from Oklahoma, some from Arkansas, a few of us from Louisiana and a couple from New Mexico. We own his books, his tapes, his holy water, his anointing oil. We know that he is an instrument of God’s will, and have come because we need miracles.
We need jobs, we need good grades, we need green cards, we need American passports. We need our parents to understand that we are Americans. We need our children to understand they are Nigerians. We need new kidney, new lungs, new limbs, new hearts. We need to forget the harsh rigidity of our lives, to remember why we believe ourselves to be beloved, and to hope.
The crowd murmur as two men help the prophet to the front, in this charged atmosphere, everything about him makes sense, even the irony of his blindness, his inability to see the wonders that God performs through his hand.
When the old man reaches the pulpit, his attendants turn him around so he is facing the crowd. He is nearly bald, a few white hairs cling precariously to the sides of his shining head- and he is wearing a large pair of black sunglasses. A bulky white robe falls from his neck to the floor. Beneath, he is wearing a flowing white agbada.
He remains quiet for a few moments- they can feel the anticipation building, breath by breath, in the air. He smiles the he begins to hum, a hunting, discordant melody. The bandleader tries to find the tune among the keys on his piano, but the old man slaps the air and the bandleader allows the searching music to die. Suddenly, he turn to the left and points to a space somewhere on the ceiling;
P. NDULA: I DEMAND YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE [he screams and the crowd become aware that there is something malevolent in their midst. They search the area his sightless eyes are probing, somewhere in the open space above their heads. They can’t see anything, but they raise their voices in response to the prophet’s call. Soon their voices are a cacophonous stew of Yoruba and English, shouting and singing, spitting and humming, and the prophet from Nigeria speaks once more]:
We must continue to pray, ladies and gentlemen! There are forces here that do not wish for this to be a successful service. If we are successful in our prayers, that means they have failed! They do not wish to fail, so we cannot expect sour prayer will simply come true, we must fight!
[ the crowd became engulf in a powerful prayer session, until one cannot distinguish his voice from the other. After several long minutes, the prophet finally raises his hands]
We are finished, it is done.
The crowd begins to celebrate. But the celebration lacks conviction as the people haven’t yet received what they came for.
The prophet sways to the bit of their tepid praise. The man on his left stands and dabs his forehead. The prophet clears his throat and reaches forward for the microphone.
REV. NDULA: I have been in the US for two months now. I have been to New York, to Delaware, to Philadelphia, to Washington, to Florida, to Atlanta, to Minnesota, to Kansas, to Oklahoma, and now, finally, I have arrived here.
[ the crowd cheers loudly]
I will visit Houston and San Antonio before I leave here, and then I will go to Nevada, and then California. I will travel all over this country for the next month, visiting Nigerians across this great land. But I feel in my spirit that the most powerful blessings will happen here.
The people hugged each other, for his words are confirmation of the feelings they’ve been carrying within themselves since the beginning of the service..
The reason I’m saying that the most powerful blessing will here is because God has told me that you have been the most faithful of His flock here in US. You haven’t forgot your people back home, you haven’t forgot your parents and siblings who sent you here, who pray for you everyday. You have remained discipline and industrious in this place, the land of temptation. And for all your hardwork, for your faithfulness, God is going to reward you today.
A section of the crowd raised their hand in praise to the father, while others begin to weep with happiness.
But in order for your blessing to be complete, you will have to pray today like you’ve never prayed before. You will have to believe today like you’ve never believed before. The only barrier to your blessing is the threshold of your believe.
The prophet begins to cough, on his right hand, a man rushes forward with a handkerchief. He places it in the prophet’s hand and the prophet coughs into it for a few seconds and then wipes his mouth. The people wait patiently for him to recover.
[he laughs].. I am an old man now, you will have to excuse me, just pray for me! And I will continue to pray for you too. And becau8se you have been faithful, God will continue to bless you, he will anoint you, he will appoint you.
Now, God is telling me that there is someone here, who is struggling with something big, a handicap that has lasted for many many years.
The crowd falls quiet, because they know he is talking about them…
He is telling me that you have been suffering in silence with this problem, and that you have come to accept the problem as part of yourself.
The purpose of my presence in your midst is to let you know that you should no longer accept the bad things that have become normal in your lives. America is trying to teach you to accept your failures, your setbacks. Now is the time to reject them! To claim the success that is rightfully yours.
His sunglasses fall from his face, and the people could see the brilliant white orbs quivering frantically in their sockets, two full moons that have forgotten their roles in the drama of the universe. His attendants lunge to the floor to recover them, and together they place the glasses back on his ancient face. The prophet continues as if nothing has happened.
I do not perform the miracles because I wish to be celebrated, I perform them because God works through me and has given me the grace to do so. Now God is telling me, you, come up here… yes, YOU! You ! you! Come up here!
They begin to walk forward shyly, slowly, gradually one man separates himself from the crowd unconsciously and he continues to move forward till he gets to the aisle, standing before the blind old man pointing at him.
You, young man, come here. Come up here for your miracle.
Ronald just stood there,feels something red bubbling within him, he stood there as the prophet points at him. Someone pushes him, forcing him to the front, giving him little time to wrap his unbelief and tuck it away.
The prophet moves closely and places a hand on top of his head. He presses down until he is kneeling before him. He rocks his head back and forth.
Young man, you have great things ahead of you, but I can sense that something is ailing you. There is , some disease, some disorder that has colonize your body and it is threatening to colonize your soul. Tell me, are you having problem breathing?
Ronald was surprised at his indirect reference to his asthma. But doubts are bombarding him from every direction now. He was wondering maybe he can hear him wheezing, he always finds it difficult to breathe when he is nervous, and he is certainly nervous now.
RONALD: yes sir. [ he replied.]
REV. NDULA: ah, you do not need to confirm, I now have a fix on your soul, and the Holy Spirit is telling me about the healings you need. [ he brushes his finger down his face, and his glasses fall to the ground. Everything becomes dim.]
How long have you been wearing glasses my son?
RONALD: since I was five sir.
REV. NDULA: and tell me, how bad is your vision?
[really bad. I have the thickest lenses in school, the kind that makes my eyes seem like two giant fish floating in blurry separate ponds.
RONALD: it’s bad sir.
The prophet removes his hand from his head and thrashes around for the microphone…
REV. NDULA: as you guys can see, I know a little about eye problems; and no one, not even this young man should be wearing glasses that are so thick! [ the congregation whispered ‘yes prophet’]
I can already tell that you have become too comfortable with your handicap, and that is one of the main problems in this country. Handicaps have become normal here, people accept that they damage in some fashion, and instead of asking God to intervene, they accept the fact that they are broken. [heads nod in response]
Let me tell you something. He continues, sweating profusely, some of it dribbles onto Ronald’s head, his scalp burns… God gives us these ailments so that we are humbled, so that we are forced to build a relationship with him. That is why all of us, in some way or another are damaged. And the reason y they have come to accept handicaps in this country is because these Americans do not want to build a relationship with God. They want to remain forever disconnected from his grace. And you can already see what is happening to this country.
So now, I’m going to ask god to heal this young man who has become accustom to his deformity. But before I touch you, before I ask the Holy Spirit to do his work, I must as you before everyone here, are you ready for your miracle? Are you ready? he asks again, and people waits for Ronald’s response with anxiety…
RONALD: I’m ready…Amen!
REV. NDULA: my son, you are ready to receive your gift from God.
His two attendant rushes from his side, drag me to my feet, and bring me down to the floor. One positions himself next to me, the other behind me. He stood there with his arms extended before him.
This is going to be a big miracle! Please, bring me to the boy.
The prophet appears only few inches taller than Ronald, his hot breath causes his eyes to water…the prophet suddenly removes his sunglasses and stare intently at the boy, this makes him uncomfortable and he shifts slightly to the right ,and his face follows.
Do not be afraid, I can see you through my spiritual eyes, and after this miracle, if you are a diligent Christian, you will be able to do the same.
Before Ronald could respond, his right hand shoots forward and he pressed Ronald’s temples, he stumbles backwards but maintain his balance. He turned to gaze at all the people infront of him, and though he cant see individual faces, he manage to separate his brother from the masses because his presence is the only one in the room that seems to match his own. They seem both confused, but their confusion isn’t laced with fear.
The prophet pressed his temple again and again, but he manage to maintain his balance.
The spirit of bad sight is very strong in him, it wont let go! This healing will require special Holy Ghost healing power. Come take my robe! The attendant pulls the robe from his back, and the prophet stands before Ronald in even less imposing form…
While I am working on this spirit, everyone in this room must pray. You must pray that I will receive the power I need to overcome this spirit within him! [ the people begins to pray] that is very good!
The prophet steps forward, blows in his eyes, and then rubs his temple again until he fell backward. The attendant behind him ease him to the floor. Ronald finally understand what is going on, he remain on the floor while he allows the attendant to cover him with white sheet… the prophet starts clapping, after few minutes, the prophet stops clapping and said;
It is finished, pick the young man up…wait, not yet, it is too soon, and young man, keep your eyes closed.
After few minutes of prayer, the prophet yelled into Ronald’s ear; open your eyes!
RONALD: I can see!
REV. NDULA: we must test his eyes, just to make sure. We have to confirm that he can see. so the doubters in the world can know that God’s work is real.
One of his attendants walks a few feet in front Ronald and holds up a few fingers. He squints and lean forward and pray he gets it right.
RONALD: three! He yells, the crowd cheers more loudly than before Four! He screams, and the cheers themselves gain sentience
ONE!... he cries, and the mouths open again, to give birth to new species of joy.
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