Grand Guignol!

The audience grew hushed as the lights dimmed. The man in the red-lined silk cape strode forward. In his right hand was a cane. On his head, a top hat, and the rest of his outfit suggested he might be a magician. If so, he was a mad one.

His upper lip was graced by a mustache that was painted on. His face was a ghoulish shade of pancake white, and his eyes were ringed by black, the pupils glittering jewels in the footlights.

A single pool of light suddenly illuminated him. He raised his wand imperiously, and said, in a booming voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, you must prepare yourselves! Tonight, for the first but, we trust not the last time in your lives, you will look upon something that you will never see again for as long as you walk this Earth. Or, as Edgar Allan Poe called it, this 'damnid Earth.' Yes, well, Mr. Poe knew whereof he spoke, and tonight we shall see as much of the damned and demented as we shall ever hope to see again!

"Tell me: Are you the sort of people who crane your neck at the spectacle of an accident? Do you thrill to the sadistic descriptions in the Police Gazette of horrific, unexplained, bloody crime? Have you ever wondered, oh so innocently, what it might be like to watch someone die? And not only die but have their head severed unceremoniously from their body, which it is then rolled into a basket, perhaps then held up by the executioner for all to see. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you tonight, and for one night only, the spectacle of the execution of Marie Antoinette! Yes, yes, that heartless woman, who bled ice, who pronounced to the starving masses that they should "eat cake," or in other words, the ashes that cling to the walls of the ovens, AFTER the bread is baked--well, she lives on. But not for long. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: the Execution of Her Royal Highness, Sweet Marie, by the cruel, cutting blade of the French National Razor. Observe--"

And with that, he raised his wand, and stood to one side, and the spotlight suddenly revealed the presence of a table, attached to one end of which, was a Guillotine. And on the table, bedecked in the finest silk dress, her hands bound as she writhed, pleading her life, was "Marie", a hideous specter in white, with an amazing pompadour of hair, who could lift her face and see the audience in the well of darkness below.

Or, at any rate, they could see the glow of her eyes as the tears streamed from her face.

"Oh, I beg you," she implored, "do spare me! For the love of God, I have never done any wrong to anyone! I never spoke a single word they say I said! This is all some horrible mistake!"

"Quiet!" roared the Magician "Reap the rewards you so callously heaped upon the heads of others during your short, cruel existence. Now, without further ado, if I may so kindly implore your silence, ladies and gentlemen, we will commence the execution. If I may implore, eh, drumroll please?"

And a lightning-fast staccato rhythm erupted from the concert pit. A shadowy shape in a hood could be seen suddenly, holding a length of rope.

"Marie Antoinette," said the Magician, "I do hereby sentence you, for crimes against the people of Franc, to DEATH! May God have mercy on your soul!"

And with that, he brought the wand down and exclaimed, "Now!"

The blade flashed downward. The figure bound to the table screamed. Her head plopped from her body, leaving only the bloody, severed stump of her neck dripping into the wicker basket below. Someone in the audience screamed; women fanned themselves, growing faint.

"Restraint!" cried the Magician. 'Please, I beg you, restraint!" And he thrust one gloved hand into the wicker basket.

HE grasped something by the hair. He pulled it up toward himself. He held it up for all to see. He had ahold of it by the hair. It was Marie Antoinette's severed, dripping head, with ragged gore hanging in bloodied strings from her neck. The eyes were twin moons of shock.

Suddenly, the eyes darted about. The jaw twitched, the tongue lolle in the mouth, and the jaws began to work.

"Marie," asked the Magician, kindly. "Marie, how are you feeling?"

There was a gargling sound as if she were choking on blood. And then, suddenly: "DDamn you!" exclaimed the severed head. "I should have known it would be you! You always wanted to get ahead in life!"

And the audience groaned. The Magician laughed, threw the head into the darkness below, and the crowd stood in their seats, backing away, to get away from it. The applause was deafening, the orchestra played a concluding number, and this was only ONE night at Le Grand Guignol, the "Theater of Horrors."

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