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Chelsea Shops, by James Abbott McNeill Whistler
Robert L. Martin

Soaps

Ms. Miller lived in an old dilapidated rent controlled apartment just east of the theater district on West 44th St. in New York City. There were dirty old gaudy drapes that covered up the windows night and day. She had never seen the outside, just like her single mother never did. She was born and raised in the dark and never knew she had a biological father.
When her mother died, she left her with enough money to purchase a huge HD plasma TV that covered one whole side of her living room. The only signs of life she saw were through the TV. She was afraid to venture outside. An old friend of her mother brought her groceries up to the apartment for her.
Her favorite TV show was a soap opera called “Life Goes On.” Her favorite character was cute little Marjorie of 9 years old. She was playing hop scotch one day with her friends and was abducted and murdered by a character named Fred, who was played by Lance Bellows. Ms. Miller was so distraught; she couldn’t sleep for three days. She mourned the death of Marjorie and was plotting how to kill Fred, who was on the lam from the cops after he killed her.
Just then there was a knock on the door by a fireman, ordering everyone out of the building, because there was a gas leak inside somewhere. She wouldn’t leave, so the fireman had to drag her out of her apartment onto the street. She was cursing at him and wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. While she was out on the sidewalk, she saw Lance Bellows, the actor, looking to see what was going on.
“There’s the murderer!” she screamed. “Arrest that man for killing little Marjorie. He’s the culprit. Put him in prison for the rest of his days.” The cops didn’t know him, so they took Lance down to the police station for questioning. One of the interrogators recognized him, although. He laughed and said, “You dummies, that’s Lance Bellows the actor. My wife watches the soap opera every day. Little Marjorie is the character that his character murdered.” Everybody at the station started laughing except Ms. Miller who had thought the character Lance was Lance in real life. She kept screaming at the cops for letting him go home.
Fantasy is a pleasurable journey outside the realm of reality. Ms. Miller’s world was built around her as being her reality, since the only signs of life she saw was a fantasy world. Maybe that one experience at the police station woke her up to accept reality as the world that was presented to her that she must live in, but maybe she still won’t. Who knows?

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