After watching a variety of shows in the human lands, Laika, Flatorte, and I flew out to the demon territories to do the same there. Once we were finished, we stopped at an inn, and I got right to work putting together a script.
We’d stopped in Vanzeld to visit a few different venues, and I’d considered asking Pecora to let us stay with her, but something about telling her we’d stopped by to study comedy and needed a room just felt really awkward to me, so I’d decided to go with an inn instead. That environment felt more appropriate for the job I had on my plate, too—it was a lot easier to think clearly in a simple environment like an inn than it was when you were a house guest.
I had to make use of Falfa’s and Shalsha’s distinctive traits, taking care to ensure that what I wrote would actually make their audience laugh as well.
That said, I had to be careful not to lean too heavily on jokes about them being twins, since that was the sort of gimmick that could get old quickly.
They’d be performing under a strict time limit, so I had to make sure that bits that would make the audience laugh—the punchlines, if you will—would come fast and frequently.
I also had to give the girls plenty of time to rehearse, so I needed to hash the script out as soon as possible.
I didn’t know what sort of jokes Falfa and Shalsha would be best at selling, so for the time being, I wanted to work with as wide a variety of material as I could.
✦ ✦ ✦
There was an awful lot that I had to keep in mind as I got to work writing the script. I was starting to think that Laika and Flatorte had a point: I really was taking this pretty seriously. It was all for the sake of my daughters, of course, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.
Part of me even wanted to pull an all-nighter, but I resisted the urge and went to bed at my usual time instead. That was one personal rule I wasn’t going to compromise on, especially since I knew that sometimes, resting up and coming back to your work the next day was a great way to prompt new ideas. Something about taking a bit of time off had a way of helping half-formed concepts mature, and I knew that if I tried to write the whole thing in one sitting, it wouldn’t turn out as well as it would’ve if I’d taken my time.
Scripts were like living creatures. Sometimes a line you wrote would give you a flash of inspiration that’d last the rest of the day, and sometimes a part that had been a roadblock the day before would come back to trip you up all over again. Even if you kept the broad concept of a script consistent all throughout the process, there were a countless number of little ways in which it could grow and change as you wrote.
Finally, I brought my study of comedy in the human and demon lands to a close and returned to the house in the highlands.
✦ ✦ ✦
The moment Laika, Flatorte, and I arrived back at the house in the highlands, Falfa and Shalsha rushed out to welcome us home.
“Falfa, Shalsha! Here’s your script!” I said, presenting the girls with a notebook. That notebook contained the fruit of my labors: a comedy script full of sketches and material that I’d done my absolute best on.
“Thank you, Mommy!” said Falfa.
“We’ll strive to do your manuscript justice,” added Shalsha.
That’s kind of a stiff way to say thank you, isn’t it? Though I guess that’s just like Shalsha, really.
“You should give it a read before you thank me. There’s always a chance that you won’t like it enough to want to use it, after all. No point in thanking me then,” I cautioned.
I didn’t think that the effort I put into the script would be rendered pointless, no matter what they thought of it, and if it turned out my best efforts had produced something low-quality, I certainly didn’t expect them to force themselves to use it. The whole point of the script, after all, was to make people laugh. Whether or not my efforts bore fruit had nothing whatsoever to do with the audience’s experience—all that mattered was whether they enjoyed it.
To make matters even more complicated, I knew there were all sorts of different ways to go about performing comedy. Whether or not my material was good and whether it would suit Falfa and Shalsha’s style were two totally different questions. If my script couldn’t make it past all those potential stumbling points, it would be totally useless to my daughters when the time came for them to perform.
Falfa and Shalsha opened up the script and started reading on the spot.
Oh wow, this is a little embarrassing… And it’s embarrassing in a sort of way I’ve never felt before. I’ve hugged and kissed my daughters in the open plenty of times, and the embarrassment of that was nothing compared to having them read my work!
“Um, could you maybe read that in your room, or something…?” I muttered hopefully.
“You know your script’s funny, right, Mommy? In that case, it’ll be just fine!” said Falfa.
“But we can’t ease our standards just because you’re our mom,” Shalsha countered. “Rest assured that we will be earnest and thorough in our assessment of your script.”
I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you cut me a little slack, but that’s definitely not something that I can come out and request.
Meanwhile, Laika and Flatorte walked right past the three of us and headed straight into the house in the highlands. I could’ve followed along after them and gone inside as well, but that would’ve made it look like I was running away from my daughters while they read my script, so I resisted the urge and just kept waiting.
Falfa and Shalsha were focused intently on the script, poring over page after page. They barely said a word as they read. It made for a pretty odd atmosphere all around, and I noticed that Sandra was giving us a weird look from over in the garden. No wonder she was curious, really—I would’ve stared, too, if I was in her position.
My script was, well, a script, so even though I’d written down a few different routines for Falfa and Shalsha, it didn’t take them that long to read through it all. Reading a script and reading a novel were two very different things. Still, to me, it felt like they’d been reading for an eternity.
I wish they’d hurry and tell me what they think. I wouldn’t even mind if they say it’s bad, as long as it means we can move on…
Finally, the two of them closed the notebook. They must have finished reading the last page. Falfa and Shalsha paused for a moment to give each other a look, then exchanged nods. They’d seemingly come to an immediate understanding.
“Mommy.”
“Mom.”
“Y-yes?!” I yelped. I felt like I was about to get feedback from my faculty advisor on my graduation thesis.
My daughters stepped forward and threw their arms around me.