Psyche is singing her hit song, “You’re Not My God.” The music is grungy, reminiscent of the band Nirvana. She spots Eros on the roof of the motel smiling at her. She loses her place in the song and just stands there, frustration flowing through her like the music just a moment before.
“You’re not my God, Eros!” She shouts and power chords her way to a shortened ending to the song.
“All right, you know what time it is! It’s time for the look-alike contest! I am told Jack Harrington is the person to look like!” Psyche gestures to the screen behind her, and a slightly blurry photo appears. She hands off the guitar to a roadie and takes a laser pointer in exchange.
Psyche twirls the laser pointer around, then shines it at the screen. “This is the person you are trying to identify.” She puts one hand on her hip and stares at the screen. The image is of Jack Harrington from the waist up. He looks to be in his late 50s with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. He has no beard or mustache, and his eyebrows are bushy. He has no visible scars. He is slightly overweight, and he wears a Hawaiian shirt.
Psyche stares at the screen for thirty seconds, and then the screen goes blank.
“Well, I guess that’s all the time we have to memorize his face! Rude,” Psyche says and turns around. “Older man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cold expression of having seen dark things behind a warm smile? Anyone seen anyone like that?” Psyche says.
Izzy looks at Jacob. “Wow, she nailed him.”
Sue squeaks, “No, he isn’t cold.” She protests the once comfortable being hugged tight to Izzy now becoming unpleasant; she squirms free and climbs on Izzy’s back.
“I don’t know; it always felt like he has seen some stuff.” Jacob responds, “a hard edge that if you’re not careful, you will run into and bruise.”
Sue splashes water at Jacob. “He is not.”
Jacob splashes back, splashing Izzy in the process. “I was there with the negotiations with the lizard-looking people. He has an edge as hard as diamond and no fear.”
Sue rubs her face on Izzy’s back. “I think you’re both nutty.”
On the stage, Psyche gestured to the crowd, “Let’s get our Jack Harringtons up on stage, shall we?” Psyche says as a group of people walk onto the stage, each of them looking like Jack Harrington. One of them is clearly a lizard folk; one of them is green and wearing two sashes. But the others are eerily similar.
There is a commotion as someone is pushed toward the stage. “Unhand me!” a voice shouts.
The crowd doesn’t listen; they force the Jack Harrington lookalike onto the stage, where he is soon lost in the shuffle.
“Well contestants!” Psyche walks down the row. “What is your name!”
In unison they all say “Jack Harrington,” and Psyche nods her head. “Good, good, that was an easy one.”
“Where were you born?” There is a long silence. And Psyche smiles warmly as a lizard person speaks up, “Pasadena, California.”
“Oooh, is that true, crowd? I have no idea.” Psyche says with a laugh.
There is silence from the crowd. “What? You’re telling me no one knows where he was born?” Psyche asks before turning back.
“Ok, fine, who knows what his favorite food is?”
All of the contestants except one shout “pizza.”
The one who didn’t shout was busy lighting a cigar and smirking happily.
“Oh boy, sir, what do you think his favorite food is?” Psyche asks.
“Oh, it’s stroganoff,” the look-alike says confidently.
“What do you think, crowd? Psyche asks, holding the mike toward the crowd.
The crowd boos at the look-alike still smoking. “What, it’s true,” the imitator says.
Green Harrington turns and tiskes at the smoking imitator, “It’s pizza. Why would you make a careless mistake like that?”
The other Harringtons nod.
Psyche smirks. “Well, well, well, ok, let’s try something different. Let’s get each of you to walk around the stage so everyone can see if you match his gait.”
The lizard person one moves very wrongly, and on viewing from his side, you can see his tail shoved in one pant leg. The crowd laughs.
The next Harrington is not much better. His movements were slow and cautious. “Why are you moving so slowly?” Psyche asks the imitator
“I am not moving slow; you’re just too fast,” the imitator says.
Psyche gives him a critical glance. “If you’re Jack Harrington and you know it, clap your hands!”
The slow-moving Jack Harrington looks at Psyche like she is mud. “I will not! I have to get back to work.”
The smoking Jack Harrington laughs. “Yes, let him go. He isn’t the real me anyway; he is wearing a hologram. That’s why he can’t move fast.” The man moves to the person and gives the imitator’s chest a gentle shove.
The imitator falls over, and their true form is revealed: it’s one of the lifeguards. “Bro, so not fair.” He stands up and walks to the edge of the pool before jumping in.
Psyche laughs. “Well, that’s one less contestant!”
Psyche looks at the look-alikes. “There is but one more test! Gentlemen, this here is a pizza, not just any pizza but the Jack Harrington special.” The roadie brings the pizza out and sets it on the table. “Gentlemen, we must wait 4:37 seconds before we can eat the pizza.”
“How dare you!” A voice from the middle of the crowd of Jack Harringtons shouts. “That’s too long; now is the time to eat the pizza.” The boisterous man pushes his way to the front and grabs a pizza slice. He bites into it, the hot cheese burning the roof of his mouth. “How dare you, Psyche? How dare you!”
The cigar-smoking Jack Harrington marches over and takes a slice. “Can’t be too hasty; got to let it cool at least a minute.”
The green Jack Harrington walks clumsily to the pizza and shoves a slice into the side of his head, where it floats inside him. “Pizza is not cake!” it says triumphantly.
The lizard Harrington looks at the pizza with disgust. “This pizza has been reheated; this is a trick!”
There is a gasp from the crowd as the lizard person walks away from the inferior pizza.
“Well, there you go, folks. Can you tell who the real Jack Harrington is?” She shoves the men into line. She stands before the indignant lizard folk, looking at Jack Harrington. “And do you think it is him?” The crowd cheers, but it’s subdued.
“You don’t think it’s him, huh?” She moves onto a generic-looking Jack Harrington. “What about this one, folks?”
There is subdued cheering, so she shrugs and moves on to Jack Harrington on his third slice of pizza. “Well, folks, how about this one?”
The crowd cheers loudly. There is one fact most people know about Jack Harrington, and that’s that he loves his pizza. “So it could be this one?” she asks, holding her hands apart questioningly.
Psyche moves on to the green one with a slice of pizza bubbling in his head. “Is anyone fooled by Dr. Blob?”
The crowd laughs, and Psyche gestures to the doctor. “Valiant try, but we know it’s you, Dr. Blob.”
“I am not; I am Jack Harrington!” the blobby one lies.
“And our final contestant, the smoking Jack Harrington!” Psyche puts the microphone in front of his face.
“How could you not tell?” The contestant says softly, “You really clapped for the version eating all the pizza?”
The crowd cheers loudly. Psyche steps back. “Well, folks, the votes are in. In first place we have the smoking Jack Harrington! Then we have the pizza-eating Jack Harrington! Then we have the lizard Jack Harrington! Then the generic Jack Harrington, and last but not least, Dr. Blob!”
There is a quiet laughter from the generic Jack Harrington. “You know, Grocho came second in a look-alike contest. I must be terrible; I came 4th.” The real Jack Harrington walks off stage.
The crowd gasps, then erupts into laughter.
“Now it’s time to reveal who you are!” Psyche demands.
The smoking Jack Harrington takes off a rubber mask and smiles; it was Marlon, his bodyguard.
Next the pizza-eating one looks confused. “This is who I am! I am Jack Harrington!” he says with confidence.
Marlon moves to the pizza Harrington and pulls on their mask, the silicone tearing and revealing gears and wires. “It’s an android!” Marlon shouts and pushes the imposter into the water. The water bubbles a few feet from Izzy, but soon the waters cool down.
“Don’t worry, folks, the staff is informing me that happens with some regularity.” Psyche moves onto the lizard folk, who take off their mask, and while the silicone mask was filled with expression, the face underneath is stoic. “Where is the child!” he demands.
“Yeah, I hear you,” Psyche says dismissively. There is a rumble from the lizard person. “You have 2 days, humans!” the lizard person shouts before the roadies pull him off the stage.
“All right, now that that is over,” Psyche says, pulling out a white sash and putting it over Marlon’s head. “Good job!”
She pulls out her guitar and finishes the track of “You’re Not My God” before waving to the crowd. “You have all been a delight, but it’s time I go get a drink and a shower. GOOD NIGHT. SEE YOU TOMORROW FOR THE CONCERT!”
There is a big pyrotechnics flash, and when the flash ends, Psyche is gone.
