Prologue
"Maybe if you talked about it, whatever's
bothering you would go away," Sam suggested.
"Go away?!" Ivy repeated with shock. "Trust me,
nothing will make this go away."
"What's bothering you so much?" Sam asked again.
"Dammit, Sam! Get the hell away from me and just
leave me alone!" she cried, the tears starting to fall again.
He sighed, not wanting to turn away from her.
"Just one question."
Ivy rolled her eyes. "What now?"
"What made you give me up?"
Now it was her turn to sigh. "You love Grace.
Enough said. Now please, just go away."
Sam turned around and began walking away from
her. Unfortunately, he didn't see the large beam right ahead of him. He heard
Ivy yell, "Sam, watch out!" to him and then everything went black…
As if things couldn't get any worse, an
unconscious man crashed through his ceiling. The man looked eerily familiar to
Sam. "Luis?" Sam moved closer to the man and shook him. "Luis? What are you
doing here?"
"Oh no, he did it again!" Another man, a dwarf
dressed as a nun appeared at Sam's door. "Timmy's sorry for the inconvenience.
Luis is always falling asleep at the most inappropriate times."
"Aren't you Tabitha's doll?" Sam asked in
disbelief.
"No, I'm Henri Timmy-Lautrec," the dwarf said
and extended his hand. "Timmy's never heard of any Tabitha."
"Timmy, how is he?" Three men appeared at the
top of the hole in the ceiling. They looked familiar as well.
"Hank? Miguel? Ethan?" Sam was extremely confused
and his head hurt like a beast.
"Luis's fine," Timmy told them.
"Who's going to read his part in the play now?"
the one who looked like Hank asked.
All eyes went to Sam.
"The hills are vital with the noise of singing…"
Timmy sang. To Sam, and it appeared the rest of the group, the song didn't
quite make sense or seem to fit.
"Cut!" the Ethan lookalike yelled. "This isn't
working."
"Well, what does Ethan want Timmy to sing?"
Timmy asked, fed up with the interruptions.
"The hills—" Sam started as the group began
to argue.
"The mountains are vigorous with the chords-"
Miguel suggested.
"The hills—" Sam tried again, but no one
was listening.
"No!" Hank shouted. "The uplands are energetic
with the tone of melodies!"
The group began to shout at each other as Sam
remained on the stool, eager to get his idea out to everyone else.
"The hills are alive with the sound of music,"
Sam sang in a projected, rich baritone that got the men's attention.
Hank, Ethan, Timmy and Miguel looked at each
other and nodded. "Timmy likes it," Timmy said.
"With songs they have sung for a thousand
years," Sam continued singing.
At that moment, Luis, who had been unconscious
before, climbed up the ladder where the men stood. "Luis!" Miguel exclaimed.
"Did you hear what Sam just sang?"
"I like it!" Luis declared.
"I say that Sam writes this play," Hank
suggested.
"Thanks, bro, but isn't Miguel?" Sam asked.
"Bro?" Hank asked.
"Excuse me!" Miguel said pompously. "Absolutely
not!" He stormed out and was never heard from again.
Timmy shrugged. "Oh well. Hey Sam, Timmy, Luis,
Ethan and Hank have a meeting tonight in the Moulin Rouge with Ivy, the star of
our play. Sam should come and meet Ivy."
"Ivy," Sam repeated to himself. Then he realized
what they were asking him to do. "No, I couldn't." He began to walk down the
ladder to his room.
"Sam, wait!" Timmy called. "Doesn't Sam want to
be a part of this revolution?"
"Revolution?" Sam asked. "No, I'm no
revolutionary."
"Do you believe in truth?" Ethan asked.
"Yes, of course," Sam answered.
"Beauty?" Timmy said.
"Yes."
"Freedom?" Hank questioned.
"Yes!"
"Love?" Luis finally brought up.
"Love," Sam stated softly.
"Yes, love," Luis emphasized.
"Above all things, love," Sam answered and was
surprised by what he was saying. "Love is like oxygen, love is a many
splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love."
"Then Sam can be one of us!" Timmy said
excitedly.
"Off to the Moulin Rouge!" Hank exclaimed.
"Welcome, Sam. Tonight you can borrow my suit
and jacket," Luis offered before he fell down, unconscious again.
So that night they all met and were off to the
majestic, mysterious Moulin Rouge.
