Topper falls out of the truck. It does not diminish his mood.
“WHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That was awesome! Topper: 1. Gone With the Wind House: 0!” After a brief victory dance, Topper searches for his friend. “Edwin! Edwin! Where are you big E? I’m here to rescue you.”
Topper clambers over the frilly debris and walks towards a man lying on the ground. It’s not Edwin. It’s a young man clad in only a loincloth and a feathered headdress. He is bleeding from his head. The injured boy looks up at Topper and asks, “What happened?”
“I hit the house so hard I musta blown the clothes right off of you!”
“I need a doctor.”
“Yeah, you need a lot of things,” Topper agrees. “But this conversation bores me. Let’s talk about what I need. I’m looking for a tall guy. In a suit. Real serious. Looks like he’s never had any fun.” The boy does not answer. He passes out. “Oh, you’re useless. Edwin! Edwin!”
Edwin emerges from the darkness. He is covered in filth, but still manages to maintain his poise. Over his left arm he carries what is left of his suit jacket. It is easy to see how any man who has just been through Edwin’s ordeal could be angry. Perhaps even enraged at the affront to dignity. But not Edwin. As he surveys the destruction, he finds it depressingly pointless. A fitting ending to the entire episode, yet deeply regrettable.
Topper is ecstatic. “Yes!,” he cries, “I saved you. I’m a FRIGGIN’ hero!”
Edwin sees a jacket hanger amid the rubble. He bends down and picks it up. As he puts his jacket on the hanger he says, “No rescue was required.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you see the truck and the bulldozer and the BOOOM! Whattya want, a friggin’ cavalry charge?”
“Yes, yes, extremely destructive. But what if I had been on the first floor?”
“Ah, first floor isn’t tall enough for you,” counters Topper. Edwin knows better than to explore the absurdity of Topper’s logic.
“Why did you depart from protocol?”
“Agnes wouldn’t tell me what it was!”
“No doubt from fear that you would take matters into your own hands.”
“Yeah, well, I did and now you are rescued,” says Topper.
Edwin frowns at Topper. Edwin also frowns on the entire idea of the ends justifying the means. Just because it worked out this time, doesn’t mean it was a smart thing to do.
“Oh you bastard, don’t you take this away from me. You can’t. I rescued you. Look! Just look at it.” Topper gestures wildly at the truck and bulldozer embedded within the wreckage of the collapsed plantation house. He admires the spectacle for a moment, then returns to pleading, “Edwin, please don’t take this from me. I need this. I rescued you.”
Edwin takes a deep breath. What does it matter? It’s all a sunk cost now. “Very well Topper, you have rescued me. Thank you ever so much. Now where is Agnes? Not in the truck I hope.”
There is a shriek as the stripper falls out of the truck cab. As she staggers off, the Sheriff pleads with her from the door, “C’mon honey, come back. They’s a sleeper cab in the back.”
“She is most certainly not in the truck,” says Edwin.
“Edwin!” Agnes cries. She rushes to Edwin and hugs him. “Are you hurt? What have these Philistines done to you?”
“I am fine.”
“Yeah,” says Topper, chest swelling with pride. “He’s fine ‘cause I rescued him.”
“I am so sorry Edwin, I could not stop him. I turned my back and…”
“It’s all right, Agnes. It has all worked out for the best.”
“Yeah, thanks to Topper it’s all a big fat happy ending,” says Topper.
“Edwin, what has happened to your suit? And what is that awful smell?” asks Agnes.
“I am afraid that is the smell of pig.”
“Oh my God.”
Edwin holds up the jacket. It is utterly destroyed. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to find something off-the-rack at this late hour,” says Agnes. Edwin shudders at the thought of trying to make do with something cut for the lowest common denominator that is the mass.
Survivors of every shape and kind emerge from the house. Some flee immediately. Others wander the grounds in mute amazement. Seeming to wonder, did the plane crash? How am I still alive? And hey, I wasn’t in a plane. I was in a house. Houses don’t fall out of the sky?
The sheriff recovers what little dignity remains of his office and asks the obvious question, “Where’d all these slippery faggots come from?”
Dr. Loeb emerges from the shadows to answer the Sheriff, “They haff been brought here and held against their vill. As haff I. I am afraid mine mater has quite lost her mind.” He points to a figure wandering about on what is left of the front lawn.
The Sheriff turns and he sees Iphagenia Rielly staggering around her lawn like a cross between a Can-Can girl and Mardi Gras float that came in third in a demolition derby. All he wants to do is go home and sleep it off. So he calls in the State Police. He calculates that his cousin, a good, dull, churchgoing man, has been sleeping for at least eight hours. Let him worry about it for a while.
“What are we going to do now?” asks Agnes.
Edwin puts an arm around Dr. Loeb’s shoulders. “We are going to build a giant laser. In space.” Edwin does not smile.
Alabaster, who is really Daniel, has not bothered to run. He knows it is over. He knew it had been too good to be true. He sits on what was left of the front steps and waits for the hammer to fall. Every time he closes his eyes he sees visions of his sons working at Dairy Queen. Every time he opens them he realizes he is going to jail. Edwin walks over to him. Alabaster does not plead. He does not try to bargain. He just sits there and waits for the tall man to exact his revenge.
Edwin considers him for a moment. Then he says, “Daniel, you are an intelligent man and entirely without scruple. A totally self-interested agent who seems to care only about money.” With a flick Edwin presents his card. “If you find yourself in need of work, contact me. I can use a man like you.”
Daniel takes the card, not entirely sure of what has just happened. Perhaps he’s not going to jail. But why won’t this feeling of dread desert him?
Clarence decides that he’s done with the entire state of Alabama. When the truck had hit the house, he had been tossed into the sleeper cab. Now that he’s crawled out, he’s decided he doesn’t care about any of this. And why should he? He and his crew are due in Virginia day after next to tear apart a WWII-era generator factory for the Department of Defense. The DoD should have more than enough juice to get him out of whatever ridiculous jam this is. This bullshit is clearly somebody else’s problem. So he fires up the truck and drives away. That night he leaves frilly bits of house scattered across three states.