Michelle Helm, arguably, didn't have much to look forward to each day in the hospital.
Aside from the treatments that often took her out of her room and into a different, yet vaguely identical room, she didn't have much that lifted her spirits. She never had visitors, and she often was alone for long stretches of time, doing what little homework she could stomach to do on her own. But every day at exactly noon, she knew she could flip the television that was bolted to the ceiling at the end of her bed to Channel 3, and she'd be greeted by the familiar face of her only real friend...Beatrice Beagle. Despite Michelle being almost ten now, and Beatrice Beagle having always been skewered towards a younger demographic, she still tuned in because it was the only thing that managed to continually brighten her spirits in these sad times. Beatrice Beagle was a kids show full of songs, puppetry and the lead herself, a large anthropomorphic beagle, who was always eager to help others and was kind to a fault. This was the sort of person Michelle wanted not only to be, but also to have around her. In a world so seemingly fraught with endless cruelty, Michelle craved kindness and niceties. Perhaps that's why the news of Marvin Burgis's suicide hit Michelle so hard when she came upon it one afternoon. "Star of forgotten childrens television show 'Beatrice Beagle' dies in apparent suicide" was all the headline read, and it had a picture of Marvin Burgis, the man who had played the ever friendly neighbor to Beatrice. Sitting there, staring at this photo - the only photo she'd ever seen of him - Michelle couldn't help but feel like someone close to her had died. Which was an odd thing to feel, she had to admit, considering she never felt that way when her father had keeled over months prior. *** "Miss Helm?" the voice asked, bringing her back to the moment. The voice belonged to the woman sitting across the table from her, an older woman with big hair and a lot of jewelry on who was smiling at her; she continued, "I was going to ask if you'd been looking for work since we last spoke." "Uh, y-yes," Michelle said, handing her a handful of papers clipped together, which the woman happily took and quickly thumbed through. "Lots of applications here," the woman said, "Seems you've been busy. Anyone called back or e-mailed you yet?" "No, not yet," Michelle said, looking down at her hands in her lap, playing with her press on nails. "Well, don't get discouraged. Somebody will, it just takes time," the woman said, filing the applications into a manila folder and sliding it into her desk drawer before cupping her hands on the tabletop and leaning on it, lowering her voice, "...is everything else okay with you right now Miss Helm? You seem distracted. How's your health been?" "It's been, you know...okayish," Michelle said, embarrassed to discuss this with someone in the unemployment office. She never could understand why this woman seemed so interested in her personal life. "Well, just monitor your health and keep on trying, I'm sure something will turn around eventually," the woman said, smiling at her as she began wrapping their meeting up. Afterwards, Michelle walked down the stairs of the unemployment office and headed across the street to the pharmacy, needing a refill on her medications. She stood in the dental hygiene aisle as she waited for them to be filled, closely examining every type of new toothpaste she had never seen. Once her medications were filled and bagged, she headed back to where she'd parked her electric bike, climbed aboard and started the motor, heading home. By the time Michelle Helm got home, it had just started pouring, and she was grateful for having avoided getting soaked. She hung her coat and trapper hat up on the coatrack by the door and then headed to the kitchenette. She made a cup of coco and took out a small piece of cheesecake she'd kept in the freezer before sitting in front of a long vertical mirror leaned against the wall in the living room and watched herself eat and drink, never once saying a word. Afterwards she sat and continued to stare at herself, almost as if waiting for her reflection to do something. After a while, she finally stood up and went to take a shower. Once out of the shower, she sat on her bed and played the same record she'd had since she was a little girl - one which featured original songs by the cast of Beatrice Beagle that was only given away as promotional item at the pizzeria - while she painted her nails and ate from a large tub of black licorice she kept by her bedside. For all intents and purposes, Michelle Helms was not a well woman, but she was trying at least. *** The last job Michelle had held was selling high powered juicers at a small booth in the mall. It hadn't paid a lot, and it wasn't all that glamorous, but it was a job and she had always been told to be "appreciative of those who would hire a cripple", even if she wasn't outwardly physically disabled. Standing behind this little booth, Michelle would people watch; stare down the couples sitting at the food court enjoying lunch, or watch the groups of pre-teen girls huddled around the fountain gabbing with all their friends. She liked people when they weren't involved with her. She enjoyed studying them from afar, like she was a biologist deep in the jungle, taking notes on a species she didn't understand. During her lunch breaks, she would sit out back by the dumpsters and eat soft pretzels while watching her digitally transferred episodes of Beatrice Beagle on her phone, until one day when a few other employees came out for a smoking break and found her doing this, and thusly made so much fun of her that she quit that very day. She kept a juicer for collateral. These days, when she wasn't sitting at home with tubes in her nose so she could breath, Michelle was often working on her project in her basement, or rather, the basement that was in the house she (or her mother, actually, but she tried to forget that as often as possible) was renting for her. It took a lot of time, a lot of power tools and materials, but she was going to see it through to the end. Sometimes she'd get so tired and overworked by her own project she'd almost faint and would wind up crashing on the couch for a few hours, breathing apparatus hooked up while she made smoothies in her stolen juicer and watched kids shows on PBS. Michelle still had the occasional doctors appointment to check in on her health, make sure her oxygen levels were adequate, and get refills for things, but for the most part, she didn't go to the doctor often. Not like she had as a child, anyway. It was just another way to pass the time, or at the very least that's how she saw it, and while she acted cordial during these routine and extremely mundane visits, she couldn't help but be thinking how unfair it was that she had to be doing this at all. So many other people didn't have to do this, and that frustrated her. The audacity of those people, with their 'clean bill of health'. Made her want to wretch. And then came the day she turned on her laptop and saw the headline on the top of a news aggregator. ""Star of forgotten childrens television show 'Beatrice Beagle' dies in apparent suicide". Marvin Burgis's face front and center. Sitting there, staring at the photo of a man she'd never met yet somehow felt she knew deeply was...unsettling. Michelle wanted to cry. Instead, she began to furiously do research into Marvin Burgis, but - as always was the case when researching anything Beatrice Beagle related - she came up with virtually nothing. Nothing except the same old things that always cropped up; old ratty commercials that were barely viewable through the television fuzz and an occasional mention when the pizzeria inevitably popped up on another list article about "10 unknown defunct chain restaurants". Nobody ever mentioned the show, nobody ever mentioned the mascot, nobody ever mentioned Beatrice. It was always only the pizzeria, and for a long time this complete lack of utter acknowledgement began to make Michelle question from time to time whether or not she'd simply imagined the whole thing. Until the day Marvin Burgis died, and that article finally, after all this time, finally mentioned something of note: "He was most known for playing the role of the kind neighbor Mr. Buckler on the Saturday morning kids show Beatrice Beagle. Nobody from the show has commented as of yet on this." Nobody from the show may have commented yet on what had happened, but someone had written this article, and someone had remembered the show. Michelle scrolled back up to see the name of the person who wrote this piece up was, and was granted her wish. The name read simply "Keagan Stills". *** Keagan Stills was a 22 year old black woman who, during the night, worked at a local fast food place. But in her spare time, she dedicated her waking hours to drudging up whatever she could about lost media. Keagan had always been fascinated with media, but especially the concept of lost media. How could anything recorded go missing? It just seemed impossible to comprehend. Isn't the whole concept of recording something for the sake of posterity? So that we, collectively, remember it? Didn't seem right that something of that nature would up and vanish. But a few years ago, Keagan ran across some information in regards to a virtually unknown Saturday morning kids show called Beatrice Beagle, and was hooked instantly. Sadly, as Keagan knew full well by this point, becoming obsessed with something that was virtually unknown and universally forgotten, it made it hard to find anything in regards to it. She scoured the internet, occasionally finding clips and whatnot, until she finally came across an interview with a local theatre in Chicago where Marvin Burgis was performing in a play, and the interviewer had asked him about his role in Beatrice Beagle. He laughed it off, talked briefly about it, and that's when Keagan knew she had an opportunity to find out more. So she tracked down Marvin Burgis and they spoke on the phone a few times. But that had been years ago. She hadn't heard from him since by the time he'd took his own life, and still...having to write that report hurt deep inside. But when she read through the comments posted to her article, she saw one that caught her eye. Who was this Michelle Helm? Why did she seem to know exactly what Keagan knew about the show? And how could they work together to track down more? Turns out Marvins suicide would be a rather warped blessing in disguise. *** "How's your breathing?" her doctor asked, sitting in front of her, looking over her chart. "It's okay. Sometimes it's labored, like if I exercise or do something physical, but it's mostly okay. Though I've started using the tank more in general," Michelle replied, "Is that bad? To rely that heavily on it?" "No, not at all, whatever makes you feel better," her doctor replied, setting the chart down and looking at her, smiling, he added; "What are you doing that's so physically demanding, if you're not working, might I ask?" "I'm...building something," Michelle said, almost smiling, "um, it's a personal project. But yeah, it takes a lot of effort to saw wood and hammer stuff, so. But I make sure to take breaks, and I make sure to get my tanks refilled and stuff." "Good, good, that's good to know that you're taking it seriously," her doctor replied. As Michelle exited the doctors office and back out onto the street, where her electric bike was parked, she received an e-mail from [email protected] and opened it only to discover it was from Keagan. She hadn't expected the person who wrote the article to actually reach out to her and make contact, but she did, and as Michelle's eyes hovered over the text, skimming it carefully, she couldn't believe what she was reading. "My name is Keagan Stills. I'm contacting you because of a comment you left on an article I posted. We should talk. I've also been looking for people who know about Beatrice Beagle, and if you'd like to, I think we could work together to find out more, possibly. Here's my phone number, and here's my work schedule. I'd like to meet you, Michelle. I think we could find Beatrice." All that time people watching, Michelle thought, and it finally paid off.
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Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
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