Inside Out

One perfectly innocent question, followed by the grievous decision to insist upon an answer, sends the tale toward catastrophe. A bag is overturned, releasing long-forgotten possessions, improbable clutter, and objects belonging to no one present. At first, the spectacle is ridiculous enough to invite uncomplicated laughter.

With each chorus, however, the inventory becomes less explicable: an unfamiliar helmet, unrecognized bones, something moving beneath the pile, and finally an object in the hero’s own hand that was certainly not there before. Matteo di Verro never abandons the optimism with which he began; the world around him simply becomes steadily less comprehensible.

Curiosity hath launched more catastrophes than malice ever managed. The hero of this composition is presented with a perfectly innocent question, asks it aloud, and then commits the grievous error of insisting upon an answer. At first the spectacle is merely ridiculous. Long-forgotten possessions, improbable clutter, and objects belonging to no one present burst forth in glorious confusion. The audience is encouraged to laugh, just as Matteo di Verro doth when he first beginneth the tale. Yet with each successive chorus the merriment groweth increasingly uneasy, for it slowly becometh apparent that the bag containeth not merely more than was placed within it, but perhaps more than ought ever to exist within anything at all.

For this slow corruption of merriment into dread, Matteo di Verro proved indispensable. He possesseth the rare ability to guide a listener across that distance without ever seeming to change character. He never becomes a frightened man; he remains the same optimistic fellow who insisted upon turning the bag inside out in the first place. The world around him simply groweth steadily less comprehensible. The finest cosmic horror revealeth itself by degrees. One first laugheth at the absurdity of the situation. Then one notices the unfamiliar helmet, the bones no one recognizes, the thing moving beneath the pile, and finally the object resting in one’s own hand that absolutely was not there before. By then, of course, the laughter hath become rather difficult to maintain.