Part I: Metamorphosis Interruptus

It is the Kafka home. Here in the teenage boys' bedroom there are no outside concerns--only play. Amusement. Distraction. But also education...of a sort. Books, papers everywhere: spread across the rough wooden table, dresser, bookshelves. In the corner: one shared bed, with lumpy pillows and a coarse wool blanket. On the bed, lying on his back, with his arms folded across his chest, fingers under his armpits, is the young Hans: in deep contemplation, a frown upon his face. Across the room, standing by the table with a bowl of apples on the corner, is his older half-brother, Franz, lightly tossing an apple in the air. His eyes dart back and forth between the apple's meager flight and the prone figure on the bed. Franz sighs impatiently. Hans glances at him, his frown deepening.

"Franz...I really don't vant to play zis game today."

His cue given, Franz catches the apple and whips it at Hans, hitting him on the thigh. Hard.

"OWWW!"

Franz has already grabbed another apple and his arm whips out again. This time the apple bounces off of Hans' head.

"OWWW!"

Once more he has an apple in hand. Hans sits up and holds out his hands in protest. Franz keeps his arm cocked as Hans rubs the bruise already swelling on his forehead. Both are listening for their mother--one in fear of rebuke, the other in hope of rescue--but there are no sounds outside the closed door.

"Alright! I'll be ze dung beetle..." But the apple flies anyway. "OWWW! Just let me get ready, alright?" Hans lies back on the bed, then slowly changes his position, drawing up his arms and legs in the air, looking like a crab, (or a dung beetle, depending on how good your imagination works). He dangles and twitches them, appearing to be helpless on his back. Unsatisfied with his portrayal, Franz throws another apple, hitting him squarely on the groin.

"OWWW! Stop srowing zose damn apples at me, Franz! Zumtimes, I sink you are not vriting a story about a metamorphosis at all...I sink you just like srowing apples at me..." Another apple. "OWWW!" Hans focuses on the ceiling, trying to get into character and ignore the pain. He slowly loses himself in the flaking paint chips and furry cobwebs. "Who do you sink iz going to read a story about a man turning into a dung beetle, anyvay? Hmmm? I really sink zat you should put zum jokes in ze dialogue, or a song or two in it--to help brighten it up zum, eh? I could show you vhere...vhere...Franz...?"

Hans sits up and looks around the room. Franz is gone. Vanished. The door is still closed.

"Franz? Vhere did you go? Is zis zum trick, eh?" He gets up and searches the small, sparsely furnished room. "Zum part of ze game? A new idea for your vonderfully cheerful story? Franz? Fra-annnnnnzz??? Vherrrrre arrrrrr yooooooo??? Hmmm?" He opens the door and looks out into the main room. Nobody. Whispers: "Maybe he vas taken avay by ze Police...or vurrrrse...but I can't imagine vhere or vhy?" Turns back to the table. Grabs an apple. "Vhere have you gone to, Franz?" He pauses a moment. Thinks. A smile slowly conquers his face. Takes a bite. "Ohhh vellll...toooo baaad...maybe I vill look for him...later." Snickers. "I have his manuscripts
now...uhnt now for a song..."

Part II: After The Trial

Hans enters the spacious, featureless room, a light shining brightly in his face. He raises a hand to filter the beams in the otherwise dark room. The walls lost in black. Timid. Frightened. He stands there expectantly. Waiting. Someone finally speaks to him from behind the light and he listens attentively, then nods and eases the door shut. There is a simple wooden chair in the middle of the floor and he sits on it. Anxious, he fidgets occasionally, but nothing more is said.

Time passes.

Hans' fear and discomfort intensify, but he makes no queries or complaints, in his cheesy German accent or otherwise.

Time passes.

Eventually, he is addressed. He snaps his head up and attempts to control his trepidation.

Nods. "Ja. I'm Hans Kafka."

The light intensifies. Burns his eyes. But he is too afraid to cover them now or look away.

Squints. "...Ja...Hans Kafka...Franz Kafka's younger bruhzer--half-bruhzer actually."

"...Ja, I've been vaiting for qvuite zum time...first out in ze hall, uhnt zen here. Not zat I'm complaining...Nein. I apologize..."

"...Ja, I know zat you are very busy, but..."

"Ja...alright..."

"...Vhy am I here...? Oh...I'm searching for my bruhzer, Franz...My muhzer sent me here...He has been missing for a veek now..."

"He vas last seen...a veek ago..."

"Nein, I'm not trying to be funny...Ve vere in our room, vorking on a story togehzer..."

"A story..."

"Fiction..."

"For people to read..."

"...a vriter...? Me...? Uhhh...Ja...I'm a vriter ...Franz vas actually helping me...Jaaaaaah...he vas helping me vis zis story about a man who iz tranzformed into a dung beetle."

"Nein. Nein. I haven't been drinking. Franz vas not tranzformed into a dung beetle--ze man is ze story vas..."

"Nein...his name iz not Josef--it's Gregor..."

"Nein, zat's Franz...I'm Hans...Kafka...Ja..."

"Kah-Ah-Ef-Kah-Ah."

"Ja."

"...So, ve vere vorking on ze story, when I..."

"Oh nein, nein...It's not funny at all. Franz zough, he vanted to put zum jokes or songs in it--can you believe zat...? I said 'Vhat? Are you schtupid or zumsing, Franz? Songs...?
Jokes...? Are you zum kind of Imbecile?"

"Oh...? Ohhh Jaaa, of course ve vere, are very close, but zumtimes I just vonder vhy I ever got him to help me at all vis my vriting."

"...Nein. I have no idea vhat may have happened to him; vun moment ve are vorking on my story, ze next moment he iz gone visout a trace...Ve--my muhzer unht I--have heard nuhsing... Have you heard anysing? Do you know vhat may have..."

"Ja ...vhat...? A little...vhat for...?"

"Nein, I'm not qvuestioning you...I apologize. I just don't..."

"Alright...You are correct...of course...Here...just a moment..."

Hans digs into his pockets and pulls out what bit of money (mostly small coins) he has and holds it out, his hands shaking.

"Nein...I mean no insult...ve have very little money...I told you..."

"Oh...? You don't vant it...you're..."

"Oh, sank you...sank you very much..."

Hans quickly puts it away. "So, vhat can you tell me a--"

"Zere was a Trial? Vhat Trial? Ve heard nuhsing about..."

"Vhat for...?"

"Vhy not?"

"Nein. I vas just...But who...?"

"Oh, nein...nein."

"But..."

"But..."

"Vhere...?"

"At ze Castle? Vhat...Castle...?"

"Ohhhh...zat Castle. Really? Zat Castle, hmmm...?"

"Heard vhat from his assistants? Vhat assistants? How can he have assistants?" Pouts. "He's
only two years older zan me...uhnt he does nuhsing..."

Snorts. Scoffs. "...assistants..."

But Hans is quickly sobered to the situation again.

"Ja..."

"Ja..."

"Ja...Really? Uhhhh...maybe if he iz zere..."

"Oh, nein, of course, I love my bruhzer, uh half-bruhzer, I mean...Sank you. Sank you again...very much..."

Hans stands. Nods politely. "Sank you." Visibly relieved he turns and exits without looking back.

Part III: Inside The Castle

Hans enters--slowly, cautiously. This room is totally unlike any of the others he has been in thus far, which were mostly offices and waiting rooms. It is a large laboratory, though it looks and smells more like an abattoir. The room is filled with tables and shelves covered with apparatuses, failed experiments--human and otherwise--and an assortment of other devices: for examinations, dissections, torture. Jars filled with animals, organs, and other body parts are scattered everywhere. The walls are lined with color diagrams and drawings of people vivisected; although, they seem to be hung as art rather than for educational purposes. Along a wall there are four beds. Only one is occupied--by Franz: bruised, bandaged, bloodstained, barely conscious. Hans is horrified. This wasn't what he was expecting at all. It's all too much for him, but he cannot run away.

"Franz...? Oh mein Gott! Vhat have zey..." Hans rushes over to the bedside and kneels beside him. He looks very closely at what they have done to Franz, and Hans imagines even worse things he knows he cannot see.

"...I'm so sorry...I never realized...zis place...zis place..." His voice fades. Lost. But he quickly regains his composure. "You'd never realize vhat a tough time I had trying to get in here, Franz. I felt like a rat, a big fat, furry, schtupid rat in a maze...or maybe a monkey perhaps...how vould you like me to dance for you now, hmmm? Or...vould you like to dance for me instead?"

"...Ohhhh...jaaaah ...Oh, so sorry, I see zat you cannot get up. I am so very, very
sorry...but vhat now? Vhere do ve go from here? Vhat can I do? I'm not so smart, you know, Franz."

"Nein, I never vas...but at least I'm smart enough not to be vhere you are right now, hmmm? Hmmm?"

"But who iz really in more pain? Hmmm?"

"Vhy did you do zis, Franz? Vhy did you do zis to me? I really needed you, zumtimes, and all you did vas srow apples at me. Vell, let me tell you, Franz, have made many pies vis zose apples, uhnt tarts, uhnt jelly, uhnt cider...uhnt none iz for you, uhnt no vun vill know vhat a hand you had in ze process...not muhzer...no vun...ever ...oh, muhzer...muhzer. Ja, ve must look out for each uhzer, her uhnt I--"

"Ja, ve alvays have taken good care of each uhzer, haven't ve...? It is necessary--ve are all zere iz...all zat can be...no more...So, I must leave you behind, Franz; I cannot take you vis me. No more of your Apollo to my Dionysus...It iz far too dangerous for me to take you...for zem to know...but also...I vant to leave you behind...I need to leave you behind...I cannot carry you around vis me...I'm too afraid...too afraid...uhnt I cannot embrace you
...I cannot say zat you are a part of me...I cannot! I must go, now,before I am discovered."

"Ja, your assistants are most persistent...Vunce I came across zem, I almost couldn't get rid of zem again. Uhnt zey are incredibly annoying, as I'm sure you're vell avare. But I guess you von't really be needing zem anymore...hmmm...?"

Hans pauses for a moment. Considers the possibilities. Then, takes a breath. Refocuses.

"So, I must forget you...alzough, I know zat I vill probably never accomplish zat. So, ja, Franz, you may have ze last laugh...Laugh yourself into a frenzy, Franzy, for all I care, eh?...Ohhh...I must go...now..."

Hans stands and starts to turn away for the door, but he pauses, remembering something.

"Oh, Max says 'hi'. Sanks for ze stories."

And Hans leaves his half-brother for all the fame and fortune that now belongs to him.