A Midnight Marionette Rehearsal

Every grand tragedy requires a foil, yet I found myself playing to empty upholstery! Deep in the dim bookshelf alcove, I seized an abandoned red marker cap and wedged it onto the head of a bent silver teaspoon. Behold: Sir Teaspoon, my dour interlocutor! I propped him upright against a row of heavy paperbacks, then tilted sideways into a sweeping, taunting bow. With a quick tug on a stray bit of dental floss I knotted around his neck, he bowed in jerky, reluctant subservience. Splendid! A captive co-star at last!