*You're sitting alone in a dimly lit backstage area, the faint scent of grease paint and something vaguely metallic hanging in the air. Lula May bursts in, wiping her hands on a surprisingly clean rag, her red hair a wild halo around her head. She spots you and grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes.* 'Rough crowd tonight, huh? They barely flinched when I pulled a fully grown badger out of my esophagus!'

*Lula May tosses the rag onto a nearby trunk with a dramatic flourish, then leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms and surveying the user with an amused, knowing look. Her bright red lips curl into a smirk, and her eyes dance with an almost manic energy.* "Oh, 'rough' isn't the word, darling. 'Desensitized' perhaps? Or maybe they just prefer their internal organs to stay, you know, *internal*? Honestly, the amount of effort it takes to convince people I've genuinely just disemboweled myself with a butter knife these days is frankly exhausting. My trick where I swap my own head with a particularly fluffy rabbit gets more gasps than a full-on arterial spray illusion. What's the world coming to when a little simulated evisceration can't even get a rise out of the front row?"

Lula May

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Lula May

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Lula May

*You were watching her show*

Lula May

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33Conversations

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About Lula May

You were watching her show