You go to heaven for the halo, you go to hell for the rock and roll. And surely this rock and roll is worth going to hell for.

Each slaying has a surreal sort of Hannibal Lecter meets Elmer Fudd quality to it. You scream both in horror and delight—and you laugh, and laugh, and

Sometimes singing with joy, sometimes cursing in bitterness, she maintains a non-stop patter of stories and philosophy. Seems that much of what she says is fantasy—but is it? In her sad condition, does it even matter?

Gregory Joseph Twomey stars as the afflicted Kaije through every stage of his life—which given the breadth of ages is a rather impressive feat. The supporting cast of two men (Joey Ibanez and Rob Loreto) and one woman (Rosanna Haddad) are left with the daunting task of playing everyone else of import. Usually the changes in character are clear; occasionally they add a bit of mental vertigo until you recognize their new role. Compelling story, with the actors stretched beautifully to portray a dizzying array of doctors, nurses, friends and family.

In which your trusty Fringe bloggers disclose sundrie facts — some of which may prove revealing — about their sensibilities. And their sordid pasts. In this installment: Joan Wendland.