Greasy Flukes

                Last year, I played a fifty-something woman in our school’s Grease-inspired musical. It was undoubtedly the best play in our school’s drama career. Nonetheless, I made more mistakes in six hours’ worth of performances that what I normally make in a week (not counting the various walls and microwaves that tend to punch me in the face). Let us take a tour through some of these highly cherished memories.

                Everything was fine, up until the first dress practice.

Things kinda just went downhill from there.

                The first night of the performances, I slipped into my 3-times-too-large costume, and I felt invincible. I felt like an ACTOR.

       That same night, while we were all putting on lipstick backstage, the director’s worst nightmare happened: The Spotlight Broke. It happened while she was giving her pre-performance presentation, so we actually had no idea until the next day at school what had happened. Now, I had grown to love that light. I have been in six plays, all with a spotlight. When I went onstage, the drastic change completely threw me off.

                It made me nervous.

                Later that evening, I walked in on my friend, who played the lead Greaser role, as he was staring soulfully into nowhere.

                So I stood there as he finished and went backstage. I don’t know if he ever knew I was there.

                This actually happened because of the way the set was placed. During certain scenes, a black curtain covered the main stage. The lights glared right through it, so anyone waiting for a scene had to lie on the floor behind the curtain while they waited for their cue.

 I couldn’t see whether my friend was done soulfully staring, which is why I walked in on him.

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                The second night went remarkably well for me, and I was feeling all ACTOR again.

                But I was too presumptuous for my own good. I Messed Up A Line. Butchered it, actually.

I panicked. My friend flinched. A few thoughts whirled through my mind. A wave of dread swept through me, and I heard the members backstage gasping. I fought to survive. Desperately, I blurted out the only words that could save me.

                I’m sure the audience wouldn’t have known it, but what looked like a massive chain facial seizure was actually the cast members onstage trying not to laugh.

 --Sabrina