One Man Show (6 page)

“As you wish. But promise me that I shan’t be thrown in the dungeon if you split your royal sides.”

“I promise.”

“Okay, then, brace yourself. Why did the peahen cross the road?…”

After the scene ended, I had a few minutes offstage to ditch
the belt and pull myself together. The spotlight shot across the stage, past Cynthia, to the exit sign, then back to Cynthia.

“The years flew by faster than a griffin’s gallop,” she said, “and by the time they turned thirteen, Princess Precious and
Jingle Jangles were gazing at each other with a special glint in their eyes. Alas, they were falling in love.”

A rowdy
oooh
came out of the audience, followed by a
shhh.

“It was important, however, that the Princess marry well. For you see,” Cynthia said, cupping her hand to her cheek, “despite
their enviable bloodline and noble airs, the royal family was poor.”

“Louder!” I said.

“Dirt poor!” she said, shooting me a nasty look. “In fact, their silken robes were fraying at the edges, and their crowns
were dented and sat crookedly upon their regal heads.”

The spotlight zigzagged across the stage and landed on Darlene as the Royal Nanny and Wally as the King.

“I’m trrrroubled, Your Highness,” Darlene said, swishing her dress. “Your daughter is spending entirely too much time with
the fool’s son and far too little time on her embrrrroidery.”

She was doing a bad English accent, which Miss Honeywell had told her
not
to do, and was rolling her r’s.

“But, Lady Pickerel,” Wally said in his deep King voice, “my daughter cherishes her afternoons with young Jingle Jangles.
Why, she seems to blossom in his very presence!”

“My point prrrrecisely,” Darlene snarled. “And no good
can come of it. Besides, it seems that your Prrrrecious has unknowingly captured the heart of a prrrrince! Rrrrumor has it
that Krrrrispen of Kaloo rides past our gardens every fortnight to catch a mere glimpse of her.”

I popped my head up from behind the castle wall with a look of utter despair. That’s what it said in the stage directions:
[Utter despair].

“Why, such a union could save our entire kingdom!” Wally was stroking his fake beard with one hand and undoing the Velcro
on his costume with the other. “But I shall not compromise my daughter’s happiness.”

I popped back down. It had never occurred to me before how lame this play really was. Jeremy must be snoring by now. Why did
Miss Honeywell have to pick such a dorky play?

“ ‘Tis hardly a compromise,” Darlene said. “The Prrrrince is fair of face, and sweet words are said to flow like honey from
his lips.”

She’s prrrractically singing her lines. C’mon, pick up the pace, people!

“Perhaps we should invite him to our midsummer festival,” Wally said as they headed offstage.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but what midsummer festival?”

“Exactly. Make the arrangements at once!”

As soon as they hit the wings, Wally started changing into a different costume. I guess he was determined to work in all five
his mom had made, or die trying.

Cynthia droned on with her boring narration; the lords and ladies did their circle dance, which looked more like medieval
bumper cars. I couldn’t wait until my next scene so I could liven things up.

Enter the Prince to a fanfare of -
crickets? Leonard is so dead!
Felix Plunket really looked the part: tall, skinny, blond hair, blue eyes. He hit his mark center stage and stood tall, with
his hands planted firmly on his hips.

“Welcome to Galico!” I said, cartwheeling onto the stage. “Lengthy journey, my lord? If you don’t mind my saying so, Your
Majesty looks a tad weary. And your fine robes smell -well, like the insides of a sick goat.”

That got a laugh. Jeremy, did you catch that?

“I’m afraid I’m the bearer of some unfortunate news for Your Princeliness. Let me see, how can I put this delicately?” I said,
scratching my hat. “You’re late!”

I sang my little song, dancing a lively jig around Felix.

The festival is ending now,

The mead is drunk; we ate the cow,

It seems your trip was made in vain,

So, on your horse and back again!

Felix stood taller, looking even more princely, and stared into the audience.

Jeez, he’s really milking it.

“So, on your horse and back again!” I repeated.

Nothing. He wasn’t acting - he was panicking! I tried to feed him his line without moving my lips.

“Be. Gone. You. Oaf.”

“B-b-b-buh…”

His stutter kicked in, and a sweat ball dripped off the tip of his nose. Now
I
was panicking!

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, wiggling my fingers in his face. “’Be gone, you oaf! Or you’ll squash me like a caterpillar!’”

“Young fool, away!” Wally shouted, stomping onto the stage. “That is not the proper way to greet a prince.”

Saved by the Walrus. He had on a red tunic with brown spots. His mom must’ve reworked his pepperoni-pizza costume from last
Halloween.

“A thousand pardons, Your Highness,” I said, “but I -”

“Hold your tongue, Dustin!”

“What?”

“I meant, Jingle Jangles.”

Wally started cracking up. I socked him in one of the pepperonis.

“Oww! What’d you do that for?”

“And ten-times-a-thousand pardons to you, Prince Kris-pen,” I said to Felix, who was starting to wobble. Some Prince.

“The Jester’s son is high spirited but surely meant no harm,”
Wally said, strolling downstage. “Your visit to my kingdom is most welcome indeed.”

As if things weren’t going badly enough, I noticed that the back of Wally’s tunic was tucked into the elastic band of his
tights. And his dinosaur underpants were showing through!

“Allow me to reveal our most magnificent sights!” he said, bowing low to Felix.

The audience roared.

I said my next line staring at the floor so I wouldn’t lose it. When I looked up, Wally was gone. Right in the middle of the
scene!

Now it was just me and the petrified Prince again - and a packed house, with Jeremy sitting out there, laughing with the rest
of them, and not in a good way. After a pause you could drive a truck through, someone from the audience started tossing pennies
at us. I wanted to exit stage left and just keep running. But I decided to wing it.

“Since Your Highness insists, I shall summon the Princess at once! Princess Precious!” I shouted, running upstage. “You have
company. Wherefore art thou, Princess? Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

The backdrop rippled.

“I’m coming!” Pepper shouted. “Hold your horses!”

I heard running footsteps, then
rip!
- Pepper came busting through the middle of the paper drawbridge, leaving a giant hole just like in the Road Runner cartoons.

“Gentle Princess,” I said, clutching her arm, “I’m sorry to have awakened you from your royal nap.”

“Huh?” she said with her eyes closed. “Is that in the script?”

Before I could get another word out, there was a loud
crack!
I looked at Felix to see if he’d broken in half, but he was still rock solid. Pepper must’ve knocked a wooden support loose.

Leonard hollered, “Heads up!” A scream came from stage right. I looked up and saw the tall flat with the tower painted on
it toppling over.

I grabbed Pepper with one hand, Felix with the other, and ran across the stage, shouting, “Twister! Run for your royal lives!”

Trumpets blared, horses whinnied, crickets chirped, babies cried. And the audience howled.

The collapsing flat took another one with it, barely missing us. I pushed Pepper out of the way but slammed into the flagpole
stage right. It knocked the giant speaker off the wall, and then
boom! -
the speaker smashed through the top of the baby-grand piano. The tremendous sound of piano strings vibrating shook the auditorium.
Shook my bones.

“Curtain!” I cried. “Pull the curtain!” But Leonard was gone. I threw myself onto the ropes and yanked with all my might.

“Wait!” Wally said, zooming toward the stage. “Just two seconds!”

I wasn’t waiting for anything. I just kept pulling. But I
couldn’t pull fast enough to hide what was happening center stage: Wally was standing on a pile of rubble, bowing. He was
wearing costume number four (a zebra-print rug?). One final tug and the curtains were closed.

It was over.

Backstage was a disaster area. Four girls were crying, Felix was kicking the wall, and Pepper was screaming at Darlene.

“This is all your fault! The hot lights melted that eyelash adhesive. I told you not to use so much!”

“I didn’t use any at all!” Darlene snapped. “I ran out, so I used rubber cement.”

Miss Honeywell appeared, looking crazed.

“Is everyone all right?”

“Yeah,” Darlene said.

“Speak for yourself!” Pepper hollered.

“Pepper, darlin’, your eyes are all swollen!” Miss Honeywell said. “Darlene, please accompany her to the nurse’s office. Everyone
else, collect your belongings and proceed back to the classroom immediately.”

The backstage door slammed.

“When I get my hands on - that was the biggest fiasco I have ever -”

It was Principal Futterman, too hot to finish a sentence.

“Now take it easy, Dan,” Miss Honeywell said. “The good news is, no one got seriously hurt.”

Futterman went ballistic, but I tuned out the yelling - just
like when Mom and Dad were at each other’s throats. I started going around collecting all the loose change that the mean kids
had thrown on the stage.

Too bad Jeremy Jason Wilder had to sit through that disaster. I’ll bet any money he switches to homeschooling after this.
Hmm, eight cents and one Canadian nickel.

It’s funny, this was my first paid performance, in a way. My first professional gig. That’s Dad’s word
-gig.

“- and someone is going to be held accountable!”

The door slammed again, and when I turned around everyone was gone - except for Wally, who was sucking the cream out of a
Twinkie.

“We should get back to class,” he said. “The play went well, don’t ya think?”

“What?”

“Well, the audience liked it.”

“I can’t believe you!” I buried my head in my hands.

“Why?” he said. “Oh. Sorry. Did you want a bite?”

“Everybody up!” Mom said, ripping my covers off. I didn’t budge. “Come on, sleepyhead, you’re going to be late for school.”

“No, I’m not,” I mumbled into my pillow, “’cause I’m not going.”

“But you love school. And it’s Friday - no phys ed. Just one more day till the weekend.” She tickled the bottoms of my feet.
It didn’t work.

“Mommm!” I croaked. “Stop it.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me late for work. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. It depends on how you define
sick.”

“Come on, Dustin, I don’t have time for this. If you’re sick, I’m taking you to the doctor; if you’re not sick, you’re going
to school. Pick one.”

Tough choice, but school won out. Luckily, having a real, live TV star inches away from us in class seemed to wipe the play
out of everyone’s memories. Jeremy Jason Wilder looked just as he did on TV - same blue-black hair and dark eyes, maybe a
little taller, and definitely thinner. I guess the camera really does add ten pounds. At lunchtime I expected a stretch limo
to arrive and whisk him away, but he sat all by himself in the cafeteria, pretending to be a normal kid. No bodyguard. No
bottled water. Not even dark sunglasses.

Pepper was wearing her sunglasses, though, ‘cause she still had raccoon eyes from the rubber-cement incident. She was sitting
with me and the Walrus, one table away from Jeremy. We were all playing it ultracool. But trying to ignore Jeremy was like
trying to ignore a polka-dotted hippopotamus twirling fire batons. Wally decided to use his spoon as a mirror to follow his
every move. Nobody dared cross the line and actually speak to Jeremy, though - that is, until Darlene came clomping in, wearing
high heels and makeup.

“Hi, I’m Darlene,” she said, dropping her tray down on Jeremy’s table. “You’re in my class.”

“Jeremy.”

“I know. I mean, who doesn’t? I mean, it’s nice to meet you.” She was batting her eyelashes so fast you’d think she was trying
to keep her eyeballs from falling out. “Mind if I sit?”

Darlene pulled up a chair without waiting for an answer.

“Well, if motormouth could talk to him, we could too,” Wally said. “Come on!”

He and Pepper grabbed their trays, turned their chairs around, and scooted in next to Darlene. I stayed put and pretended
to be absorbed in
New Horizons in Environmental Science, Level D.
But I tuned in to every little sound and move that was happening at the next table.

“Hey, Jeremy!” Wally said.
“Double Take
is my favorite show! Well,
was
my favorite show. I’ve seen every episode at least three times.”

“Introduce yourself, ignoramus,” Darlene said.

“Oh, sorry. Wallace P. Dorkin. This here’s Pepper.”

“Howdy,” she said, peeking over her shades.

“Hi,” Jeremy said.

“You must be, like, a millionaire, right? Do you have your own private jet?” Wally asked, shoveling coleslaw into his mouth.
“Do you get to fly it?”

“You’re not supposed to ask money questions,” Darlene said, punching Wally’s arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

“No planes, no yachts, no race cars - yet,” Jeremy said. “A lot of my money’s tied up in some special account, and I don’t
get to see it until I’m, like, eighteen.”

“Bummer!” Wally said, pounding the table so hard the trays rattled.

A hysterical third-grader wearing nothing but pink ran up
to their table. “Omigod! Do you know who you are?” she gushed. “I love you, Jeremy. No, you don’t understand. I really
looove
you!” She dug a marker out of her pencil case and handed it to him. “Sign my arm, pleeeze? I swear I’ll never wash it off.”