Confusion at the Rehearsal - Part 2

 [Back to Part 1]

Three men dressed in plaid flannel shirts and overalls were standing in the opposite wing. They are surrounded by a flock of “sheep,” cardboard cut-outs covered in a wooly material.

 “Well, here we are again,” said the first man. The other two looked at him and nodded.

“Did’ja bring the coffee,” he asked.

The second man held up a thermos.

“How ‘bout the sang-witches,”

The third man held up a lunch bag.

“Looks like we’re all set, then.”

The other two nodded.

Eric came out from backstage, making his way through the “flock” to where men were standing.

“Who are YOU supposed to be,” he asked.

“I’m Garry,” said the first man. “This is my brother Merril…” he pointed at the second, who nodded to Eric, “…and this is --”

“Let me guess,” Eric interrupted, “you’re other brother Merril.”

Garry looked at him, puzzled.

“Uh, no,” he said, “Why would I have two brothers named Merril? That’s my other brother, Fred.”

Fred tipped a short salute toward Eric.

“Oh, okay. Sorry, but who are you SUPPOSED to be,” asked Eric.

“We’re the Shepherds,” stated Garry.

“Shepherds? You look more like lumberjacks!”

“Well,” said Garry, “we thought we’d bring our costumes a little more up-to-date, don’cha know?”

“Up-to-date?” Eric grasped his head in both hands, sighing.

“Well, frankly,” said Garry, “them robes was a little, uh… DRAFTY… if ya know what I mean.”

Merril and Fred nodded, and mimed tucking their robes down around their knees.

Shaking his head, Eric said “Well, we don’t have time to do anything about that now. Wait over there for your cue. We’ll see about getting you PROPER costumes for the show.”

“Well, I guess you is the boss.”

Merril and Fred nodded.

“Darn tootin’ I is… uh, I AM!” said Eric, turning his back on the “Shepherds” and heads off into the wings, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

---

Angela is standing mid-stage, looking back into the wings.

“Come on, now. Let’s find our places so we’re ready when the Director wants to start.”

Two young girls in angel costumes walk out onto the stage.

Angela gestured toward the wings, smiled, and said, “You, too.”

From the wings a voice says, “No.”

“Oh, come on” said Angela. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”

The voice in the wings is heard again, saying, “No, I don’t wanna. You can’t make me.”

Angela put her hands on her hips and adopted a somewhat stern attitude.

“One… two…”

“Oh, all right!” says the voice, and its owner shuffled over to where the other “angels” were standing.

“There,” said Angela, taking her spot. “That’s the way.”

Eric entered from wing, and walked along to where the row of angels was standing. He approached them like a General inspecting the troops.

To Angela he said, “Okay, looks good.”

He took a step and examined the second “angel.”

“Not bad... straighten that halo,” he said.

The girl reached up and wiggled her halo back and forth.

Eric took another step forward and looked down at a rather large pair of feet. Slowly he looked up… and up...

 “GOOD GREIF!” he exclaimed, staring at a six-foot tall man. “Who are YOU supposed to be?”

“I’m an angel,” said the man.

“No, really… who are you, and why are you here?”

“I’m Elly’s dad,” the man explained. “She’s home sick, and couldn’t come to rehearsal. She didn’t want to let everyone down, and she begged me to come and take her place.”

Shaking his head, Eric again said, “Good Grief!” He looked quickly up and down the line of angels, then said to Elly’s Dad, “Well… try to blend in a bit, eh?”

 “I’ll try,” replied Elly’s Dad, slouching a bit.

Eric stepped off the stage, muttering to himself, and took a seat in the front row, opening his script to the first page.

[To Part 3]