The Acting Troupe

I’m the new guy at an acting troupe that has a three story building for its performances. I’m tall and dreamy looking, but quiet. One of the girls takes to me instantly, and it’s clear we’ll become both good friends and more than friens. But that is in the future. Today we are all very busy preparing for the night’s performance.

There is a lot to do, and it’s like a movie montage, everyone busy at something, everyone working in a state of effortlessness and fun. One of the women is in charge, giving directions. Things are being loaded onto a small pickup truck for transport to the third floor, the truck driven repeatedly on and off an elevator.

My skills haven’t been called on yet. I’m being allowed to just watch, on this first day, getting the hang of everything. I learn that when the troupe does a scene in an airplane or a grand ballroom, they move the action upstairs. The audience must climb three flights to reach it (I never see what is on the 2nd floor—perhaps a dormitory for the actors?). I think I have a better idea. Set up the ground floor so that with a prop change it can double as an airplane.

Some guys are moving a refrigerator. Others are moving a lot of smaller things. Each person seems to have their specific job. For me to jump in and help would be to take someone else’s assignment. So I just move about observing, awed by the harmonious, hivelike bustle of this workforce.

But then I have an idea. Now my skill is going to show itself. The audience will see that this new guy, who so far has done nothing but watch, does indeed have something to contribute. I’m going to be standing on a stepladder, and doing something artistic of a new and wonderful kind—it will be seen in a few moments.