Shock Therapy

V’s POV again (WARNING: the following chapter may contain MINOR spoilers for Sweeney Todd. Merry Christmas, Shae!

“WHOOOOO, FREEDOM!” Shae shouted, dancing around retardedly (but still cutely) once we got to the parking lot.

“WE RESCUED V, WE RESCUED V!” Melody chanted, joining in Retarded Dance time.

I pouted. “I wanna yell randomly for no reason too,” I whined when prompted about this by Mikey.

“We got some of that spray-throaty stuff in the bus,” he offered, said bus conveniently parked just outside the theater. I briefly wondered whether or not Zach had tried to get it towed, then registered what Way the Younger had just said.

“REALLY?!” I screeched, my voice cracking painfully. I clutched my neck, then whispered gratefully, “I love you.”

“SQUEE, ‘NOTHER LOVE INTEREST THINGIE TO TAUNT READERS WITH ON MIBBA!” Shae shouted, as Melody dawned a look on her face similar to the sound effect of car breaks screeching to a halt.

“NOT LITERALLY, YOU RETA-“ and then my voice broke, like literally shattered, my lips moving but nothing but croaking coming out.

“Cool!” grinned Melody. “It’s just like that fanfiction you wrote, where the Beggar Woman went mute instead of crazy!”

I wanted to ask, you mean the fanfic that you never read? but as my throat was still broken, I settled for flipping her off. This didn’t work very well, as she ended up trying to bite my finger, then mimed biting/attacking my neck like a wolverine.

“Um, yeah,” Mikey said uncertainly, as though he were scared one of us was going to explode from over-stupidity. “Let’s just all load up on the bus and get headed towards Ripley’s, you can fix your throat on the way there.”

SCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENE CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGE!

Once we had finally arrived at the Ripley Museum, Holly, Elise and some guy I didn’t recognize but assumed was Mark (then again I had already assumed a famous rock band were a bunch of modern dance freaks, so my initial reactions seemed to be failing me today quite a bit) were waiting outside the front door (the only door, really, since I don’t think they let you enter through the gift shop).

As I had never met any of them before, there wasn’t much happy embracing and stuff (of course not, now that we were in a place weird enough for that to be socially acceptable). Mainly, they were P.O.ed that it had taken us so long to get here.

“WHAT KEPT YOU?!” Elise screamed; only a few tourists looked up.

“WE HAD SOME ISSUES AT MY THEATRE!” I screamed back, just ‘cause I could now.

“Yeah, we outed a guy, made V sing an Emo Ballad, and scarred about 24 children for life,” Shae informed her cheerily.

“All in all, a good day then?” Mark asked wryly.

Not to be outdone, Holly said, “Yeah? Well….I BOUGHT A CHOCOLATE COVERED GRASSHOPPER FROM THE CAFÉ!” she banished the empty rapper as if to prove this. Everyone minus me (who had become impervious to being nauseated by horrid food choices, see “theater chairs” and “Sweeney Todd” in the previous chapter) clutched their stomachs in horror until Elise subtly pulled the perfectly-intact grasshopper out of Holly’s pocket.

“HEY!” she protested, and then to prove her point bit the head off of the thing whilst it was still in Elise’s hand.

“I vote we go in before I puke,” Mark volunteered.

“Dude, it’s Ripley’s, aren’t you going to puke anyway?” Holly questioned.

“It’s actually not that gross,” I vouched.

“Spoil all my hopes and dreams, why don’t you?” Elise demanded. I laughed and commenced ushering the group inside.

Weirdly, the ticket checkers’ at Ripley’s aren’t that weird. I have the girl our tickets (discounted, because we paid to take the touristy bus thingie. The fact that we didn’t actually RIDE the bus didn’t bother me in the least.)

“OH MY GEE!” Shae shrieked while the salesgirl was handing me back our stubs. “PRETTY MINI-CAROUSEL!”

The ticket girl’s smile seemed to solidify, though nervousness was undoubtedly reflected in her eyes. Unperturbed, I turned back around and started showing off the highlights of the museum, including (but not limited to): the furry fish, steel Ferris wheel, shark jaws taller than all of us, my personal favorites the stuffed two-headed bunny(ies?) and Mike the Headless Chicken (Mikey earned himself the new moniker of “Chicken Boy” thereafter), the Lizard Dude, the Dude Who Could Make His Eyes Bulge Out of Their Sockets, a mummified kitty, the Hall of Humorous Gravestones, and finally-

“I’m using the Coward’s Exit, but ya’ll go ahead,” I said, pointing down the corridor (which, since my last visit to Ripley’s, I have coined “The False Sense of Security Checkpoint”).

“No way!” Mel protested.

“Mikey’s the chicken here, not you!” Gerard agreed, earning a smack from his younger brother.

“You know I hate any kind of ride!” I whined (which is actually true).

Shae was exasperated. “It’s a hallway, V, it’s not gonna bite you.”

I pretended to consider this. “Well…” I said with false reluctance. “Okay-: a cheer went up- “But ONLY if I get to skip the next one.”

They all agreed, and then pushed me forward. I hung on loosely to the rails as the blueish light bounced around the walls, giving the sensation that the floor beneath me was rocking gently, almost like it feels on a boat that’s tethered.

“Well,” Elise commented as we exited the tunnel, “That was lame.”

“Understatement of the century much?” Holly groaned.

“I can’t believe you were scared of that, V!”

I just shrugged, fighting not to smirk as we approached The Horror That Lay Ahead.

“I’m scared of water, and even I thought that was dumb,” Melody remarked as we turned the corner into the other archway.

“Not another one,” Shae moaned in disappointment.

“At least this one has black disco lights,” Frank offered, clearly trying to cheer her up (aw, “not emo!!!” love).

“WHOO, DANCE TIME!” Shae shouted, and grabbed him as she dashed inside the Disco of Doom. The others followed their lead, forming a conga line and encouraging me to join them, but I just shook my head and turned towards the coward’s exit, already snickering to myself.

Like two minutes later…

“HOLY SHIT!” Frank screamed, collapsing out into the gift shop, only slightly exaggerating. But then I suppose he’s an artist, and that’s what they do.

I made no attempt to cover my “muhahahhahaha”ing as Shae tripped out behind him.

“You. Bitch.” She panted, clutching her stomach as the rest of My Chem limped out. “YOU KNEW, DIDN’T YOU?!”

“Like duh,” I said, still laughing. I struck a pose. “LET ZACH SAY I CAN’T ACT, I HAVE PROOF NOW! I’m ready for my Tony, Mr. Demill (A/N: Please, PLEASE, let me have spelled that right…)!”

“I’ll shove a Tony down your throat,” Mel growled. “What the-“ she said a word my religion does not allow me to repeat “-was that about? You just walked in and like out of nowhere it felt like you were turning upside down!”

“You didn’t try to sit down, did you?” I asked. “I like kind of froze when I went though, and it just made it worse.”

“Uh, I think Elise did, and then Holly tripped over her and fell on her face,” said Melody. “They haven’t come out yet,” she added as an after thought.

So we all looked at the crazy pens and crappy furniture in the gift shop while we waited.

NOTHER SCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENE CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNGE!

The rest of the week went by in a blur until two days before both bands were supposed to l-leav- not be there in the sucky Floridian sun anymore. That night was opening night.

I waited in the wings while onstage Stacy was poking around Sweeney’s shop nervously; the play was three quarter’s of the way over, and for the most part nothing disastrous had occurred. I’d manage to convince Melody that Theo and Stacy were firmly together, had been for two years, and as such managed to get her not to boo during “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” (Johanna’s big number, and another one of my “soul songs”, although I can barely even dream of being able to hit any notes in it) and only gave one cry of pain during “Kiss Me!” that was so tiny I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it if they hadn’t been in the front row (knowing a cast member helps with those kinds of things.)

Then again, it didn’t help them much during the part of “Epiphany” where David/Sweeney runs out into the audience and lunges at them with his razor. Frank had all but jumped into Shae’s lap when he came at him (must have been the thrill of her life) and according to a highly-amused David at intermission, Bob had hissed “back the fuck off” when he approached a petrified Melody (FOUR WHOLE WORDS!!)

The “door opening” sound effect suddenly interrupted the music, and I instinctively started babbling for the Beadle. Stacy said her line and, looking terrified, darted across the stage and threw herself into the trunk just as I entered.

Now, normally, I don’t get stage fright. I don’t know why; I guess I’m just comfortable acting. I mean, unless they’re critics, the audience isn’t out to hate you. Even if you fall flat on your face, at least they remember you, and a lot of times if you can play it off right you can turn it into a running gag and be the hit of the night.

But I WAS nervous about that freaking lullaby. I mean, it was basically the only point in the entire show where the Beggar Woman has some substance (other than when she dies), or does ANYTHING basically other than make innuendos, ask for alms, or beseech the Beadle.

As the script told me to, I looked around the room, I whimpered and growled “lasciviously” (people should not need dictionaries when learning their lines, okay? Also, the actual MEANING of this word seriously makes my eye twitch when I think about it). I walked over to the chest Stacy was currently huddled in, ran my hands over it without actually opening it, and then began to scream and wail for no apparent reason (I don’t remember if I mentioned it, but my character is crazy. As in clinically, one moment she’s all there the other she’s not.)

Once my screams had subsided, I mimed opening a window and then pulled my arms to myself as though holding a baby. Cradling and rocking it, a dim smile on my face, I sang:

And why should you weep then, my jo, my jing?
Ohh . . .
Your father's at tea with the Swedish king.
He'll bring you the moon on a silver string.
Ohh .. .
Ohh ...
Quickly to sleep then, my jo, my jing,
He'll bring you a shoe and a wedding ring,

Okay, I said it had SUBSTANCE. I never said it was a power ballad. But come on now, it’s a LULLABY. And it actually makes sense and is really ironic, once you find out who she was before she went crazy (hint: capitalize the Jo in the song.)

Sing here again, home again,
Come again spring.
He'll be coming soon now
To kiss you, my jo, my jing,
Bringing you the moon
And a shoe and a wedding ring.
He'll be coming here again,
Home again . . .

I was so relieved that I’d done it without screwing up (TAKE THAT, ZACH!) that I nearly broke character. I was grateful that Sweeney’s entrance (“Without warning, leaping in like a thunderbolt, TODD appears, the razor in his hand; music continues”) was too abrupt for there to have been any applause.

“You! What are you doing here?!” Sweeney/David demanded of me.

Clutching his arm, I prattled in my anxious, moany voice, “Ah, evil is here, sir, the stink of evil! Down bellow- from her!” I called out for the billionth time, “Beadle dear, Beadle-“

Dave looked anxiously out the window, looking for Theo/Turpin to arrive. “Out of here, woman!” he barked, eyes flickering apprehensively.

I clutched his arm even tighter and continued my warning: “She’s the devil’s wife! Oh beware her, sir, beware of her! She…wit’ no pi-ty…in ‘er ‘eart…” I drawled off vacantly.

Sweeney was losing his pretty much nonexistent patience. “Out, I say!” he roared again.

I blinked a few times, trying my best to stay as Beggy (i.e., not show I was afraid of that little vein in David’s head that pulsed when he got uber mad). “Hey,” I said slowly, drawling rather stupidly, “…don’t I…know you…mister?”

As I’d said this line all of fifteen (well, more like three) times before over the course of the play, Sweeney (and the audience) didn’t take very much notice. At least until Theo made his shadow fall against the window.

“The Judge!” David growled, eyes bulging. They then fell on me. “I have no time!”

Pretending to have your throat slit open is a very messy and awkward experience; I personally wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, unless say you are in a position where someone is actually TRYING to slit your throat, and your best option is to play dead.

Since our theater wasn’t cool enough to have a revolving set like the original Broadway cast, our stage was split in thirds by little mini curtains: Judge Turpin’s house/ the sidewalk, Sweeney’s barber shop, and Mrs. Lovett’s bakery. And because the REAL musical Sweeney sends corpses down a trapdoor shoot under his barber chair into the bakery below, we just had Dave roll the actors playing them towards the curtain and into the unlit bakery side of the stage.

For the most part, this has not looked nearly as lame as it sounds.

Obediently, I rolled as quickly as I could into the unlighted area after Dave mimed kicking me. Once safely covered in darkness, I stood up and hurried over to where the end of the fake shoot was. Also in the darkness, waiting for her cue, Melinda gave me a brief little wave before we both watched Theo and Dave perform the “Pretty Women” reprise.

About a minute and thirty seconds later, give or take, Theo rolled over to join us. Practically running, he went over to Melinda, who grabbed her rolling pin while Theo lay down at her feet, grabbing the hem of her skirt.

On cue, Linda let out a scream (still magically maintaining her Cockney accent.) As the houselights went up, she mimed bashing our Theodore over the head with the rolling pin, shrieking, “DIE! DIE!” at the top of her lungs.

This, to someone who has seen it performed nearly everyday in rehearsal for about two months, was extremely funny. To the horror-stricken audience, however, it was a very intense moment, and because of that (and, you know, I’m supposed to be DEAD), I couldn’t laugh.

Speaking of me-

“You!” Melinda breathed in awe, addressing my corpse. She dropped the rolling pin in shock and hurried over, whining, “Oh, all the demons in ‘ell are sent to torment me! Quick, into the oven with her.”

Trying not to think about whether or not my dingy petticoat was riding up, I felt (because, of course, I’d closed my eyes by then) Melinda grab my limp arms and drag me over to the prop furnace.

The door-opening effect sounded again. “Why did you scream?” Dave/Sweeney demanded of his accomplice. “Does the Judge live still?”

Melinda pressed me to her, flustered. “He was clutchin’, holdin’ on to me dress- but now he’s finished.”

“Forget about them, open the oven doors-“

“No!” she squeaked, clutching me tighter.

“Open the doors, I say!” Sweeney growled. He grabbed my arm, trying to shove me out of the way.

“No, don’t go near ‘er!” Melinda cried, yanking me back. Yes, yanking. These two idiots were playing tug-o-war with me.

Or, should I say, Tug-O-Corpse.

“What’s the matter with you, woman?” Sweeney growled, his temper rising. “It’s nothing but a silly old beggar-“

David must have gotten a little too in character, as he jerked me back so hard that Melinda lost her grip on me and the next thing I knew I had fallen to the stage floor, managing not to like crack my skull open but making me give an involuntary cry of pain.

Now, normally, this would not have been a big issue: I mean, yeah, it HURT like crap, but the wind was knocked out of me, so it’s not like the yelp was audible. It all happened so fast no one might have seen my lips move at all.

But since our DEAREST, DARLINGST director had insisted all of the cast be equipped with head microphones (even though we are all perfectly capable of projecting, like real actors.) As such, my small, teensy-weensy gasp echoed through the entire theatre.

Now, I won’t ruin the ending of the show for any of you- but I will say that it is KEY, VITAL, UBERLY IMPORTANT that there is not even a shadow of a doubt that my character is DEAD at this point. The entire plot depends on it (and this time, I’m not exaggerating.)

My eyes open now, I took in Linda and Dave’s horrified expressions and did the only thing an actor in my position could do:

I adlibbed.

Slowly, careful to make my eyes look as deranged and pain-filled as possible (not all that hard, as my chest still stung like crap). I made sure I was starring directly, intently, at David and rasped, “Ben……jam-i-i-n….”

My hand twitched, as though I was trying to reach out to him. David, bless him, knew enough to stumble to his knees and gape at me in horror. Slowly, I lifted the hand up, my body convulsing uncontrollably- then went rigid. The hand slid back to the floor, my mouth still ajar from trying to communicate, and once again, the Beggar Woman was dead.

Hey, if Judge Turpin could steal an extra moment of life, why not me?

“Oh no…” David breathed, which is actually the line. You had to hand it to him, the guy knew how to roll with a scene. “Oh, my God…” he gingerly ran a finger across my face, hands visibly shaking. “ ‘Don’t I know you’, she said…” He slowly looked up at Linda. “You knew,” he breathed, then said louder, “From the moment I came into your shop, you knew my (Beggy’s Real Name) lived!”

There was a collective gasp from the audience. I might have felt gratified, except when I’d “died” again I’d forgotten to close my eyes- which looks really effective when people get offed in movies, but when you’re onstage and have to hang around without blinking for another ten minutes, it’s rather awkward.

Fortunately, soon enough David was cradling me to his chest and I was able to close my eyelids once they were hidden from view.

Unfortunately, Dave seemed to have taken his pre-show jitters out on his cologne, and it was all I could do not to gag on his signature scent.

Melinda did a brilliant job during the reprise of “Poor Thing”- I think it was the fastest I’d ever heard her manage it. Probably because she was genuinely freaked out about making me whack my head on the floorboards.

“-I love you!” she finally screamed, and I felt her jerking Dave back to look at her. “I’d be twice the (spoilers) she was! I love you! Could that thing have cared for you like me?!”

David slowly eased me onto the floor once more and stood up.

“Mrs. Lovett, you’re a bloody wonder, Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always, as you’ve said repeatedly there’s little point in dwelling on the past-no, come here, my love-“

“Do you mean it? Everything I swear I thought was only for the best-“

“Nothing to fear, my love-“

“Believe me-“

“My love-“

“Can we-“

“What’s dead-“

“-still be-“

“-is dead!”

“-married?!”

He put his arm around her waist alluringly. “The history of the world, my pet-” he crooned.

Melinda was beside herself with joy. “Oh, Mr. Todd, ooh Mr. Todd, leave it to me!”

“-is learn forgiveness and try to forget-“

In her romantic revere, Linda/Lovett babbled, “By the sea Mr. Todd we’ll be comfy cozy; by the sea Mr. Todd where there’s no one nosy-“

I knew, from many rehearsals previous, that David’s eyes were gleaming manically now. “And life is for the alive my dear, so let’s keep living it-“

Mrs. Lovett joined in: “Really living it!”

David suddenly roared, “YOU WON’T BE LIVING IT!”

I’ll say this for Linda- homegirl can scream.

Now that Mrs. Lovett was taken care of, I heard David’s footsteps and a moment later he was cradling me in his arms again. The rest of “The Final Sequence” went by rather uneventfully (well, not really, as the last fifteen minutes of this show is pretty much a bloodbath, but nothing eventful that wasn’t in the script happened) and pretty soon it was time for our curtain call.

The Chorus went first, followed by Toby, Pirelli, and the Beadle. This drew an appropriate amount of applause, which grew to laughter when Tobias tossed his wig into the crowd. Freddie, Stacy, and Theo went out next, with her in the middle. Freddie turned and kissed her on both cheeks, causing Theo/Turpin to yank her around and “force” her to make out with him. In character, Stacy pretended to slap him, then bowed out to numerous foot stamps and wolf whistles.

Not to be outdone, when the three of us finally came out, Melinda made a spectacle of herself tossing her hair and fluttering her eyelashes at a bored David, who yawned in her face. Slumped over like a hunchback, I tugged at the end of his shirt and held out my hand as if asking for money. He glanced at me, made a face of recognition, and basically glomped me while I flung my hands out wildly and yelled, “Ge’offa me, ya bloody git!”

We got the most thunderous applause yet.

In the end, we got a standing ovation, and some people in the second row who only came because Rocky Horror was sold out threw toast (90% sure they meant it as a compliment). Backstage, everyone reveled in their success:

“SOMEONE GET THIS RETARDED THING OFF MY HEAD BEFORE I OFF SOMEONE!!!” Stacy barked, then promptly stalked off to the dressing room, an amused-looking Theo trailing behind her (she may be a natural blonde, but Stacy wears her hair in a pixie-cut, so she still had to wear this old, crappy Rapunzel wig from a production of Into the Woods.)

“Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh,” Melinda reeled, grabbing my arm as I started toward the dressing room myself. “I am SO SORRY, Bubbles, I put on lotion right before I went onstage, I could barely keep my grip on the rolling pin and then Dave pulled to hard I tried to keep hold but then I was already so sweaty under the stagelights and all nervous or whatever I’m such a horrible person I am so, so, sorry-“

“Linda!” I laughed. “Breath! There’s nothing to forgive, it all turned out fi-“

“LUCY!!!” someone shouted, and before I knew what was happening I was being group-glomped by a bunch of rockstars. Again.

“Ho.Ly.Shit that was scary,” Toro remarked. He pointed at Dave, who was standing nearby, attempting to get his makeup off. “You,” he (Ray) said shakily. “You are showing up in my nightmares tonight, or my name is Pansy.”

“Sweet,” David chuckled, and turned back towards the mirror. A second later he let out a swearword and exclaimed, “MELINDA!”

“Oh, dang., what I do now?” she asked, looking harassed.

“Did you, perhaps, apply a fresh coat of lipgloss before our little lovefest in ‘By the Sea’?” he asked docilely.

Linda’s face went blank for a second. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my-“ she guffawed harder, “You still have lipstick on your forehead!!!”

David gave the dignified reply of “shut your face” before bending down before the mirror again, tissue in hand.

Melinda rolled her eyes at him and turned towards us. “A bunch of the cast are going lunching with the ladies after we get changed- you in?”

“Nah,” I declined, “Mel doesn’t drink.”

Melody looked at me questioningly.

“’The Ladies Who Lunch’ is a famous Sondheim song, sung by a character who is totally drunk off herself,” I explained patiently. “It’s our code for getting wasted, so Zach doesn’t find out.”
This, of course, made everyone crack up, including a wig-free Stacy and Theo, who only just returned and had no clue what we were giggling about.

“CHAMPAGNE!”

Dammit.

“Yesm, Zachary?” I asked lightly, trying to downplay his clear anger. And the little vein currently pulsing in his temple.

Zach, needless to say, was Not Amused. “Champagne,” he growled, “What in the name of inappropriate language [okay, that’s not what he said. But he should have!] was THAT out there?! You nearly threw the scene!”

“She saved the scene-“ Melinda tried to interject.

“Oh, really?” Zach asked sardonically. “And you’re a professional actor, and therefore qualified to judge?”

“Um,” Linda replied, nonplussed, “Considering I’m getting paid to act in this production, yeah, pretty sure I’m a professional actor-“

“I MEAN WITH AN EQUITY CARD, YOU UNEDUCATED PEASANT!”

“Dude,” Frank- who was standing right behind me- whispered to Shae. “Someone needs a hug.”

“You aren’t volunteering, are you?” she quietly asked in return.

“There is a time for improvisation, Champagne, and smack-dab in the middle of the most vital scene of the show- ON OPENING NIGHT, NO LESS- is not it,” Zach continued to rant.

“Well I think she recovered brilliantly, if that means anything to you,” a familiar voice- an UBER familiar voice, actually- said from behind me.

Zach looked as though he had literally swallowed his own tongue, and that it hadn’t tasted very good. Feeling as if the blood in my veins had been electrified and then frozen, I slowly turned around to-“

“SEE!” Mikey crowed triumphantly, “I TOLD you we knew Liza!”

“You flew her all the way out here, without telling anyone, just to prove a point you made in passing?” Gerard wanted to know.

“Uh…yeah?”

Gerard smacked him upside the head.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THEM?! DID THEY NOT SEE LIZA MINNELLI- THE LIZA MINNELLI, DAUGHTER OF GENIUS FILM DIRECTOR VINCENTE MINELLI AND JUDY GARLAND, SALLY BOWLES OF THE SILVER SCREEN, CREATOR OF A SONG HARDER TO GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD THAN A BRAIN TUMOR, WHICH OMMITTED ANY CHANCE OF MISSPRONOUCING HER NAME EVER AGAIN- STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM??????!!!!!!

Zach alone seemed to understand the magnitude of what was unfolding before us. He’d shut up fast enough, and for once there was an expression on his face other than a scowl (shellshock.)

“Here, kid,” Miss Minnelli said, pressing something into my hand. I took it reflexively, still stunned beyond conscious action. “In case you get sick of this hick town- I’ve got excellent contacts at music departments at these schools. With a bit of polishing up, there might be some potential in you.”

I nearly fainted. Liza…Minnelli….said…me…have….possibleeventualskillz!

“That weird, choke-y noise she’s making is Broadway fanatic for thank you,” Melody translated to her. I nodded mutely, too dazed to feel like the moron I was acting as though I was.

Liza nodded understandingly.

“Well, I gotta be off, Gerard honey,” she said, embracing him (note to self- probe rocker’s clothes for DNA residue later), “Early flight, you know- oh, but Blondie?”

Stacy, who had been mouthing, ‘IN YOUR FACE!’ none too subtly at Zach while nobody else had been paying attention, basically jumped out of her skin.

“One of my colleagues in New York was telling me the other day that the woman playing Amy in the current Company revival is taking an extended leave for her honeymoon, God help her- anyway, and her swing is taking next week off to visit family. It’s only for a few days, but they’re having a dreadful time finding a temporary replacement, since the tempo for that song is just so fast, you understand- Now normally I’d never do this, but you kept time with that rendition of ‘Kiss Me!’ tonight I figured if you could fly out by tomorrow they’re so desperate they’d take someone as inexperienced as you.”

Stacy blinked once. Twice.

“Sing…’Getting Married Today’…on Broadway?” she choked.

“Um, three month contract,” Zach the Evil reminded her (jealously).

She gave him a look that would have frozen the polar icecap back to regularity despite all the greenhouse gases in the world.

“Just…kidding…?” he whimpered. Then, to recover a shred of dignity, added, “Oh, what the hey, I already gave you half a week off anyway, what’s the difference?”

Stacy’s face went blank. Theo smacked his forehead and went, “DUDE!” incredulously.

“Oh, crap!” Zach cried, for once looking sincerely abashed, “Sorry!”

“Uh,” Stacy said, turning to her boyfriend, “What’s he talking about?”

Theo looked like he wanted to bang his head against a wall and quote Potter Puppet Pals at the top of his lungs. Swearing, he said, “Well I figured a good time to do this would be after opening night, when we were already psyched on adrenaline and everything, but no way can I compete with Liza Minnelli, so here, just take them.”

He shoved something into his girlfriend’s hands. Blue eyes wide, she chirped, “Two tickets to Vegas?”

“Well you don’t have to say it like that,” Theo growled sullenly, “the romance has already hung itself by the rafters for the most part, I even forgot the freaking ring back at my dorm.”

Stacy stared at the stubs in her hand without comprehension. Behind her, Melinda’s hand’s flew to her mouth at the word “ring”, and she began to rock gleefully on her heels.

“Theo…what…” Stacy stammered.

Theodore let out a little snarl of frustration as he continued cutting himself down: “I would have gotten you that little canary cut thing you’ve always wanted, but ya know, college student’s budget-“

Stacy appeared to slowly start hyperventilating.

“-But I mean I did manage to get a gold band, nothing fancy but it’ll send the message- I mean it better, I’ve seen those frat boys at look at you on campus, Stace, and I gotta tell you, I seriously had to restrain myself from committing homicide on the little fu-“

“Theodore,” Stacy said in a tiny voice, “are you asking me to…to marry you?”

Theo stopped babbling angrily and looked at her, eyes not unlike a puppy eyeing a Salisbury steak being dangled in front of its face, eyes earnest with longing.

“Yeah, Stace,” he said softly, and slowly slid down to one knee, “Yeah, Stace, I guess I am.”

They stared at each other in silence, everyone around frozen, holding their breath until Andre turned the corner (presumably to congratulate Freddie), saw Theo in The Position, took in the situation and shouted, “say yes, bitch, what are you waiting for?!”

This advice went unheeded, but it was okay, as they started making out instead; Stacy’s promise ring nearly hit me in the eye as she wretched it off and hurled it blindly, tongue still crammed in the boy’s mouth.

“Oh dang,” Shae said, just dodging it, “Does that mean they’re gonna-?”

Stacy managed to untangle herself from her fiancé and panted, “Can we…like just skip Vegas and like…swing by a magistrate’s office or something? In like ten minutes? My mom is gonna kill me, but whatever, oh my GOSH you are so-“

“LA LA LA little children!” Tobias cried.

“Right, right,” Theo said, taking a deep breath and let go of the blonde. “Exchange tickets to Vegas for NYC, pick up vows and ring-“

“You wrote your own vows?” Stacy gushed. “Shiz, where’s my ring, I seriously need a reminder right now-“

“YOU ARE NEVER PUTTING THAT THING ON AGAIN!” Theo declared, loudly, “come on I have SOME self-restraint.”

“Whatever, let’s go get married like REALLY UBER FAST PLEASE!”

The pair of them bolted, the entire cast and Rockstars laughing their heads off and clapping after them. Sadly, at that point, Frank pointed out that MCR and Shockwave needed to get on the road. We hugged, we cried, we made extremely vulgar gestures, and then, poof! They were gone.

“HEY, WAIT!” David yelled all of five minutes later, “EVERYONE HERE OWES ME FIFTY BUCKS, I KNOW YOU FINISHED DEATHLY HALLOWS AT DRESS REHEARSAL!! COME BACK!!! DANG YOU ALL, COME BACK!!!!”