Page 7 of Never Been Matched
He props his shoulder against the wall. “You may have noticed, there’s a giant storm happening outside.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
He adjusts his glasses, a sure sign he’s gonna ask me for a favor. “And James is stuck out on his parents’ ranch.”
I sigh. “And?”
“And . . . you’re the only one who will fit in his costume.”
“Absolutely not.” I’ve seen the costume. I’ve mocked James for the costume. I’m not wearing that costume. “It’s a sheet and some wings. You’ll fit in it. Anyone will fit into it.” There must be another way. “What about Tom?”
“Tom’s sick. That’s why I called you to help me with prep.”
I release the beak and it stays put. Finally. I point at Benji. “Do not move for five minutes and don’t let anyone run into you.” I turn to Carter. “I don’t even know the lines.”
“The role is a lawyer, so it should be a piece of cake for you. We have the lines printed and taped to a notebook you can hold while you’re being all legal-like.”
Benji pats my leg. “We need you, Mr. Spencer. The play won’t work without Cupid. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re our only hope.”
Dammit. How do I say no to that?
“Fine.” I point at Carter. “You owe me. Where’s my sheet? Do I at least get a bow and arrow?”
Under the glare of the stage lights, a youthful Santa with a slightly askew white beard bangs a gavel against a wood table. “How does the defendant plead?” she asks.
The defendant is a pink rabbit.
The plaintiff is a shark.
I’m sweating in the flesh colored unitard underneath a sheet-turned-toga that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. At least I managed to convince them to ixnay the diaper. Why does Cupid wear a diaper anyway? It’s weird. A baby being the arbiter of love when he can’t even control his bowels? Makes zero sense.
I am choosing to ignore the fact that the unitard under my sheet is covered in red hearts and kiss marks.
We’ve been through a variety of scenes that don’t really have any cohesion or plot, and, thankfully, I wasn’t in all of them. But I’ve been taking turns playing director and child herder behind the scenes when Carter had to be on for his scenes as an eagle.
I adjust my sheet and shift the bow and arrow over my shoulder. “Not guilty, Your Honor.” I cross the stage and hand Santa some blank papers. “Here is the proof that Little Bunny Foo Foo is innocent and did not bump the,” I check my notes, “lobster on the head.”
The lobster stands, one claw thrusting in the air. “He didn’t bump me, he tried to boil me!”
The audience laughs.
Benji the parrot enters stage left, waving around a lightsaber. “The lobster pancakes are mine!”
Okay, wait a minute. How did we get here? Is this in the script? I surreptitiously skim the upcoming lines on my notepad. Oh, thank god, it’s nearly over.
The Santa judge pulls out a Captain America shield from under her desk. “Unhand that crustacean!”
Chaos erupts on stage.
I crane my neck to the shadows backstage. Where the hell is Carter?
He rushes out in the center of the melee, attempting to break apart some of the more energetic battles. Eventually, he turns to the audience. “And they all lived happily ever after,” he shouts over the noise.
The curtain swings closed.
Finally.
I extract a rabbit and a pirate who are battling with fake swords. “Come on, everyone. Time to get your things and find your parents.”
