My name is Kevin. I am a 20 something unemployed actor just trying to find a job, make ends meet and in general keep myself from having to move back in with my parents. So far it is not going all that well. I feel as though I am as far from achieving those goals as I could ever possibly be.
Last week I ran into my old friend Stan. We got chatting and he mentioned that he had this gig going down where he’d make a quick two hundred dollars for about an hour of work. Stan was always finding new and inventive ways of making a quick buck. So, I asked him, “How can I get in on this gig?” I regretted the question the moment the words were out of my mouth. Why did I have to ask? I had been down this path before. While his gigs usually did end up being profitable, in the past it they had also resulted in broken bones, frequent public humiliation, and on one occasion an unexpected 6-hour bus ride with a group of Chinese tourists, none of whom could speak English. I still exchange post cards with one of them.
By way of explanation let me describe my current predicament. At this very moment I am hiding in a housekeepers closet of a fancy downtown hotel, escaping a horde of entitled, pre-teen boys in beanies who want to attack me. It might help to explain things a little more when I say that I’m sporting a deep layer of makeup on my face; white foundation with black diamonds above and below my eyes. My cheeks have brightly colored red circles on them. I look like a possessed clown. On my head is a red and yellow three-pointed “cap and bells” hat. I’m wearing a motley colored tunic and skin tight breeches. On my feet are slippers with pointed toes so long they curl up and have little bells dangling at the end. Yes, I look like the court jester. Making matters worse, I am sopping wet, and I believe I have a second-degree burn on my left buttock.
Didn’t see that one coming, did ya? How did I get in this predicament?
The gig involved dressing up as “The Jester”, villain and archenemy of Captain Vortex, the renowned superhero comic. We were to appear in front of a dozen 12 and 13 year old boys at a bar mitzvah celebration. Stan got to play the hero, sporting a skin tight spandex costume with simulated muscles, a shield and a menacing looking whip. The plan was to set up behind a small stage area in the ballroom where the celebration was happening. At the appointed time, he would step out from behind the curtain and introduce himself. He’d ask the crowd if anyone had seen the Jester. At that moment I would grab a Ninja smoke bomb (something that the comic character was known for) from a pouch, throw it to the ground. It would produce a human sized plume of smoke, startling the crowd. I would then step out and threaten the hero with some well-known taunts. Stan would then use his freeze ray to immobilize me, saving the day. He’d escort me off the stage, and then remain with the boys sharing a few stories of his exploits, signing autographs and taking selfies. After an hour we’d be cleaning up and collecting our cash.
That was the plan.
What happened instead was when I stepped out in front of the smoke plume, one of the boys yelled, “There he is; get him!” A mass of newly pubescent boys rushed the stage attacking me. One of the boys, had a cast over his arm, and used it with great skill. One unlucky strike hit the pouch of standby smoke bombs, inadvertently setting them all off at once. This caused a loud boom, frightening the boys who temporarily retreated. A visible flame was coming off my rear.
Stan jumped into action. Grabbing a water pitcher from one of the tables, he threw the water on me in an attempt to put out the fire. The boys, taking Captain Vortex’s lead, followed in suit. They grabbed the water pitchers from all the tables, and doused me completely. When the water ran out, they threw the empty pitchers at me. With the fire out, the boys recognized their opportunity to resume the attack. Before they could reach me, I ducked behind the stage curtains and ran for my life. Out the back door I found myself running down halls looking for safe harbor. The boys followed me. Being an incredibly old and historic hotel, there were plenty of turns and opportunities to lose the boys, but the jingling of my head and footgear was constantly giving me away.
I saw a woman open her room door and rushed to meet her. I begged her to let me in and to call for help. She didn’t say a word, quickly closing her door. I could hear the chain and bolt slide into place. Not one of my better ideas.
Farther down the hall I made a quick turn, temporarily losing sight of the now rabid mob of boys. I found an open housekeepers closet into which I retreated. I remained as quiet as I could. I could hear the mob pass by. I dared not move or do anything that would set off a jingle and alert them to my location. It has been 15 minutes since then.
A gentle knock on the door. I responded, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Stan. It’s safe, all the boys are back in the ballroom.”
“Are you sure?”
Stan reassured me. “Yes”. He added, “Look, all is not lost.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, first off, they loved it. All the parents couldn’t stop laughing. They had never seen anything as hilarious as this before at a bar mitzva. They also felt bad for their kids setting you on fire. – We’ll have that checked out.
“I told them we’d finish our routine; I’ll do the selfies and when it is all over, they said the boys would give you a formal apology.”
I asked, “Is that it?” as I opened the door.
“They agreed to double our fee.”
Instantly I replied in character, “Curses Captain Vortex, you got me again!”
Leave a Reply