Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The Boxing Night Play


“What are you wearing, Harold?” Jasfoup put down his plastic-covered tuxedo and did his best to stifle the laughter. “Those look like pantaloons.”

“I feel a right loon an’ all.” Harold risked a glance at himself in the mirror. “When I agreed to the leading part in the village Boxing Day play I didn’t realise they were staging Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein.’ Van Helsing has a lot to answer for.”

“I don’t think Helsing is in Frankenstein,” said Jasfoup. “Are you sure you have that part?” He picked up the program and thumbed through it for the cast list.

“Who else could it be? Doctor Khan has the role of the deranged scientist.” He lowered his voice. “Typecasting, if you ask me. Why are you laughing?”

“You’re still peeved about him taking your tonsils out,” said Jasfoup.

“I was eleven years old and they were perfectly healthy. Anyway, I’m not peeved at all. They grew back.”

“I’m not laughing about that,” said Jasfoup. “I’ve looked at the casting. You’re not playing van Helsing. You’re playing the monster.” He laughed again. “Look on the bright side. You won’t need make up.”

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