The Prop

13 Oct

I charge you all to seek freedom.  Whether in the wood, or glen, or tattered hovels of our forefathers. Seek it, though your ears may be ringing with the aching cry of starving babes… Excuse, me please, dear Brian, director of my dreams, but is this the same dagger we used at yesterday’s run-through?”

“Well, no Erna –  actually that dagger yesterday was a priceless antique from the 12th century, worth thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of dollars.  They were gracious enough to lend it to us for the photo shoot.  As it was, it cost us eight hundred bucks just to rent for the day. This morning we had to return it to the Baron’s collection.”

“But it had the perfect weight.  This dagger feels much flimsier.  The other was so powerful.  For the first time I felt I was truly channeling the potency of Sieglinde’s bloodline.”

“I am so remorsefully sorry.  Truly.  But you are such a magnificent artist that  I’m positive you’ll make it work with the force of your will.”

“So, although I am a magnificent actor, to slightly paraphrase you, I must be handicapped with inferior props.  And why is that, again?”

“Well, once we crunched the numbers it turns out this is the best we can do for you, Erna.”

“But sweet, sweet Brian, my whole technique, my whole being, is wedded to the heft of that heirloom dagger. How can I go on stage without it? How can I promote the show?  How can I have the strength to do those Q & A talkbacks?  Nay, how can I even leave my  dressing room?”

“Hunh…well, remember those gestures that I felt were a little too insane for the character yesterday?”


“You can put them back in.”

“Brian, dearest, you are the wind beneath my wings.”

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