Over the Hedge
Poison River Players, Part One
14 November 2005
We had mostly finished closing down the haunted house for the season. I was under the impression the staff did other things during the year, though I didn't know what; but I needed some time away from the whole scene and while no one knew why, they seemed to understand. Jerry asked me to consider helping out at the theater if I was interested in continuing at least some of the work I'd done at Ghoul Mansion.
On State Street, set back from the road behind what promised to be a beautiful garden and squeezed between two shops, was Columbia Theatre. I was informed that the building had been left to decay for some years, but was the subject of a spotty and generally volunteer remodeling project hoping to bring a new spark to the city. As part of the disputes surrounding the direction such a project should take, and in partnership with the largely defunct Vocal Group Hall of Fame, a group of actors and stage hands calling themselves the Poison River Players had formed somewhat unofficially and were hopeful they could get an actual play season launched soon. These would mostly happen in open-air environments and rented spaces, like the high school auditorium, but a portion of the money raised by such shows was designated to go toward Columbia Theatre with the hope of it being the eventual home of the troupe.
"Look," Jerry had said, "you seem to care about lost causes, and you did great work with makeup and some of the prop work here, and you aren't half bad at acting. I think they'd be glad to have you." Well. How could I turn down a glowing recommendation like that? And while I hadn't done it before, I really did find myself enjoying the work at the haunted house while it lasted. So now I was sitting on a stone bench in front of the theatre, waiting. It was about ten minutes before Jerry came walking around the corner with another man, talking among themselves until they noticed me. The other man stepped forward and extended a hand, smiling.
"Peter," he said, "and you must be the Jackie I've heard about."
"I suppose that depends on what you've heard," I said with a smile. He laughed and slapped Jerry hard on the back before sitting down on another bench. I retook my seat, and Jerry, stretched his shoulders a bit as if shacking off the sting.
"Well, you guys have at it, I've got paperwork back at the mansion." We both waved, and he was gone. Peter sighed as he turned to me.
"You understand there's probably no money in this."
"Probably?" I asked.
"Well. There is a small percentage of the income that's designated as pay for everyone involved in a given show, but between the cost of doing shows all over God's green earth and supplies and money for this," he said, waving a hand toward the theatre, "the percentage isn't as high as it would be in an established troupe. And being that we aren't established and have no idea how the community will feel about us, we don't even know if there will be any money to allocate."
"I have a day job," I answered. It was theoretically the truth; I had left the pizza shop to give the haunted house enough hours, and hadn't yet returned, but they did promise they would have me back as soon as I was free.
"That's good, that's good. Better than some. So Jerry tells me you kind of tried your hand at most of what we do. Was there some aspect of your work that you most clicked with?"
"The sets. I liked the part well enough, and they seemed to think I really took to the makeup, but if I'm honest it was adjusting the sets and props and maintenance of that stuff that I found myself really enjoying more than anything else."
"Well, we could definitely use that. I think most people that come to us forget that that position exists."
"Are there many people that come to you?"
"No," he said, laughing. I chuckled as well. He cleared his throat. "This really is an experiment. I don't know what will happen with it, if anything. But I'd be glad to have you alongside the rest of us giving it the old college try, if you're serious about it."
"I don't sit out in the cold for just anyone, Peter." He laughed again, stood, and offered me another handshake. I stood and accepted it, and then he reached into his pockets and pulled out a flyer.
"Okay, well, we have biweekly meetings on Tuesdays right now, hammering out the details for our first season. Up at the library. This has all the info," he said, handing me the flyer, "and I guess we'll see you then!" I thanked him, he thanked me, and we parted ways.
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