*
"Explain this to me," Stu Porter huffed from the house of the Little Dionysus Playhouse, "What kind of a rinky-dink Bush League playhouse has one big long hallway full of gear as the only access point to both the house and the green room?"
"Somebody will hear you," said a rail-thin, white-haired man in an overcoat. "And I keep telling you that there's a back door to the green room."
"From the outside," Porter said through a heavy sigh. It annoyed him to no end. He couldn't get over the design flaw. "It's completely counter-intuitive. Why did I agree to do this again, Manny?"
"Because you're a stubborn mule and you had it in your mind to do this play come hell or high holly," said Manny.
"I'm not being stubborn for god's sake." Porter shot a look into the hallway in question. He was weary of people calling him stubborn. His partner. Actors. The board at the Prescott Players.
"You've bitched about this hallway almost every day since we've started rehearsing here," Manny said. "It's been two weeks already. You're pissing people off."
"How many of my shows have you run lights for?"
"One too many, it would appear," Manny said.
"Twenty three," Porter said. "We've done twenty three shows together, because nobody else understands the lighting nuances I want."
"It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I've done lights in this building before?"
"Do you like this place? I mean do you sincerely think this is a good venue? Just answer me that."
"I like home better," Manny said with a nod. "More intimate there. Lighting board not as complicated. And it's draftier than Prescott." Manny tugged at his overcoat. "I'd run a bit of a tighter ship than management does here. But it's not like home is a palace either, be fair. We're all on the same team in the end, aren't we?"
"That remains to be seen," Porter said. Truth be told he had started to regret his decision to do this almost from the first day he'd toured the place with Dr. Gruber. It wasn't by any means the worst place he'd worked in. The LDP had its strengths. Yet it didn't seem to have any character. Any class. It was just…there.
And that hallway…he'd love to just tear the back half of the building down and start over. Or grab the nearest roller and cover up that 'The Funnel' lettering. It was like a shrine in this place for some reason. He'd never seen vandalism held in such high esteem.
But he wasn't about to let someone else direct the actors he'd already broken in. If the show had to be at the LDP, he was going to make damn sure they all knew he was in charge.
"Come," he said, and motioned into the hallway for Manny to follow him. "Let us enter 'The Funnel' or whatever the hell it is. And be sure to genuflect as you do so."
Thank You for Ten: Short Fiction About a Little Theater Page 5
