You couldn’t write this stuff.

I mean, really. It just makes you want to jump off a cliff.

“Type A” influenza has struck our cast in various and sundry manifestations. We’re doing Bye Bye Birdie, right? Well, Conrad Birdie is in bed for the next couple of days. The other leads are at least one flavor of sick, as are about 15 of the supporting cast and chorus. One of my dancers stuck it out to the end with a raging fever, and I lost a clarinet/sax player about halfway through rehearsal. We open in 62 hours.

This has got to be building my character.

But like I told Mavis this morning: Look at the bright side! We could postpone indefinitely, and then no one would get paid.


Seriously, it’s all good. The kids are troupers for sure. The orchestra sounded great in spite of my hacking at the keys. Always good to see my fellow pit dwellers; especially Adam, who’s likely twice the musician I am but never says it out loud (at least where I can hear it).

So hey, I don’t have it so bad, do I? What am I complaining about? Finkleman, Finkleman. What a donkey.

But the tea is getting cold and the hour is getting late…gotta git. Have yourself a merry little Tuesday, fiends. I’ll update you on our state of entropy tomorrow — bet you can’t stand the wait.

Fink out.

10 thoughts on “You couldn’t write this stuff.

    1. Rat Fink Post author

      True, Mave. Conrad Birdie showed up and did his best tonight. It was actually quite good. There may be hope…but I played like crap!!!

  1. PKPudlin

    Well, remember the sacred tradition, “The Show Must Go On!” but your sis is right – lots can happen in 62 hours, including healing. Sending pink energy your way, Finkle.

    1. Rat Fink Post author

      Thanks, Suz. They’ve always pulled through before…I can’t imagine a silly thing like the flu stopping them this time! I’m sure they’ll have a good show.


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