Gazza's Lament



  Gazza’s Lament

  A theatre short

  Bev Robitai

  Copyright Bev Robitai 2102

  No reproduction without permission unless for review.

  These little ‘shorts’ are the result of pressure to perform. The rules of my writing group say that we have to have a new piece to read every fortnight, and when I’m ‘between novels’ this is all I can whip up at short notice, as it were. So I’m putting them online to act as a trail of virtual breadcrumbs luring you towards my real books, which aren’t completed quite so quickly. The shorts are where I get to play with different themes, viewpoints and stories that might not fit in a murder mystery novel but they all take place in the same theatre setting and feature many of the same characters.

  Take a punt, see if you like the flavour, leave a nice review…then buy a book or two!

  (Oh – if you are easily offended by a little light swearing, look away when you get to those words, OK?)

  Gazza’s Lament

  I’m not a hard bloke to get along with. Always been pretty easy-going really. I just want to do my job without a fuss – get in, do the business, get out, no drama. Which I suppose is a bit ironic seeing as I work in a theatre. The place is full of bloody drama queens wanting to have the world their way, but I can usually avoid having too much to do with them. I listen to what they want, nod and grunt a bit, and they leave me to get on with it. But when that fella Curtis Delaney blew into town he brought whole new levels of artistic temperament with him. Sure he’s the director and we have to respect that, but he really makes life difficult.

  “Good afternoon everybody, it’s so wonderful to meet you all and see this fabulous little theatre. What a treasure! Let’s all take a moment to look around and give thanks for working in such a jewel of a place.”

  Seriously? Out of the corner of my eye I saw the rest of the crew obediently staring up at the gilt cornices and green and gold trim round the proscenium arch. I caught Tony’s eye and raised my eyebrows. What the hell? He just shrugged and pretended to go along with it.

  “Now you lovely people,” said Curtis Delaney, “I want to know everyone’s name and what you do here, so introduce yourselves please.”

  Tony’s the head of construction so he jumped right in and started talking. He’s good at that. Meanwhile I tried to sidle out of view so I could bugger off and get on with sorting out the wiring in the control panel. I might have made it all the way to the door except that Tony pointed me out, the bastard.

  “Gazza, come and tell Curtis what you can do as head of lighting, will you?”

  I’ll get him for that later.

  “Yeah, hi Curtis, I’m Gazza and I’ll be looking after your lighting for the show. Let me know what you want and I’ll take care of it.” Enough said.

  “Wonderful, Gazza. Have you read the script already? I’m hoping you’ve thought about how we can evoke the inner torment that our hero suffers in Act 3. With your skills in using light and shade I’m sure you can make a significant contribution to the atmosphere of suffocating tension.”

  Like I was feeling right then.

  “Yep, no worries.”

  A flicker of disappointment passed over his delicate features but he let it drop, moving on to look for more sympathetic responses from the other crew members. Once he’d heard from everyone and used our names half a dozen times in meaningless conversation to fix them in his mind, he asked us all to join hands.

  “I’d like to ask God’s blessing for our work here in this theatre. May He watch over our safety, let our creative juices flow, and fill our minds with His love.”

  I suppose the committee knew what they were doing when they hired this guy, but hell’s teeth, what a knob.

  Once we escaped I shot upstairs to the office where Howard, the society president, was banging out the next newsletter.

  “Where the bloody hell did you find that twat?”

  “Who?” He looked up, startled.

  “Curtis Bloody Delaney. He only had the whole crew saying prayers just now. Is he going to keep that up for the whole run of rehearsals? Cause if he is I might just have to delegate lights to someone else.”

  “Really?” Howard looked worried, and I suddenly remembered he was supposed to be taking it easy after his heart surgery. Avoiding stress, that sort of thing. Should have thought of that before I opened my big mouth.

  ‘Nah, just kidding!” I said, backpedalling fast. ‘It’ll be fine. He just took me by surprise that’s all. Not a problem. I’m sure we’ll be one big happy family in no time.”

  He shot me a disbelieving look. “Yeah right, I guess we’ll see. You might need to modify your usual language around him, Gazza. He’s a bit sensitive to blasphemy and swearing, so keep it clean if you can, will you?”

  It was my turn to look disbelieving. “He does know that this is a theatre, doesn’t he? Seriously, no swearing? Do the rest of the crew know?”

  “Tony does and he was supposed to brief the others.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chest slowly. “Hasn’t he done that yet?”

  I didn’t like the worry in his eyes so I fudged things a bit. “He probably did it when I was in the control room. You know I usually manage to miss those little chats. Sorry. I’ll make sure everyone has got the message before we leave tonight. You take it easy, Howard. Catch ya later.”

  I eased my way down the narrow wooden staircase and into the control room, smacking my forehead for panicking him like that. Really must learn to think first before I shoot my bloody mouth off. Oops, can’t say bloody round here any more. This show is going to be a real challenge for all of us. Theatre people aren’t known for their discretion and we don’t just call a garden implement a spade, we call it a bloody great shovel and give it to me now, ya bastard.

  The first time the whole company was in the theatre at the same time we were all walking on eggshells for fear of causing offence. I’d never heard the crew being so polite to each other and it was sickening – all because that blasted director was within earshot rehearsing onstage while we were doing set construction in the workshop.

  “Excuse me Gazza, could you pass me the drill please?” said Tony, when he’d usually say ‘oy, gimme the feckin’ drill, will ya?’

  “Of course my good man,” I said with exaggerated care. “Here you are – and can I pass you the appropriate bit to go with it?”

  He shot me a look that would have blistered paint.

  “Thank you, a 3 mil bit would be perfect.”

  I laid a bit of rag across my arm and presented the 3 mil bit to him like a waiter.

  “Your tool, m’lord.”

  “Feck off, knobhead!” he whispered, glancing guiltily over his shoulder to make sure Curtis wasn’t listening. Two of the girls heard us and burst into giggles until we shushed them. Honestly, it was like being back at school.

  Somehow we managed to keep up our best behaviour day after day, thinking before we opened our mouths and censoring our usual profanity. But it was quite a strain.

  Then came the technical. It was enough to try the patience of a saint. Technical rehearsals are always a pain in the butt but this one was worse than usual. Curtis Delaney kept changing his mind, and all the lighting levels we’d set the day before ended up totally buggered about.

  “Brighter in this scene I think, Gazza,” he called, when 12 hours ago he’d asked for a dim wash across the stage. Up in the control room I gritted my teeth and raised the level until he waved to say he was happy with it. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Got to hold it together for Howard’s sake. If Curtis has anything to complain about he’ll head straight for the president to sort it out and we don’t want that.

  “Gazza, could you come out here for a moment?”
r />   Oh lord, now what? I left the control room and came down the aisle to where Curtis was sitting in the stalls.

  “Could we change that red to a pink on the prompt side? It looks a little harsh at the moment.” Curtis looked up at me and I attempted to smile without revealing my gritted teeth.

  “Sure, just give me a second and I’ll change the gel.” I could see Tony looking at me wondering if I was going to explode. Not gonna happen. I have full control over my reactions. I got the ladder and set it up against the prompt-side wall to reach the light.

  The metal gel holder on the spotlight let go and fell onto the back of my hand, red hot from hours in close contact with the bulb.

  “Aargh fuc…crying out loud! Je...eepers!” I sucked my damaged hand and blew on it to ease the burn. Slipped in a new pink gel. Climbed back down.

  “Good save,” Tony murmured sarcastically as I put the ladder away. I leaned in close.

  “Bet you couldn’t keep it clean if it happened to you, ya bastard.”

  Perhaps he could be given the chance to try.

  The following night was the dress rehearsal. Only opening night to go after that then Curtis Bleedin’ Delaney would be out of our hair and we could all relax. But until then the rules about swearing and blasphemy were still in full force.

  Curtis gathered all the cast onstage and grouped them in a circle holding hands.

  “Let us give thanks for being together for this performance. Crew, come and join us please. This is the last chance we’ll have to be a company before the audience arrives tomorrow night.”

  “I’m not holding hands,” I muttered to Tony.

  “Yes you are,” he hissed. “Just keep the bugger happy one more day for God’s sake.”

  “Thank you crew, please join hands around our circle, that’s it. We shall celebrate our unity and achievements in this production.”

  Just as Curtis was launching into his spiel he was interrupted by a startled yell from Tony.

  “Jesus Christ what the fuck is that?”

  I’d palmed him a small frozen fish from my bait freezer and it lay gleaming on the stage where he’d flung it, a couple of scales catching the light as ice crystals melted.

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “Sorry Curtis,” said Tony, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

  Curtis gestured to everyone to lower their hands. He came over to us looking sorrowful.

  “I think you and I need to go and have a talk to the man upstairs, Tony,” he said, his voice deeply serious. “Would you come with me please?”

  Oh hell, he was going to complain to Howard! Oh man, I’m an idiot. I stepped forward and blocked his path.

  “Just a moment, Curtis. This was all my fault. I was playing a silly trick on Tony and it went badly wrong. I’m very sorry. Please let me make it up to you in some way so that innocent people aren’t made to suffer. There’s no need to take this upstairs, we can settle it here and now.”

  “Gazza, it’s the Man Upstairs who was blasphemed against,” he said gently. “I think both you and Tony should make amends to Him, don’t you?”

  And that’s how it was that Tony and I came to lead the entire company in singing the first three verses of All Things Bright and Beautiful before the curtain went up that night.

  THE END

  ***

  Just a quick read – hope you enjoyed it. My writing group did, laughing in all the right places. Now do that review thing, and have a crack at one of the other titles.

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