So I promptly adjusted my attitude, put on my CD walkman and got to work. I felt just like Cinderella! Every once in a while I would stop and pick up one of the swords or foils and hold it firm in my grasp. My imagination would run wild and I would swing the heavy blade about like I was some new and barely trained immortal backed into a corner and defending her very life. Then I would put it away and hang hats on the walls, clothes on the racks, and sweep the floor. But in my mind I was working frantically on the latest installment of my Highlander fiction. I have already decided that Sadie (a female immortal of my own creation) and Methos are going to have a very heated discussion about the nature of betrayal and the definition of abandonment.
After a few hours of Cinderella duty, the green room was spotless, the swords were stashed back in their barrel and there was nothing left to do. They told me to just sit at the desk and answer the phone if it rings. Jeez, that's EXACTLY the kind of job I want now. Just sit there and look cute and if the phone rings you can answer it. In the mean time...surf LiveJournal, work on your fiction, read books and memorize lines. Yes, that is EXACTLY what I want.
Rehearsal followed. I was bored out of my mind. The only hint I got of actually loving it again was when I wondered onto the stage next door for a minute to retrieve our props. Looking out at the seats, I remembered what it was like to have an audience. I remembered the way their energy fed me and my emotions became theirs. Like some cyclical exchange between us...the audience becomes a lover...it feeds me...I need it. I remembered that only for a brief moment. And then it was back into a stodgy, claustrophobic room to rehearse. Uneventful, tiring, pointless rehearsing followed. The only fun moment was when James screwed up his lines and said, "Dad, when do we get to have weed on our cereal." I fell over laughing. Oh yes, and Susan decided the "backstory" behind her character was that she was having an affair with my husband. So every time she messed up her lines I would call out "slut!" and "quit schtooping my husband and get your lines straight you tramp!"
So what would it look like if Duncan joined the dark side...