The fifth grade play every year is always something related to Greek mythology. Gods, foolish mortals, epics, heroes... You name it, they've done it. Our play was the 12 Labors of Heracles (aka Hercules). At first, I was like, "Oy. Just great. My least favorite myth, and it has to be our play."
That was before we really started.
We learned our lines. We practiced at school. Finally, we started putting the whole production together. We got our costumes- the traditional Greek chiton. In my case, I used the one my brother used three years ago.
On Wednesday, we started performing. It was beautiful. Everyone knew what to do, everyone actually had expression. The shows were fantastic.
Until one day.
(Ha ha ha. I made it sound all dramatic-like.)
My parts were as follows: I was Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. I was part of the Titan Atlas. (Three kids total played Atlas-- we wore a big cape. I was the eyes of the operation, meaning my face was the only one showing. My accomplices were the arms.) I was the three headed dog Cerberus, though I only had one head. (The other two were off-duty.)
At our last performance, eeverything was great. I came, I saw, and I conquered-- not really. I died without a problem. Me and my other Atlasses got into our cape. We held our big globe-- and we dropped it. On stage.
Want to hear the best part of that?
Most people thought it was rehearsed. They thought we were absolutely hilarious.
As Cerberus, I got to eat a cookie on stage. It was yummy.
And at the after party, the whole grade went out for ice cream, and almost got arrested. But that, of course, is another story.