April 28, 2008
Tour Blog: Dayton — ‘The Hedge’ Redux
Written by Girth McDürchstein on April 28, 2008 5:11 AM
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Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08
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“It’s glorious,” I gasped as I stared up at the beautiful old stage of the Dayton Ecumenical Youth Theatre.
Turning to Margo, I said, “You know what we could do?”
She thought for a moment, then scowled. “No.”
“Come on,” I said. “It’d be perfect.”
“We don’t have the money,” she said. “Remember?”
“I’ll look backstage and see what kind of props, costumes, and set dressings they have just lying around,” I said. “It’s feasible.”
“Where are we going to get actors on such short notice?”
“We’ll act, just like we used to.”
“Okay, then,” Margo said. “Where are we going to get musicians on such short notice?”
I sighed. Margo had just dashed my dreams of doing a fully staged rendition of Girth McDürchstein’s ‘The Hedge’ for the first time in four years (you’ll remember, my attempt in celebration of The Hedge’s fifth anniversary didn’t go well).
We rode back to the motel in silence, and I quietly confessed to Mikey, Riffs, and Carl what I wanted to do. Maybe they’d have some ideas—they might know some skilled actors or musicians in Dayton.
“It’s a children’s theatre,” Mikey said, grinning. “Don’t they have a stock company of child-actors? You could use them.”
Carl chuckled. Riffs stared at the wallpaper with unusual fascination.
“I know you’re joking,” I said, “but that’s brilliant.”
Mikey protested, “No, Girth—”
“Let’s do it,” I said, walking away as Mikey attempted to grab me.
I yanked out my cell phone and dialed the manager of the youth theatre. “Hey, Mickey,” I said when he answered. “This is Girth McDürchstein.”
“Who?” Mickey Jeffries, the manager, asked.
“Uh…” I said. “Matty Phillips. From the Collective.”
“Oh, right,” Mickey said, his voice dripping with honey. “Ready for this evening?”
“Actually,” I said, “I thought we’d do something a little different, but I’ll need help from your company of children.”
“After all the good works you’ve done for children,” Mickey said, “you can have the world.”
“Fantastic,” I said. “We’ll do some brief auditions this afternoon to find out who’ll be right for the part, then rehearse tonight and tomorrow for the show tomorrow night.”
“Sounds great,” Mickey said. “So you’re doing a children’s musical. What’s it about?”
“A teenager spiraling into the depths of insanity, resulting in him murdering a prostitute and bellhop before committing suicide,” I said.
“Brilliant,” Mickey said. “Tackling all the violence in the youth today.”
“It really is,” I agreed.
“We can have the kids there by two o’clock,” Mickey said. “How’s that sound?”
“Good enough,” I said. “Thanks, Mickey.”
We hung up. I turned back to the others, who gave me horrified looks. None of them could speak, until Lacey finally broke the icy silence:
“Are you fucking insane?”
“What?”
“After everything that’s happened on this goddamn tour, you think it’s a good idea to have children star in a stage production of The Hedge? Please, tell me you aren’t going to include ‘Skullfucking Infants.’”
“I don’t see anything wrong with kids between the ages of six and 15 participating in a 25-minute dream ballet sequence in which they were special tuxedo costumes with fake spinning babies attached to the crotch,” I said. “Lose the bourgeois attitude, will ya?”
“This isn’t bourgeois, Girth,” Lacey said. “It’s illegal!”
“Look,” I said. “Half the script takes place with Girth as a kid, anyway. Was there something wrong with having little Charlie Maxwell onstage with us?
Margo sighed. “Well, we did have the support of his parents.”
“So we’ll make sure these kids have parental permission,” I said.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll all be orphans owned by the theatre,” Carl added.
“See,” I told Lacey, “why don’t you ever think positive like Carl?”
At the theatre, I held auditions. Most of the parents showed up with the kids, making it that much more difficult to cast. They acted insulted and outraged when I’d make basic directions like, “Take your top off.” I’m not a pervert—I just need to know which of these girls can pull off The One, and nipple size and shape has a meaningful impact on that decision.
With only a select few girls left, I cast them all at random. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.
Casting the boys was a little easier. The moment I mentioned each of them needed to kiss Sally Edwards, the girl I’d cast as The One, the line started to form. I cast the same little kid as both adult Girth and young Girth, hoping this wouldn’t confuse the audience too much.
I posted the cast list, along with a notice for everyone who made the cut to come in for a brief meeting, read-through, and initial blocking starting at 6:30 that evening. When 6:30 rolled around, though, only two of the eight kids showed up.
I had to ask why. Eddie Carlson, cast as Girth, shrugged and said, “Two of ‘em had homework, and the rest of them’s parents read the script and, well…won’t let them.”
“What?!” I roared. “It’s Saturday fuckin’ night—what kinda nerd fags do homework on a Saturday night?!” I turned to Margo, Lacey, and Carl. “What are we gonna do?”
“Hmm,” Margo said. “Carl and I can go help the kids with their homework—”
“Wait—” Carl protested.
“—and if Lacey can work up some public-domain images for the slide projections, we could probably get away with pulling off this show with five kids instead of eight. Just have most of ‘em double up on parts.”
“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” I said.
“On the contrary,” Margo said. “It’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
I couldn’t argue.
“Now, pick the most important kid and go after the parents,” Margo said. She lowered her voice and added, “With extreme prejudice.”
I nodded.
At the home of Tabitha Winslow, I sat on a sofa covered in clear plastic, sipping herbal tea as I described the true themes of Girth McDürchstein’s ‘The Hedge’—how it’s a positive show for kids to both watch and perform.
“We’re Christian people,” Mr. Winslow croaked. “I just can’t allow my daughter to participate in something so full of sex, drugs, and violence. Her character commits egregious acts of evil.”
I smiled. “But isn’t ‘evil’ merely ‘live’ spelled backwards?”
“What does that even mean?” Mrs. Winslow demanded.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “It sounded more convincing when Anton LaVey said it.”
“Will you please leave?” Mr. Winslow asked.
“Listen,” I said, “I don’t want your daughter doing anything you don’t want her to do. But I will pay her $50,000 for one night of work.”
“Really?” Mrs. Winslow looked suspicious.
“I’ll write a check right now,” I said. Per Margo’s orders, I kept a dummy checkbook on my person at all times. It funneled to a nonexistent Cayman Island bank, so the check wouldn’t technically bounce, but it wouldn’t clear, either. Nonetheless, we’d be out of town long before they ever knew.
I wrote the check, tore it off, and handed it to Mrs. Winslow. “She’s a very special girl,” I said, trying not to sound too desperate.
With that heroic and charitable act, Tabitha Winslow was back in the show, and we were back in business.
The show had kind of a weird, esoteric vibe thanks to our use of already-existing props and costumes. For instance, rather than cheerleading outfits, the girls who tormented ‘Girth’ dressed in chicken suits. I thought it was a nice, symbolic commentary on ‘Girth’ getting “hen-pecked” at a young age, but the audience just laughed.
I thought the show was a rousing success, all in all. The kid actors did even better than Margo and me, if you can believe it. Besides which, we all had fun with the experience. I didn’t make any of the kids cry nearly as often as I did Anna Lexington.
With the Dayton engagement behind us, we’ll be returning to L.A.
The Happy Heartland Tour is over.
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