The Bloody Doors Off

Three geese in a flock.
One flew east, one flew west,
One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.
O-U-T spells OUT,
Goose swoops down and plucks you out.

Children’s Nursery Rhyme

I remember seeing a high school production of One Flew Over The Cookoo’s Nest when I was 11 or 12. I remember it vividly not just because of the gripping storytelling, but also the acting. My brother Wayne played Billy Bobbitt. And though it was never shown on stage, I was traumatized to think Wayne had killed himself towards the end of the play.

I knew after that, I was gonna go into drama in high school.

Sure, I’d played ‘chorus’ in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown in grade 7 or 8 (and look at my head, would I have NOT made an excellent Charlie Brown?) but it didn’t light the spark.

Wayne’s performance did.

(I don’t think I’ve ever told him.)

The first year I was a gopher (‘go for this’ ‘go for that’) and happy to run to convenience stores and J.A.’s (best burgers from the high school days). I got my break doing a walk-on part (of an art dealer who falls through the trap door in the floor) because the actor had to bow out because of… mono? Doesn’t matter. It was my chance to shine.

And get conked on the head by said trap door as they close it up to make sure no one would fall though.

The entire play took place in the ‘dark’. The lights were up but we had to act as if there was a blackout.

I don’t remember the name of the play.

Mild concussion aside, I was on my way.

You know who, in my family, I expected to be involved in the arts after high school?

Wayne.

He was bloody brilliant. He could play Billy Bobbitt, Woody Allen, any role the director wrote specifically for him for each year’s Sears Drama Festival.

That man could’ve had a career.

He chose a career, and a family. And now he’s comfortably retired, living in Alberta with his high school sweetheart.

That’s a very long-winded way of talking about myself, today.

So, St. John’s Shorts? Runs from September 7^th to 26^th. I thought it was the 17^th to the 26^th. Big. Difference.

Got in touch with the actors. It was already a big commitment, travelling to the east coast to perform a 15 minute play a couple of times. Throw in covid protocols and things get a bit tougher.

Go from thinking it was 9 days to 20?

Neither hesitated. Both said yes.

So I sent in our confirmation.

Okay, I think I’m sidetracking again.

See, here’s the thing.

I’d always seen my writing as a passion project, something I did in my spare time.

Tonight, as I thought about all the hurdles we’d have to jump through, the effort its going to take.

I realized.

This is a second career.

I just don’t get paid for it.

Yet.