Oh shush, you’re equally, if not more, fantastic. It did? Well, don’t go all bodybuilder on me now, hun. Not good.
Nope, pretty sure your body takes the cake. Not turning into a muscle-toting jar-head. Roland’s been laughing at me about it though. He keeps saying he should’ve asked you to date me a long time ago if it would lead to the eventual use of the gym.
EJ:Yeah, but I'm not gonna ask you to go out and my condoms and lubes for me, I mean really since I'm gonna be there you need me to pick up Mary's birth control pills? Or are the condoms and lube gonna be okay?
EJ:You're lucky technology is jealous of our relationship and therefore hates me.
Grey:Again if you could find a riding crop and some handcuffs that'd be great. Just condoms. Really.
Grey:If you asked me I'd pick them up for you without issue. They're part of a completely normal and incredibly enjoyable activity-- which you should partake in.
Grey:It hates you because you cannot, and I'm quoting Mary, give it the proper lovin'.
Oh god, no. Don’t encourage them. What if they start writing fanfiction?
…I really hate it when you’re right. I’m so used to being the mother and not the sister that it clouds my judgement. I’ll let her know that she can talk to me about anything — though I do hope by now she’s gotten the message — and that I’ll be ready with sad movies and ice cream should the break up be awful.
I know. I used to film her stunts so she could go back and watch them to critique herself. Sparks explained it to me as “cowardice and disloyalty” and I somewhat agree with her that she kind of threw everyone a curveball when she started dating Ralph, but it’s obviously the fact that they hate him. Ali and Len are co-captains, and Len’s going along with it.
If it’s the saucey kind, I’ll read it. Encourage their creativity!
…I usually love it when I’m right. It’s a rarity. That’s all you can do.
Lenora’s going along with this when she’s dating Eric, an act that will earn her the ire of her little nitwits? Willow is the kindest and most energetic member they have. So what if she’s dating Rephael? That’s not a crime. I’d… I’d talk to Eric about that but I’m very sure that bringing it up with him will cause tension. Did they really kick her out for that or are they using something else to justify it?
We are, according to the females (and a large number of males, don’t exclude them from fangirling) of the drama club: Mayson. Thoughts?
I see where you’re coming from. I’d like nothing better than to give him the chance, but it’s not my own mental/emotional health I’m risking — it’s my little sister’s. I know I have to let her figure things out on her own…but I don’t know if I can let her get a broken heart in the process.
And another thing that doesn’t sit well with me — did you know that Aliyah’s kicked her off of the Cheerios? She worked so hard for that, Grey.
….I like it. We should put it on a plaque. IN the dressing room and in the A/V Club room. With a picture of us underneath it. It has to be a proper and sophisticated pictures so I’ll wear a suit, you’ll wear a dress and we can use those mustaches we won at the Festival a few weeks back. We’ll look dapper.
Mary, heartbreak is something you cannot shield her from. You just can’t. You can prepare her. Tell her about your own experiences —not all of them, just the ones you’re comfortable with— and hope she’ll listen to your guidance. You need to let her start forging a path.
….Really? I saw her cartwheeling four times a day for weeks. She practiced at school too. Why would Aliyah kick her out anyways— I though Lenora was captain?
I’d chalk it up to fate, or the fact that we know each other so well, but I think we’re just that awesome. Did you know that the drama drones have given us a ship name?
You just want me to play nurse, don’t you?
I’ve given him numerous chances and he’s blown most of them. I’m at my wits’ end, Grey.
They’ve given us a ship name? As in that thing fangirls do when they’re talking about relationships on television?
The imagery that question implies is highly suggestive and— Yes. I would love that if you’re up to it. Call me a willing patient.
Well, think of it this way… You could’ve ignored the hell out of me the past five years. You also could’ve cut ties with me after you bailed me and EJ out of jail the third time. Look at us now. People change. I’m not saying don’t keep an eye on him just make it clear that you’d trust him a bit more if he shapes up. Give him the chance to do that.
It’s vastly overrated, being normal. Good thing you and I are both insane to a fair degree, or I don’t think we could have ever been friends.
No! No heart-attacks! Does this mean I’ll have to revive you?
I didn’t even know they were dating until a few days ago, and then the boy had the audacity to hide out in my house without letting anyone but Willow know. I’m just upset that she suddenly feels the need to hide everything from me, as well as date that…that idiot. I can’t exactly forbid her from seeing him — that’s our parents’ jurisdiction.
I wouldn’t choose anyone else to be insane with actually. Eric contains the brand of unhinged abnormal tendencies that can only brought out by a couple of shots of whiskey and even then, it’s a little too hectic for my blood. Nadia’s too attached to her spiritual endeavors to stray far from what she considers normal. You’re just the right type. We’re finely tuned to the waves of oddness— my dear Lady Mary.
I’m sure whatever tactics you’d like to employ in attempts to revive me will be numerous, successful and enjoyable.
Don’t smack me for this and maybe I’ll be risking the great joy of mutual adoration of our fabulous bodies but… maybe you should give the kid a chance?
You could never be anything close to the common, nihilistic and uninteresting normal people around here, babe. Even if I wasn’t around. No heart attacks! Haven’t I forbid your death? Even if it’s love-induced.
As do I. I’ll be spending some time with Willow tomorrow —it’s a long, long story but just know that Rephael Puckerman is kind of dead to me at the moment — but after that, I’m all yours.
Sickly and contagious normalcy. It’s on the top of my list of 100 Aspects of Life I Should Loathe By My Second Cup Of Coffee. Why be normal when being abnormal, or any levels between there and insanity, can lead to being extraordinary? I can feel my chest tightening a bit here. It might be too late.
I heard. I thought about you when one of my boys mentioned it. First thoughts were: She’s actually letting Willow Tree out? With a boy? A Lima teenager of the male persuasion? I’ll wait with bated breath.
Oh, am I distracting you now? I’m sorry, Grey. It’s not sudden so much as revived— I do read things other than scripts and the assigned reading we have in school. I decided long ago not to deny myself the pleasure of beautiful things, and prose is one of them. Attractive? I’ll keep that in mind.
This weekend, hmm? Well, conveniently, my schedule just so happens to be clear…I’ll get the candles if you get the wine.
No, no, please. Continue with your fabulous ability. I could use a break and I haven’t had my daily dose of Lady Mary. Without it I might revert back to the ranks of the maladjusted, authority-despising andsulking youth— Like the rest of the normal adolescents around here. Who wants that? You’re going to cause a heart-attack one day. You are. I’ll fall flat on my back with a smile on my face.
Good. We’ll have a nice family dinner, Joseph and Mother will leave, Roland has a date— Overnight date, and Shay and Hallie are spending the weekend in Columbus. The cosmos have aligned for a perfect evening. I love it when a plan comes together.
I could always sing you ‘La Vie En Rose’? It’s a French love poem set to music, so you’d have the trifecta — poetry, me speaking French, and me singing. Just say the words and I’m there, hun. Sounds like my kind of night.
Of course, you would tell me this while I’m in the middle of working on something but it’s mostly my fault seeing as I brought this on myself. Is there a reason behind your sudden attraction to the written arts —which is greatly appreciated and very attractive. Have you heard about the charity event for disabled veterans? It’s being held sometime this weekend and, as usual, Joseph has to attend.
“One half of me is yours, the other half yours / Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,/ And so all yours.”
Shakespeare. The Tempest.
Yeah, I should really be there for you when you start to wax poetic. There’s a distinct feeling— somewhere in me, it’s there —that it’d translate more if I was there to see it. Live. With a few candles and maybe some wine.
I don’t mind lost causes. They’re a bit complicated and—
I’ve got an idea. We’ll grab EJ, maybe see if we can pick Lenora on the way, and have a miniture film festival in the backyard. A Horrid-SFX Film Festival. Covering hysterically horrid special effects across… the 1990s? I mean— Godzilla for example. It’s laughable.
No profanity was used, but get this — he’s taking a pay raise. He’s in charge of running the entire district, I know, but you’d assume he’d be able to take one for the team.
People like her don’t understand the amount of work you guys have to put into our rallies and events — they just think the A/V Club waves a wand and everything runs smoothly. And now the entire slate of shows has to be rethought — Drama can barely afford royalties as is. Goodbye Wicked, hello Mikado. I’m gonna kill someone, I swear.
Oh, Well— Anything to keep his fat behind stuffed in pastries and quiche.
I’ll just smile. She’ll ask about the set up for the pep rally and if it’s not up to her standards then there isn’t much I can do. It’s out of my hands.
…the superintendent’s not going to like the voicemail I just left him.
So it’s the entire Fine and Applied Arts departments getting budget cuts? Not a single sport, I’m guessing.
I’d disapprove due to the off chance of those voicemails being used at PTA meetings but I’m a little too steamed to care.
5%. If Principal Woodard— Pardon, Medusa of the Seriously Tweaked Eyebrows— thinks she’s getting anything done at the Pep Rally, she’s in serious trouble. Most of our lights need new bulbs, cables and don’t get me started on the computer— anti-virus programs, malware spotters and firewalls and new software updates.
Rosemary Pilkington had an arc that was atypical of most musicals — instead of the usual “boy-meets-girl, boy-gets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl back” storyline, How To Succeed was a little more complicated. While at first seeming like your usual ingenue — doe-eyes, innocence, and all — Rosemary was ultimately clever, her ultimate goal being to marry the male lead, J. Pierrpont Finch. Her fatal flaw, however, was the fact that Ms. Pilkington was painfully shy.
It was something a lot of people didn’t pick up on, Rosemary’s ability to be cunning. Mary tried to convey that the best to the audience — being a little flirty whenever she had an aside, making her voice sound a little sultry if she sung at Finch — they were little things, unimportant in the musical overall, but necessary when developing your character. As the musical progressed and the intermission came and went, the young blonde felt her nerves disappear. Committing the show to memory early on had served as a huge asset, as Mary was able to truly connect with her character in such a way that stepping onstage felt like a total transformation.
She felt her heart leap with every complicated dance move, chills run down her spine whenever the actors sang in harmony, and every positive crowd reaction — laughter, gasping, nervous titters — gave Mary the confidence necessary to move on to the next scene. Time seemed to move in tandem with the cast’s high energy levels — any blunders or missed lines went unnoticed, each scene passing in a blur until they reached the very last number, Brotherhood of Man. Like every comedy, How To Succeed had a happy ending, where Finch became Chairman of the Board and Rosemary, his dutiful fiancee. The finale was where Mary truly let loose — her energy when dancing and singing with the rest of her company was like that of a firecracker’s — mostly because she was wildly happy.
The stage seemed to thrum to the beat of over a hundred actors in synchronization, their feet sending vibrations through Mary’s chest. Their final number ended with a flourish, Mary and Christian ending up at the top of a literal ‘corporate ladder’ (the final gag of the show), and just like that — it was over. Her first opening night with a professional company, conquered like a mountain climber scaling the side of a cliff. The lights went down long enough for everyone to scuttle backstage, coming right back up as the orchestra started the music for the curtain call.
Mary was one of the last members of the cast to make her curtain call (being the female lead, it was customary) and the young blonde made her way downstage center to take her bows. Her mind was moving though an elated daze; she vaguely registered a fellow cast member clapping a hand on her shoulder in encouragement, as well as the cheers emanating from Nadia and her other schoolmates that eclipsed the rest of the thunderous applause. In the sea of attendees, Mary’s eyes found Greysons’s, and she let out a slight giggle before winking cheekily, blowing him a kiss. Turning to offer applause to the real star of the show, Mary hugged Christian quickly, yelling over the crowd in his ear, “You were astounding, Chris!”
He laughed, nudging her with his elbow. “They’re really clapping for you, sweetheart. Look.” She followed his gaze out into the rest of the crowd, some of whom seemed to even be chanting her name. Moved, tears came to her eyes as she joined hands with the rest of the cast for their final bow. As the lights came down for the last time, she realized with a start: ’I belong here.’
“Alright! Let’s go and celebrate in sty-y-le.” Nadia sang out. “Pig out at Santiago’s!”
Greyson smiled a bit as she chatted among her group —her gleeks, as she loved to say— and slowly herded them out of the theater lobby. She seemed reminiscent of a mother hen pushing and prodding at her little chicks. The girl with all her little ducks in a row. They were all probably heading out to eat, drink and be a little more merry than usual. The New Directions were all about that. Under Yesenia’s reign they had been party animals, as usually, but they were a bit more controlled. With Nadia it seemed she let them run lose every once in a while. He tried to stifle a laugh as she turned, the last of the students exiting through the open door and signed ‘Save Me’ at him. He wouldn’t have recognized it if they all hadn’t come up with it— those in the lower realms of the WMHS society —to signal for aid during a slushie incident.
The young man smiled to himself as he saw a few in the production crew and supporting cast lolling about. They were greeting family members and chatting amicably as he became content with standing back against the nearest wall, his head resting on the wall-papered surface and his eyes closing slightly. There was a relief washing through his system at the moment that he recognized as something reminiscent to what Mary should’ve been feeling. That small wave of emotion, carried by jolts of leftover adrenaline, that helped to secure his existence in the here and now. Minimal errors. Maximum potential achieved. Everything had gone on without any major issues. He was more than glad, but at the moment he cared more about the slightly assertive blonde than anything else.
He shifted in his post, bouquet in hand, feeling slightly uncomfortable in his suit. He generally never wore them with the exception of a few cases. School dances. EJ’s debate competitions. Snobbish parties held by the elite of the city, where Joseph and his family— the entire Corcoran brood— were forced to attend. He could’ve never get used to the feel of the buttoned up shirt or the tie. The suit was incredibly black and when he first put it on Joseph claimed they should cast him in a Bond remake. He and Roland spent the rest of the hour sneaking around the home in their suits. They were seventeen. They were allowed to have a little fun. At least he was looking his best. Shined shoes. Great suit. Silky tie. Very tight shirt. All that was missing was the one who would appreciate it the most. Someone like—
Which won’t be until a whole lot of idiots realize that they’re watching crap. So, a while.
Sure, if you want. But yeah, maybe not. Perhaps I’ll check with the rest or something. Who knows.
I figure most of them do but it’s all about status quo.
Knowing them, they’ll take it in stride and use it as a motto. The New Brat Pack. Which reminds me, I need to see if I’ve been sent the blueprints for a couple of layouts this year. They’re trying to push for Sweeney Todd.
And you’re Grey, right? Drama brats, huh? Is that what you call us?
Considering my outlook on the world isn’t an all-around cheerful one the show keeps playing on the right topics. It’s much better than the reality television garbage they show these days. American Idol Season 34? No thanks.
Greyson Corcoran. It’s a habit I should kick— seeing as I help out with production. Then again, Mary’s never been bothered by it too much and the brats don’t seem to mind either.