At the same time that Nemo was receiving instructions from his new master, the
Cooper family--father Mel, mother Valerie, and the children, Quinn, Logan,
Odette, Van, Dallin, and baby Megan--was enjoying a dinner of tuna casserole
and candied yams.
"I ran into Roger Simon and his new lawyer today," said Mrs. Cooper, who was loading her plate with yams.
"Really," Mr. Cooper remarked. "Who's the lucky fellow?"
"All I know is, his name's Gary," his wife replied, "and he's a rat."
As they ate and conversed merrily, the doorbell rang. "Come in," called Mrs. Cooper.
The door flew open, and the warmly-dressed Muffy entered. "Hi, everybody," she said cheerily. "Hi, Van."
Quinn sighed bitterly. "Always during dinner," she complained. "Someone forgot to put our names on the no-call list, and it wasn't me."
"Come in, Muffy," said Mr. Cooper. "Join us for dinner."
"Sorry we don't have any caviar," quipped Odette.
Muffy closed the door, placed her coat on a nearby rack, and took a seat at the dinner table next to Van.
"So how's Uppity Downs treating you?" Van asked her.
"Well, I'm not failing as many tests as before," replied Muffy as she spooned some casserole onto her plate. "If it weren't for Mrs. Stiles' help, I'd be looking at eternity in fourth grade."
"I hear the kids there are, like, total snobs," commented Logan with a mouth full of yams.
"What's wrong with snobs?" asked Muffy.
"They're really nice people," said Odette, "once you get rich."
"I want to be a snob when I grow up," said Dallin.
"Then take your elbows off the table," Mrs. Cooper told him.
"How's your telepathic friend, Muffy?" asked Odette.
"They still haven't figured out how she lost her memory," Muffy answered. "And she's not telepathic anymore."
"You don't believe in that telepathic stuff, do you?" Quinn asked Odette.
"I'll believe anything before I'll believe that Muffy Crosswire was responsible for my rescue," said Odette bitingly.
Van glared at her indignantly. "Odette, don't you think a little gratitude is in order?"
The table fell silent. All eyes turned to Van.
"If it weren't for Muffy, you wouldn't be here," he continued. "But all you can do is insult her. I'm tired of it. Muffy's not as bad as you say."
"Enough, children," said Mrs. Cooper. "Let's just be grateful that God in his mercy brought Odette back to us."
"Mom..." Odette began to say.
The others at the table looked at the swan girl, whose eyes were full of bitterness and sorrow.
"I haven't told you everything that happened to me," said Odette, facing each of her family members in turn. "It was awful. I prayed and prayed that God would take me out of that place, but nothing happened. Now if God really cared about me, why didn't he answer?"
Muffy and the Coopers became speechless. Finally Mr. Cooper spoke.
"I don't know the answer to that. But maybe Reverend Fulsome does."
Quinn rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Quinn!" said Mrs. Cooper sharply.
"We do not, and cannot understand..." said Quinn in a mocking imitation of the reverend.
"That's enough." Mrs. Cooper's stern expression turned into one of compassion for Odette. "You'll just have to accept that God had a reason for allowing this to happen, and you'll be a better person because of it."
"But I'm not a better person," Odette replied. "I feel totally different inside, and it's not an improvement."
"I know exactly how you feel," Muffy said to her.
"You do?" Odette appeared quite surprised.
"One day I decided to dye my hair purple just for the heck of it," Muffy recounted. "I just felt...eeevil inside."
Quinn and Odette shot angry looks at Muffy. Logan, Van, and Dallin started to laugh hysterically.
----
"Spirit, remove me from this place!" pleaded Mr. Baker, dressed in a 19th-century nightgown and made up to look like an elderly man.
"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said Fern, who wore a white robe and white powder in her hair. "That they are what they are, do not blame me."
"Remove me!" cried Mr. Baker. "I cannot bear it! Haunt me no longer!"
Having heard this, Fern quickly backed away into the shadows until she could not be seen.
The house lights came on, and Mr. Baker applauded cheerfully. "Very good, Fern. Very good."
"Thanks, Mr. Baker," Fern responded.
As she left the stage, Mr. Haney entered, clad in festive holiday robes. His was the role of the Ghost of Christmas Present.
Fern took a seat at the back of the theatre, next to her new friend, Greta.
"Not a bad performance," Greta commended her. "Although in the original book, Scrooge actually struggles with the ghost."
"Is that so?" Fern mused.
"Yes," Greta went on, "if that can be called a struggle in which the ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary..."
Fern and Greta watched with interest as Mr. Baker and Mr. Haney acted out the visit of the second spirit to Ebenezer Scrooge.
"Have they no refuge or resource?" asked Mr. Baker, gesturing toward the two wretchedly-dressed children, Ignorance and Want.
"Are there no prisons?" replied Mr. Haney in a mocking voice. "Are there no workhouses?"
Prunella, seated in the sound booth, pushed a button to produce the sound of a clock striking midnight. She then manipulated some levers, and a hooded, robed figure, suspended from the rafters by cords, floated onto the stage. Mr. Haney slowly receded into the darkness.
"That doesn't look realistic at all," Greta whispered to Fern.
"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come has no lines," Fern muttered.
"Maybe so," said Greta quietly, "but an actor can still make an impression without saying anything."
A short while later the rehearsal came to a close as Scrooge and the Cratchits enjoyed a holiday feast, and Floyd Walton as Tiny Tim uttered his trademark line, "And God bless us, every one."
Prunella turned on the house lights, and the actors began to congratulate each other on their fine performances.
As they made their way to the dressing rooms, Fern and Greta met with Mr. Baker, who played the dual roles of Scrooge and director.
"This is a very fine production, Mr. Baker," said Greta, "but I think it would be more convincing if you hired an actor to play the part of..."
She stopped speaking when she noticed that the hippo man was staring directly into her eyes in an obsessive manner.
He put out his hand and tried to touch her forehead, but she stepped back, suddenly looking frightened.
"That lump on your forehead," said Mr. Baker curiously. "Has it always been there?"
Fern examined Greta's face and observed that there was, indeed, a slightly raised area about an inch above her eyes, as if a growth on her skull were trying to protrude through the skin.
"Uh...it was an accident," Greta answered nervously. "I fell down and hit my head on the corner of a table."
"I see," said Mr. Baker as he pulled back his hand. "Tell me, do you have any interest in acting? I think you definitely have potential."
"Thank you," Greta replied. "It so happens that I've been participating in the Camelot Community Theatre's productions for a little over a year now."
"Camelot?" Mr. Baker's eyes narrowed. "Strange, I've been to all their shows, and I've never seen you."
"I mostly work behind the stage," Greta explained. "Costume and set design. We need to go now, Mr. Baker."
"I'll see you tomorrow night." The director walked past them, turning his head for one last intrigued glance at Greta.
"I don't like the way he looks at me," said Greta as she and Fern entered the women's dressing room.
"He looked at me the same way when I started acting," Fern told her. She placed her head underneath a running faucet and started to wash the ghostly makeup from her face and hair. "You're a little young to be designing costumes and sets," she remarked.
Greta didn't answer, but simply gazed into the mirror and ran her hand over the lump on her forehead.
(To be continued...)
"I ran into Roger Simon and his new lawyer today," said Mrs. Cooper, who was loading her plate with yams.
"Really," Mr. Cooper remarked. "Who's the lucky fellow?"
"All I know is, his name's Gary," his wife replied, "and he's a rat."
As they ate and conversed merrily, the doorbell rang. "Come in," called Mrs. Cooper.
The door flew open, and the warmly-dressed Muffy entered. "Hi, everybody," she said cheerily. "Hi, Van."
Quinn sighed bitterly. "Always during dinner," she complained. "Someone forgot to put our names on the no-call list, and it wasn't me."
"Come in, Muffy," said Mr. Cooper. "Join us for dinner."
"Sorry we don't have any caviar," quipped Odette.
Muffy closed the door, placed her coat on a nearby rack, and took a seat at the dinner table next to Van.
"So how's Uppity Downs treating you?" Van asked her.
"Well, I'm not failing as many tests as before," replied Muffy as she spooned some casserole onto her plate. "If it weren't for Mrs. Stiles' help, I'd be looking at eternity in fourth grade."
"I hear the kids there are, like, total snobs," commented Logan with a mouth full of yams.
"What's wrong with snobs?" asked Muffy.
"They're really nice people," said Odette, "once you get rich."
"I want to be a snob when I grow up," said Dallin.
"Then take your elbows off the table," Mrs. Cooper told him.
"How's your telepathic friend, Muffy?" asked Odette.
"They still haven't figured out how she lost her memory," Muffy answered. "And she's not telepathic anymore."
"You don't believe in that telepathic stuff, do you?" Quinn asked Odette.
"I'll believe anything before I'll believe that Muffy Crosswire was responsible for my rescue," said Odette bitingly.
Van glared at her indignantly. "Odette, don't you think a little gratitude is in order?"
The table fell silent. All eyes turned to Van.
"If it weren't for Muffy, you wouldn't be here," he continued. "But all you can do is insult her. I'm tired of it. Muffy's not as bad as you say."
"Enough, children," said Mrs. Cooper. "Let's just be grateful that God in his mercy brought Odette back to us."
"Mom..." Odette began to say.
The others at the table looked at the swan girl, whose eyes were full of bitterness and sorrow.
"I haven't told you everything that happened to me," said Odette, facing each of her family members in turn. "It was awful. I prayed and prayed that God would take me out of that place, but nothing happened. Now if God really cared about me, why didn't he answer?"
Muffy and the Coopers became speechless. Finally Mr. Cooper spoke.
"I don't know the answer to that. But maybe Reverend Fulsome does."
Quinn rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Quinn!" said Mrs. Cooper sharply.
"We do not, and cannot understand..." said Quinn in a mocking imitation of the reverend.
"That's enough." Mrs. Cooper's stern expression turned into one of compassion for Odette. "You'll just have to accept that God had a reason for allowing this to happen, and you'll be a better person because of it."
"But I'm not a better person," Odette replied. "I feel totally different inside, and it's not an improvement."
"I know exactly how you feel," Muffy said to her.
"You do?" Odette appeared quite surprised.
"One day I decided to dye my hair purple just for the heck of it," Muffy recounted. "I just felt...eeevil inside."
Quinn and Odette shot angry looks at Muffy. Logan, Van, and Dallin started to laugh hysterically.
----
"Spirit, remove me from this place!" pleaded Mr. Baker, dressed in a 19th-century nightgown and made up to look like an elderly man.
"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said Fern, who wore a white robe and white powder in her hair. "That they are what they are, do not blame me."
"Remove me!" cried Mr. Baker. "I cannot bear it! Haunt me no longer!"
Having heard this, Fern quickly backed away into the shadows until she could not be seen.
The house lights came on, and Mr. Baker applauded cheerfully. "Very good, Fern. Very good."
"Thanks, Mr. Baker," Fern responded.
As she left the stage, Mr. Haney entered, clad in festive holiday robes. His was the role of the Ghost of Christmas Present.
Fern took a seat at the back of the theatre, next to her new friend, Greta.
"Not a bad performance," Greta commended her. "Although in the original book, Scrooge actually struggles with the ghost."
"Is that so?" Fern mused.
"Yes," Greta went on, "if that can be called a struggle in which the ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary..."
Fern and Greta watched with interest as Mr. Baker and Mr. Haney acted out the visit of the second spirit to Ebenezer Scrooge.
"Have they no refuge or resource?" asked Mr. Baker, gesturing toward the two wretchedly-dressed children, Ignorance and Want.
"Are there no prisons?" replied Mr. Haney in a mocking voice. "Are there no workhouses?"
Prunella, seated in the sound booth, pushed a button to produce the sound of a clock striking midnight. She then manipulated some levers, and a hooded, robed figure, suspended from the rafters by cords, floated onto the stage. Mr. Haney slowly receded into the darkness.
"That doesn't look realistic at all," Greta whispered to Fern.
"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come has no lines," Fern muttered.
"Maybe so," said Greta quietly, "but an actor can still make an impression without saying anything."
A short while later the rehearsal came to a close as Scrooge and the Cratchits enjoyed a holiday feast, and Floyd Walton as Tiny Tim uttered his trademark line, "And God bless us, every one."
Prunella turned on the house lights, and the actors began to congratulate each other on their fine performances.
As they made their way to the dressing rooms, Fern and Greta met with Mr. Baker, who played the dual roles of Scrooge and director.
"This is a very fine production, Mr. Baker," said Greta, "but I think it would be more convincing if you hired an actor to play the part of..."
She stopped speaking when she noticed that the hippo man was staring directly into her eyes in an obsessive manner.
He put out his hand and tried to touch her forehead, but she stepped back, suddenly looking frightened.
"That lump on your forehead," said Mr. Baker curiously. "Has it always been there?"
Fern examined Greta's face and observed that there was, indeed, a slightly raised area about an inch above her eyes, as if a growth on her skull were trying to protrude through the skin.
"Uh...it was an accident," Greta answered nervously. "I fell down and hit my head on the corner of a table."
"I see," said Mr. Baker as he pulled back his hand. "Tell me, do you have any interest in acting? I think you definitely have potential."
"Thank you," Greta replied. "It so happens that I've been participating in the Camelot Community Theatre's productions for a little over a year now."
"Camelot?" Mr. Baker's eyes narrowed. "Strange, I've been to all their shows, and I've never seen you."
"I mostly work behind the stage," Greta explained. "Costume and set design. We need to go now, Mr. Baker."
"I'll see you tomorrow night." The director walked past them, turning his head for one last intrigued glance at Greta.
"I don't like the way he looks at me," said Greta as she and Fern entered the women's dressing room.
"He looked at me the same way when I started acting," Fern told her. She placed her head underneath a running faucet and started to wash the ghostly makeup from her face and hair. "You're a little young to be designing costumes and sets," she remarked.
Greta didn't answer, but simply gazed into the mirror and ran her hand over the lump on her forehead.
(To be continued...)
