Enter: Little Red Riding Hood
A small girl walked slowly down the cardboard path. To fit in with to her character, she had a red cape and hood that looked like it was made for someone a few sizes bigger, and a blonde wig. Viewed closely, her face was covered with pimples and had makeup smeared all over it. She began to sweat, the hot stage lights glaring on her small figure. Little Red Riding Hood, as she was known in the play, walked back to stage left and rehersed her entrance once again. "One, two, three, and skip!" she mumbled to herself. Her throat was burning and her legs ached from doing this particular scene over and over again for the past- she checked her watch- forty-five minutes. Again -for the forty-sixth time, to be precise- the wolf (her good friend Roger) bounded across the stage and confronted her. He looked even more miserable than Riding Hood. "Why hello little girl!"
Riding Hood looked around for her fellow cast members, who were all sitting back stage and drinking punch. She paused. "Stephen," she bellowed. A lage man walked into the bright lights and winced. "Ah, yes, m'dear? How's your scene coming along?". Riding Hood glowered. "Stephen, we've been working on this scene for forty-five minutes! Can we stop yet? This scene isn't going to get any better!"
"Opening night is tomorrow so everything needs to be perfect! Lets see how it is!". Riding Hood and Roger dragged back to their places again. Riding Hood walked down the path, the Wolf pranced out, everything was going as it had the past forty-six times. "Why hello little girl!" "Hello Mister Wolf", she heard herself pronounce in that horrible childish voice. They ran through the rest of the scene, and their bumbling yet lovable director Stephen declared it, "passable".
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Opening night of "Into The Woods", directed by Stephen Tromben, by the Firestone High School Thespians, March 14, 2005
The lights dimmed, the audience quieted, and Riding Hood felt her stomach sink backstage. The stage lights grew bright and everyone's attention was focused on the three "houses" containing the ingredients for tonight's success. The the conductor cued the orchestra, and they began to play as the narrorator begn speaking. Suddenly, Cinderella's piercing soprano voice cut through the steady beat of the pit. "I wish!". Riding Hood watched all that they had worked for amazingly come to life, all of it fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle that you had been working on for a month, as you ceremonially slid the last piece in and saw the whole picture, completed. She saw her cue and stepped onto the stage.
Suddenly Riding Hood felt a wave of naseua pass over her, and the Wolf gave her a concerned look. Everything began shifting, and she collapsed. Everything became strange and feverish, and Riding Hood felt the hot stage lights she was lying under turn cool. The sound of birds, real live birds (in the theatre? How?) startled her awake. She was lying on a cool dirt pathway under live trees in a forest brimming with sunlight. (Stephen wouldnt go this far for a joke, how could he? There was a live audience right in front of her just a minute ago, and now there was this). Riding Hood stood up and ignored the dizziness that came to her head. She looked around, and took a step forward. Immidiately, she tripped over a basket containing a loaf of French Bread and a few cinnamon buns. (Wait, it couldn't be!) Riding Hood examined herself. No signs of bruises, no remaining naseau, it looked like she was okay!
It was rather hot in the forest, so Riding Hood reached around to take off the shoddy prop cloak, but it, in fact, was embroidered velvet! This wasn't her cloak! Suddenly, Riding Hood felt a chill go down her spine. Carefully, and very, very slowly, she tugged on a lock of glistening golden hair hanging in front of her face. Ouch! (This has got to be a dream, I don't have blonde hair, I don't really have a nice red cloak, I shouldn't be in a forest with a basket full of baked items!)
A twig snapped a few yards behind her, and a slick voice carefully sang, "Hello, little girl." (This cannot be happening!) Then her sensible side kicked in. (There's a wolf behind me, I know whats going to happen, I don't know where I am or how I got here, I might as well just go along with the story.) "Hello Mister Wolf," she piped. "What's
your rush, you're missing all the flowers...The sun won't set for hours!" Out of numb response, Riding Hood responded, "Mother said, straight ahead, not to delay or be misled!"
They continued this little charade, and the hairy, smelly wolf that wa definitely not Roger scooped her in his arms and danced with her, one of the scariest moments of her life. Just a few inches away from her nose lay fur, smelly with grease and blood, on a wolf who definitely knew what he was doing here. On her cue, she struggled from the wolf and stood a few feet away. "Good-bye, Mister Wolf". "Good-bye little girl. And hellooooo!"