Mm, another one of my favorites. I actually went to go see Macbeth this weekend, and it wasn't that bad. Considering the horrible stage fighting. This might take a little extra knowledge of theater to get, and I'll try to explain what I didn't in the chapter at the end. I'll just save the rest of my rambling for then, okay?

Oh, yes. turboman, you write great stories, too. I'm still waiting for an update on Two Sharpays. Prongs, Riverdance is pretty cool, you have to admit. And yes, I knew exactly what you were talking about on ABC.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The popular simile goes "superstitious as sailors." This is a very good simile, in the same vein as "dead as a doornail," in that they both have inherent flaws. There are plenty of nails deader than that of a door. Perhaps a floor nail, or, most certainly, a coffin nail. In the same spirit, there are groups more superstitious than sailors, and the most superstitious lot is...well, you'd know by now. It's that of the theater.

And one of the worst transgressions you can perform in the world of theater is the uttering of "Macbeth" at any point. There's no point in speculating on what happens if someone says it, because no one would ever let the word pass his lips, and there's no point in coming up with a punishment for a crime, if the crime would never be committed, anyway.

Apparently, the play Macbeth has been plagued with bad luck ever since it was first performed by Shakespeare and his players. Deaths. Accidents. Freak accidents, which were different from accidents in that they usually involved weapons of a humorous nature. Like sporks. To even think about the Scottish play would cause infinitely horrible things to occur.

For this reason, Sharpay Evans paced backstage, the night before opening night, muttering said accursed word under her breath. The obviously appropriate word would be "rhubarb," but she was in a particularly vengeful mood. Opening night was tomorrow, and unfortunately, nothing horrible had befallen Gabriella.

Of course, this was not always a good thing, because while nothing violent had befallen Gabriella, she was still fudging a line or two in her Phantom scenes, and the look on Michael's carefully made-up face every time she stuttered was...heartbreaking? If her heart was far enough into their pseudo-relationship, it would be heartbreaking. Now, it was just hurtful.

Ryan slipped up next to Sharpay. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Rhubarb?" she said loudly. Gabi jumped and promptly missed her cue.

"Again," the director sighed. "And this time, Miss Montez, doing the scene correctly would be preferable. We're not going any where until you get it right."

"Aren't you supposed to be rehearsing with them?" Sharpay hissed to Ryan.

"I'm in the background struggling against a rope. All I have to do right now is sing. We're running low on eye-liner; they can't afford to waste anymore than they have to. Besides, I'm not important at this point," he whispered back. Sharpay nodded and resumed her fervent muttering. On stage, the ending scenes were being rehearsed. Again.

"Pit—"

"CUT." He didn't have to point out what went wrong there. Gabriella had started too low in pitch.

"Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth, Mac—Oh, my God," Sharpay said explosively as Gabriella once again began too low. She strode onstage and positioned the bewildered woman beside her. "Look. You start like this—

Pitiful creature of darkness

What kind of life have you known?

God gave me courage to show you...

You are not alone

"And then you slip on the ring," she went on, snatching the ring from Gabriella and pushing it on her own hand, "And then you kiss him, like this—" There's no point in describing the kiss between her and Michael. There aren't enough synonyms for "passionate."

They broke off, and, after catching her breath, Sharpay glared over her shoulder at Gabriella. "Do you think you can manage that?" Gabriella nodded timidly. "Then do it."

She stalked back to her pacing position, and listened with self-loathing as her role-stealer finished the scene perfectly. She'd better be listed on the bill, too. Preferably above Gabriella's name. After all, without her, they would be here for another five hours, and she couldn't pace for that long.

"Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth." That wasn't enough bad luck, she thought vehemently. Maybe live flowers. No.

Perhaps sitting under a ladder and breaking mirrors.

Where the Hell are the freaking ladders?

Influences: Dickens for the nail. My stint as prop manager for Bye Bye Birdie in high school. And, strangely, the making of featurette on the Roman Holiday DVD. Yes, I'm a dork; I watch Making of's.

Hmmm...I was always of the opinion that Sharpay would do anything for a production, no matter how much she hates what she does. She's dependent like that, but at the same time can't BELIEVE she just helped Gabriella. Somehow, though, selfishness will win out in the end. The most successful of all people are usually quite selfish.

Oh, right. "Rhubarb" was the word that we used in Bye Bye Birdie when, as background, we were supposed to look like we were saying meaningful things while the main person sang or speeched or whatever. Live flowers are bad luck. And usually, the night before opening night, the philosophy is "Do it until it's right." Nobody goes home until then. Probably because you don't have an extra day to iron out the faltering stuff.

Ack, but this is a turning point for you. Will Gabriella pull off opening night, like Amanda wants her to? Or will she collapse and have Sharpay replace her during Intermission? I'm really open to either choice, I have the possibilities outlined in my head. Wow. Long note

Ehm. Review.