Disclaimer: Sorry this took so long!!! I had three shots at the doctor's office on Tuesday (Three! It hurt to type!), hung out with GofG on Wednesday, and performed community service today. So I finally have an update. Filler/Benny torture. I hope you enjoy! -LostOzian
"How did the searching go?" Mark asked as the various 'Recovery' teams returned; Joanne with Maureen, Roger with Mimi, Collins with Angel, and poor Mark stuck with the reluctant Benny. They had been first to return- resident yuppie scum getting uncomfortable in alleyways full of 'influenza hotels'- toting bags of trash which served as treasure to their little operation: A skeleton of an umbrella, a burlap potato sack only eaten through in one corner, a nd wadded-up balls of cellophane (Plastic wrap. But cellophane sounds cooler.) were Mark and Benny's discoveries.
"Pretty good," Collins said, he and Angel first to return after Mark and Benny. The professor dumped his finds on the ever-useful Magical Metal Table of Saving Lives. "Chicken wire, no idea what that's doing in the city, old PDC piping for monkey wings, and old hand towels." Collins hefted a sample. Benny visibly cringed.
"What'cha got, Angel?" Mark asked, ignoring Benny's reaction to the dilapidated dishrag.
"Like, five copies of 'Where the Lilies Bloom' by Vera and Bill Cleaver," Angel stacked the old hardcover books, flipping through the pages of one copy. "I think this one's burned."
"That's easy to explain," Benny said, discretely scooting away from the dishtowels. "Required reading to some school or another. Some of those books are torture to read." Angel raised her eyebrows, a quick up-down, before moving on.
"Tinfoil, most of it still smelling like spaghetti bolognese," she said (Benny avoided those, too). "A shower curtain complete with rod, and a bent broomstick," Angel held up a sorry-looking excuse for a housecleaning tool- the thing's green metal handle was bent at an odd angle, half of its plastic green-and-white bristles missing.
"Well, better than nothing," Mark said, wondering how they were going to fix such a depressed-looking sweeper. "It reminds me of Roger a month into withdraw."
"You make one more reference to that time of my life, and these are going in a trash truck," Roger said, bumping the loft door open and hefting an old cardboard box.
"Green fabric galore," Mimi announced. "And two green beer bottles for the green elixir." Mark clapped both of them on the back, taking some samples and measuring them against Angel. Benny was fully wedged into a corner by now, eyeing the odious rags fearfully.
Maureen and Joanne returned at last.
"We found red shoes," Joanne produced an abused pair of red Converse high-tops. "Just pretend they're slippers."
"And there was this... this stoop-sale!" Maureen said proudly. "We got two toy swords and a fake pistol, and the most perfect witch hat you will ever see!" Maureen glanced at Benny. "Off of Broadway," she added, lip turning slightly, but she recovered.
"It cost two dollars," she continued sadly, as if she was talking about a lot more. "But I'm skipping dinner to make up for the cost!"
The Bohemians slowly applauded, truly awed by Maureen's sacrifice.
"You're pathetic, you know that," Benny said, starting to come out from his corner a little bit.
"Shut up or you'll be a monkey the entire show," Maureen said. "It's a big deal, volunteering to miss a meal in this life." Benny returned to staring at the rags, trying to find the nerve to get close to them.
"Those things are filthy," he said, hoping someone else would notice and take action. Roger rolled his eyes.
"Well, excuse us, princess, if we decided to scrounge the old rather than shoplifting the new," he said sarcastically. Benny took a deep breath, and picked up what had been a dark green t-shirt in a previous life.
"Are these going to get…washed?" Benny asked, trying to conquer this somewhat newfound phobia. Joanne shrugged.
"Well, Maureen's yard sale finds ate up just about the entire budget," she said. "We might encounter a few quarters between now and dress rehearsal so we can get them cleaned at a Laundromat, but that might be a few weeks."
"And… where are these staying until then?" Benny asked.
"Around the loft," Mark said causally. "We might make measurements and such, though with the odd sizes it's going to be hard."
"We could just lay them on the actors," Angel said, taking an old towel and laying it across Collins' shoulders, getting an idea for how big it was. "Like this."
"Before they're washed?" Benny said. Joanne sighed.
"We've been over this, Benny," the lawyer said. "They'll be washed before opening night, but probably not until then."
Benny just stood there for a minute, dumbstruck.
"So none of you are going to wash them?" he said. Everybody exchanged glances, one thought running through their minds: stupid yuppie scum.
"Not enough time," Collins said.
"Or money," Joanne added.
"Or detergent," Mimi piped up.
"Or-" Roger was about to add 'human interest', but Benny cut him off.
"I get it!" he said. Silence for a moment as he took deep breaths. "I'll get them washed."
Several pairs of eyebrows went up. Benny continued.
"I'll get them washed, dried, with soap, and bring them back. You people can run other scenes I'm not in; Lion cub, Popular, Witch of the East, whatever. But I am not going to have these sit around for weeks smelling like Mark's scarf."
"Hey!" Mark interjected. "My scarf does not smell!"
"When was the last time you washed it?" Benny asked concernedly, trying to put the rags in a box so he wouldn't have to touch them.
"Um…recently…" Mark said ambiguously. Benny lowered one eyebrow, then left the loft with the filthy fabric.
"Were we really out of money?" Maureen said.
"Nope," Joanne said.
"Or time," Collins said.
"Or detergent," Mimi said.
"Or-" human interest.
"I get it!" Maureen cut everybody off. "Then why did you tell him we were?"
"The yuppie scum is good for something," Angel said. "Especially when he's germ-o-phobic." Maureen smiled, finally understanding the 'master plan'.
"C'mon, Mimi-chica, let's get some of the foil and plastic cleaned up," Angel said, sorting out what they needed to wash and un-crumple.
"Pookie, let's run 'Popular'," Maureen said, dragging Joanne to a corner of the loft.
"Wizomania?" Roger looked at Collins, thinking about running what Mimi had of the dance number. They started dragging furniture aside to make room. Mark looked around sadly for someone to rehearse with.
"At least I have you, Mister Scarfie…" Mark muttered to his scarf, wrapping it tighter around his neck, and pulling out his camera to hopefully discretely film people doing more interesting stuff than he was.