Michael Gruber staggered into the Adelphi Theatre Dance Studio half awake at 5:00 am sharp. Right on time. He rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes and took off his signature Leather Jacket, hanging it on the clothing rack next to the door. Removing the jacket left him in his Cats shirt, black tights, and tennis shoes. Armed with his dance bag and water bottle. He yawned.
Yesterday, Gillian Lynne, the choreographer, told them they'd be rehearsing "The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles" today. It was going to be a long day for everyone, but especially him. Since he'd be the one singing and dancing most of the time. After all, he was the story teller. He took a drink of his water and looked around.
A couple others had arrived early as well. Some were chatting away in the corner. While others were warming up for rehearsal. As he swallowed his water, he thought about the task at hand for today. It wasn't anything new, he'd played Munkustrap many times before and knew what to expect. Plus, it wasn't the hardest thing he'd have to do this entire production.
But this time was different. This time the camera would be focused on him, catching everything he did. This number was focused on him. Not Jennyanydots. Not Old Deuteronomy. Just him. He had no time to waste. A movie like this would only be made once. He had to get it right. He sat his water bottle down and got to work.
As he warmed up, more people started filing in. Michael ignored them, much too absorbed in what he was doing to notice. So much so that he didn't notice the entire cast was present. It wasn't until 30 minutes later when Gillian lynne came in that Michael stopped what he was doing and joined the others.
After their meeting, the cast officially began rehearsal. They wouldn't need to get into hair and makeup since they weren't filming yet. 'Good.' Michael thought. Sitting on his ass to get his makeup done didn't seem so appealing. Especially not at the ass crack of dawn. It started off well. With Gillian giving Michael and the others a few notes here and there. Changing things to better fit the movie. "Don't drop Pouncival too hard," she says "Null your accent."
Somewhere in the middle of the song, Gillian stops them. "Alright, time for lunch." Everyone stopped what they were doing and headed for the lunch room. Michael rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. He sighs, following after them. Their lunch would be an hour long, plenty of time to relax and enjoy his food.
There wouldn't be much to do when they returned, just more singing and The Rumpus Cats introduction. Plus them goofing off. He checked his watch, 3:30 pm. 'This'll be fine.' He thought to himself. He finished his food and waited for the break to be over.
They'd gotten near the end of the song. It was past 6 pm and Michael was beat. No matter how long the Lunch break, he was ready to get this over with. There was only so many times he could scream "No" at the top of his lungs. Luckily, they'd be done soon.
Frank Thompson had been doing this show since 1991. He'd done this piece of choreography more times that he could count. He knew it like the back of his hand. This time wouldn't be any different than the last. Michael Gruber didn't have as many years on Frank, having only joined in 1996, but he could still perform just as well. And just as good. Needless to say, both men were pretty experienced.
The choreo was simple, Frank would kick his foot over Michael's head. And Michael, standing at full height, would have to duck. No sweat. "You never saw anything fiercer!" Everyone cowered in fear of The Great Rumpus Cat. Michael continued reciting his lines. "Or hairier." He said in a dry, monotone voice.
In this bit, Munkustrap was supposed to look back at the Rumpus Cat. Mostly to see him kick so he could duck in time. But, being too absorbed in acting, and tired from performing all day, he turned too late. "And-" he was promptly cut off by Frank's foot colliding with his cheek bone. His leg swung pretty fast. And hard. It knocked the wind out of Michael's chest.
Michael stumbled to the side and fell to his knees. Shocked by the unexpected blow. He held the right side of his face and hissed from the pain. He massaged it gently and groaned. Frank's shoe packed a punch.
"Oh my gosh Mike! Are you okay?!" Frank fell to his knees and started to assist the wounded man. He shook his hand. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm fine." Michael reassured. The others in the studio followed suit, getting up to see what happened. He tried his best to reassure everyone that he was fine. Especially Frank, who was an apologetic mess.
"No, you're not fine." Jason Gardiner perked up. He pointed at the cracks between Michael's fingers. "There's a bruise forming." Michael moved his hand. Sure enough, yellow and purple splotches could be seen. Since he was very obviously not fine, he was promptly dragged (dragged because he was still insistent that he was fine) out of the dance studio and into the on set infirmary.
"I'm fine, really. We can keep going." He said as he was pulled by Jason. He didn't seem to struggle against his forceful hold. "No no, you need to put ice on it." Jason replied. Frank followed closely behind, still spewing apologies along the way.