Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

The Postman Only Rings Twice

Meanwhile in a theatre somewhere, before curtain up:

"Val Kilmer!" exclaimed the Wife excitedly.
"I wonder if he'll be Difficult," I mused.
"Don't diss the Iceman."
"The Iceman. You know, Top Gun."
"Oh. That. I've never seen it."
"What? How could you have missed it? It's on ITV every other week. Gah, next you'll be telling me you haven't seen Footloose!"
I slid down in my seat a little.

We waited some more. I flicked through the programme.
"Hang on a cotton-picking minute! This isn't what I thought it would be!"
"What now?"
"Look at the title!"
"Ugly logo, isn't it?"
"No! Look! Your note said it was completely different!"
"What are you talking about?"
"It said 'The Postman Only Rims Twice'!"
"It did not."
"It did! Your handwriting's appalling, you know."
"Well yours is hardly copperplate. It's like an epileptic spider fell out of an ink pot."
I folded my arms. "You'll be telling me it isn't a musical next!"
The Wife glared at me.

We waited some more.
I looked around the set - an impressive, two-tier affair with a café at the bottom. And a car on the upper section. Dust and glass covered the rest.
"Striking," I said.
"They could have dusted," said The Wife.

We waited a little more.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"I had my head in a bag of Revels."
"The announcement. Val Kilmer won't be on tonight." There was an edge to his voice.
"The Iceman not commeth?"
"The Iceman not commeth."
"Oh. Shall we go?"
The Wife shrugged. "We should hang around. The understudy must be bricking himself. We should support him."
"You are noble, you know."
The Wife steepled his fingers. "Theatre. It's a dying art."
"Gmumpnh," I said through a mouthful of chocolate.

The curtain went up.

The Wife and I sat forward together.
"Well, he-llo, Mr Understudy..." we said.

There was more play.

"So where was the postman?" I whispered.
"Was that him on the phone then? I noted it rang twice," I said, pleased with myself that I'd been paying attention.
The Wife sighed. "The postman's metaphorical."
"Oh, like mine. Oh he says he rang. But you leave the front door for a second and you've got a little note through your door saying 'While You Were Out We Tried To Deliver A Parcel.'"
The Wife hmm-ed an agreement. "The Postman Only Tapped Lightly On My Door With A Fingernail."
"The Postman Looked At My Door."
"Perhaps that's why Val didn't turn up. Someone should have rung three times. Loudly."

The interval.
"Well, that was impressive!"
"Oh yes."
"The car accident - the way the car crashed through to the other set! Was that metaphorical?"
"I think so. Though a car accident is pretty much a certainty if you're driving around on a sky-lighted café roof."
I couldn't tell whether he was serious, throwing my whole understanding of the play out of the window.
"Where's the ice-cream functionary?" asked the Wife, looking around the emptying auditorium.
I gasped. "Perhaps that's where Val is! He's run off with the girl who doles out Hagan Dazs!"
"You're building up to a joke about 'IceCreamMan' aren't you?"
"No," I lied.

There was more play.

"The car's still hanging through the roof of the set," I whispered.
The Wife concurred quietly with a nod.
"Is that metaphorical too?" I asked.
"I think so," he said back in a low voice. "It could represent that everything now is overshadowed by the car crash."
"It's very distracting."
It was. Actors were having to move around a dangling car every time they wanted to cross the set.
"Perhaps it's a mistake?" I asked.
"No, can't be."
Someone almost hit their head on it. The Wife and I exchanged glances.

The play ended.

"Marvellous!" I cried.
"Bravo!" said the Wife.
"Very moving," I said.
"Could have done with more musical numbers," said the Wife.

And then we went home.


Snooze said...

"The Postman Looked At My Door."

That is so, so true. I thought it was only the lazy asses in Canada. It seems that non-knocking postmen is a holdover from being a British colony. I learn so much from you Lee.

Snooze said...

I mean, non-knocking postmen ARE a holdover...

Lee said...

Bloody colonials. Mangling our language.


Eden said...

I love when you do these. And you need not waste your time on Top Gun or Footloose. Except maybe the beach volleyball scene in TG. Other than that, skip it.

j(aded) said...

Hee Hee. I had visions of those balcony hecklers Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets :)

Jay said...

Since I live with Lee I can vouch for the similarity between him and Statler. Apart from the beard of course

mainja said...

hey! you be leaving snooze alone!

we speak english good!

colony knows english more than you guys!

hmmm. i don't know. that seemed vaguely funny at the time of typing. now it just seems utterly inane. *sigh*