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tedwordsThe truth is, I absolutely adore a good wake.
And here’s another theater tip, my dears: wakes are the perfect place for any actor worth his greasepaint to go apeshit. All that crying and hugging and thinking back on all the good times, even if the person who died was a good-for-nothing low-life scumdog.
Actors need to make that scene their OWN! Be the one to cry the loudest, be the one to tell the most touching stories. Be the one to feel the most, even if you’re not feeling a goddamn thing!
I’ll let you in on a secret. Once or twice, I’ve gone to a wake where I’ve had absolutely no idea who the person was I was waking. I’d just see their name in the newspaper and show up, pretending to be a long-lost uncle or a friend from work. It was a wonderful way for me to develop a character. I highly recommend it as an acting exercise: FAKE it and WAKE it.
Still, I couldn’t afford to fake anything at RJ’s wake. My time had to be spent seeing if I could pick up clues on who the real killer was. There was a good chance someone feeling a little guilty might let a little something something slip.
Which is why I was sitting there in my car outside the Otto Harbuch funeral home on Wednesday night, observing people shuffling in and out of the wake. I was busy gathering evidence.
“Can’t we go in yet?” whined Kevin from the back seat. Yes, we had reconciled. Well, a little. At least, he didn’t hang up when I called.
“Not yet. I’m watching people pull into the parking lot.”
“Why?”
“I want to check out their body language.”
“Can’t you check better inside?” Kevin shivered. “Where there are warm bodies?”
Le sigh. "Okay." I glanced into my rear view mirror and straightened out the tasteful Armani tie I was wearing with my most somber dark blue suit. Once it was perfectly straight, I opened the car door. “Let’s go.”
“Thank gawd,” sulked Kevin. “Besides, it’s not like anyone doesn’t know we're here. Three people from Bull Moose waved to us!”
“They didn’t know what we were up to,” I pointed out, taking the opportunity to educate him. “They probably thought we were making out.”
“At a wake?” Kevin headed out of the car and into the warmth.
Has anyone noticed that today’s funeral homes all look like luxury condos? The Otto Harbuch funeral home was one big huge cookie cutter time share, utterly bland, with all its distinctiveness sucked right out. And that’s just where this big old world is heading, if you ask me.
Oh, P.S.: the place was packed, which made me instantly jealous. I only hope my wake will be TWICE as packed the day I shuffle off this mortal coil. When I die, I want more wailing and gnashing of teeth than you can shake a stick at.
“Dante!” shouted Missi in that sing-song voice of hers the minute we entered. She was in line to sign the guest book.
“My dear girl,” I said. I brushed past the somber looking attendant at the front door to give her a big hug. Missi had elected to wear a glittery blue dress that was far too gaudy for a wake. Call me old fashioned, but how tacky. “You look fabulous.”
“Don't you just love it? I wore this dress when I sang ‘You’re the Top’ with RJ at the Cole for Christmas musical review.” Missi dabbed at her eyes. “He would have wanted it that way.”
“You were both so wonderful in that.” Egad, what a disaster! RJ forgot his words the first night, causing Benji the pianist to stop playing and stare out at the audience. Only, with his lazy eye, we weren’t quite sure who or what he was staring at.
“I’m looking for clues to clear my good name,” I whispered into her ear. “Has anyone been acting suspicious?”
“Come over to the back of the hall. We should talk,” she whispered back. “I saw something that—oh, hi, Danita!”
We quickly disembraced and I turned around to face the withering gaze of La Gorgon Danita. She had obviously been crying, and yet still managed to look terrific, strutting around in a tasteful black dress that was both solemn and sexy at the exact same time.
“Missi, how lovely of you to come.” And then grudgingly: “Raphael.”
“Missi, I am so, so sorry,” I said, using my most sympathetic voice.
Her eyes became icy slits. “You will be,” she hissed.
OUCH! “Missi, let’s talk.” I moved away from the crowd, snapping my fingers for Kevin to follow.
The three of us walked until we were far from the crowd and standing in front of a fake bookcase that appeared to have rows of Reader’s Digest anthologies placed upon it. “What did you see?”
Missi looked to her left, then her right. Amazingly, not a curl on her Annie-like mop of brunette hair moved out of place.
“There’s something going on between Danita and Stan Portman.”
“Stan the Bald Eagle?” Stan Portman was the Bull Moose treasurer and a 60-year-old conservative Neanderthal with a fake wig and an overbearing tone that made him completely insufferable. He had been in every BM production since the dawn of time and thought he owned the fucking group. He also hated gays. I personally hadn’t spoken to him in years, but then, I didn’t have to, since he always ended up in the chorus.
“What happened?” asked Kevin.
“Stan was the first Mooser to arrive,” whispered Missi. “I was out in the hallway, watching people come in. The minute he arrived, he went into the casket room and walked over to Danita. She started screaming at him, ‘Do you really have to bring this up now?’” Missi fiddled with the fake pearls she was wearing around her wrist. “The whole place went quiet. Everyone heard. Stan ran out as fast as his fat little legs would take him. His face was red as a fried green tomato.”
“His face is always red as a hothouse tomato,” I corrected her, ever so subtly. “The man’s a heart attack waiting to happen. But I wonder what got Danita so upset?”
Missi sucked on her lower lip in a most unattractive manner. It’s amazing what some people will do to get their little gray cells working. “He was RJ’s accountant, right? Maybe there were money problems?”
Hmm. That was worth looking into. “That’s our first clue, Nancy Drew. But wait! How can I stick around long enough to figure out who may have had it in for RJ besides me?”
Kevin almost looked giddy. He placed his hands on his hips, as if he were a teen-aged girl. “I don’t think Danita is going to let you stay very long, Raphael. They way she was glaring at you, you’ll be lucky to get close to the coffin!”
Bingo! Light bulb! The man was brilliant, even if he was an idiot. “Kevin, that’s exactly what I’ll have to do. You’ve summed up my problem in a nutsack!”
Kevin looked confused. Hell, even Missi was looking at me a little cross-eyed. “What did I—“
Oh, heavens. Did I need to spoon feed this? Okay, bring on the Gerbers. “I need to get close to the coffin. If anyone is going to make a heartfelt confession, that’s where they’re gonna to do it.” I contemplated my options. “So how can I hang around there long enough to hear what everyone has to say?”
“Why don't you try dying?” It took me a few seconds to realize Missi wasn't serious. “Really, Raphael, there’s no way you can do anything more than kneel down, say a quick a Hail Mary, and then get the hell out of Dodge.”
Oh really? Light bulb! A wicked smile started to grow on my wonderfully expressive face. “Isn’t there? I think I know exactly what will get me right where I need to be.” Then I turned to Kevin, and dove in for the kill. “And that’s where you come in.”
His eyes grew wide. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” This was going to have to be approached delicately. Kevin was somehow going to have to be seduced into totally forgetting how shabbily I had treated him these past two years. I placed my hands squarely on his shoulders. “This may be your biggest acting challenge yet, Kevin. You do this, and you’ll be a cinch to get a speaking role in next year’s spring show. Kiss Me, Kate, remember. I will personally guarantee it!”
For some reason, Kevin seemed suspicious. “What do you want me to do?”
“It’s simple, really. When I head over to the coffin, I need you to cause a distraction. A loud one.”
Now he seemed even more suspicious. “A...loud distraction.”
“Something everyone will notice.”
Kevin started rubbing his weak chin, a sure sign he was agitated. His sunken shoulders quivered just a bit. “Oh, uh...I don’t think I could, Raphael...”
“Of course you can!” I said. “It’s just acting. And if anyone knows what a good actor you are, it’s me, right?” That’s it, boy, lay it on thicker than chunky peanut butter.
“But what...would I cause a distraction about?”
“Oh, that’s easy! You’re so high strung, there are practically a million things. Pretend to be upset over RJ’s death.”
Kevin’s eyes grew wide. Oh dear, had I said something wrong? “Raphael, I am upset about RJ’s death.”
“Then use that, man! Acting is believing! Really get upset about RJ’s fatal demise! Sob openly! Collapse into Missi’s heaving bosom! Make it so no one notices me crawling underneath the coffin!”
“Well, I suppose I could—“ said Kevin.
“And he absolutely could use my—“ said Missi.
That’s when it sunk in. Then both, together, “Huh?”
I smiled at them with a twinkle, putting on my best Don Quixote. “Just watch me. But Kevin, that’s why I need a really big show!”
Missi raised her hand, clearly inspired by my audacity. “I’ll help, too. We’ll make this a scene they won’t soon forget.” Ah, God bless my fans.
Kevin looked as if he were about to faint. Missi got all earth mother and put her arms around him, to comfort him. As for me, it was time to act, before I lost my nerve. With a manly hardening of my jaw, I headed down the drab hallway. I pushed my way past the cluster of sad looking old people standing outside the mourning room, waiting to sign in. I penetrated the room.
Hmm. I noticed there weren’t many Bull Moosers hanging around. I could see Roz and Vern, talking to a couple of chorus folk, and that was all. I waved hello, but Vern seemed to look the other way. I’m sure he didn’t seen me.
Danita was standing to my left, along with a really sad looking older couple and a man who looked like a heavier version of RJ. Must be his brother or something. They even had the same non-existent hairline.
I took a deep breath. In some ways, this was going to be the hardest part of the entire caper. Undoubtedly, Danita had told her entire family all about me and what I had allegedly done. If I could get through this firing squad alive, crawling under the coffin should be an absolute piece of cake.
Lights, camera, action. I forced myself over.
And here’s another theater tip, my dears: wakes are the perfect place for any actor worth his greasepaint to go apeshit. All that crying and hugging and thinking back on all the good times, even if the person who died was a good-for-nothing low-life scumdog.
Actors need to make that scene their OWN! Be the one to cry the loudest, be the one to tell the most touching stories. Be the one to feel the most, even if you’re not feeling a goddamn thing!
I’ll let you in on a secret. Once or twice, I’ve gone to a wake where I’ve had absolutely no idea who the person was I was waking. I’d just see their name in the newspaper and show up, pretending to be a long-lost uncle or a friend from work. It was a wonderful way for me to develop a character. I highly recommend it as an acting exercise: FAKE it and WAKE it.
Still, I couldn’t afford to fake anything at RJ’s wake. My time had to be spent seeing if I could pick up clues on who the real killer was. There was a good chance someone feeling a little guilty might let a little something something slip.
Which is why I was sitting there in my car outside the Otto Harbuch funeral home on Wednesday night, observing people shuffling in and out of the wake. I was busy gathering evidence.
“Can’t we go in yet?” whined Kevin from the back seat. Yes, we had reconciled. Well, a little. At least, he didn’t hang up when I called.
“Not yet. I’m watching people pull into the parking lot.”
“Why?”
“I want to check out their body language.”
“Can’t you check better inside?” Kevin shivered. “Where there are warm bodies?”
Le sigh. "Okay." I glanced into my rear view mirror and straightened out the tasteful Armani tie I was wearing with my most somber dark blue suit. Once it was perfectly straight, I opened the car door. “Let’s go.”
“Thank gawd,” sulked Kevin. “Besides, it’s not like anyone doesn’t know we're here. Three people from Bull Moose waved to us!”
“They didn’t know what we were up to,” I pointed out, taking the opportunity to educate him. “They probably thought we were making out.”
“At a wake?” Kevin headed out of the car and into the warmth.
Has anyone noticed that today’s funeral homes all look like luxury condos? The Otto Harbuch funeral home was one big huge cookie cutter time share, utterly bland, with all its distinctiveness sucked right out. And that’s just where this big old world is heading, if you ask me.
Oh, P.S.: the place was packed, which made me instantly jealous. I only hope my wake will be TWICE as packed the day I shuffle off this mortal coil. When I die, I want more wailing and gnashing of teeth than you can shake a stick at.
“Dante!” shouted Missi in that sing-song voice of hers the minute we entered. She was in line to sign the guest book.
“My dear girl,” I said. I brushed past the somber looking attendant at the front door to give her a big hug. Missi had elected to wear a glittery blue dress that was far too gaudy for a wake. Call me old fashioned, but how tacky. “You look fabulous.”
“Don't you just love it? I wore this dress when I sang ‘You’re the Top’ with RJ at the Cole for Christmas musical review.” Missi dabbed at her eyes. “He would have wanted it that way.”
“You were both so wonderful in that.” Egad, what a disaster! RJ forgot his words the first night, causing Benji the pianist to stop playing and stare out at the audience. Only, with his lazy eye, we weren’t quite sure who or what he was staring at.
“I’m looking for clues to clear my good name,” I whispered into her ear. “Has anyone been acting suspicious?”
“Come over to the back of the hall. We should talk,” she whispered back. “I saw something that—oh, hi, Danita!”
We quickly disembraced and I turned around to face the withering gaze of La Gorgon Danita. She had obviously been crying, and yet still managed to look terrific, strutting around in a tasteful black dress that was both solemn and sexy at the exact same time.
“Missi, how lovely of you to come.” And then grudgingly: “Raphael.”
“Missi, I am so, so sorry,” I said, using my most sympathetic voice.
Her eyes became icy slits. “You will be,” she hissed.
OUCH! “Missi, let’s talk.” I moved away from the crowd, snapping my fingers for Kevin to follow.
The three of us walked until we were far from the crowd and standing in front of a fake bookcase that appeared to have rows of Reader’s Digest anthologies placed upon it. “What did you see?”
Missi looked to her left, then her right. Amazingly, not a curl on her Annie-like mop of brunette hair moved out of place.
“There’s something going on between Danita and Stan Portman.”
“Stan the Bald Eagle?” Stan Portman was the Bull Moose treasurer and a 60-year-old conservative Neanderthal with a fake wig and an overbearing tone that made him completely insufferable. He had been in every BM production since the dawn of time and thought he owned the fucking group. He also hated gays. I personally hadn’t spoken to him in years, but then, I didn’t have to, since he always ended up in the chorus.
“What happened?” asked Kevin.
“Stan was the first Mooser to arrive,” whispered Missi. “I was out in the hallway, watching people come in. The minute he arrived, he went into the casket room and walked over to Danita. She started screaming at him, ‘Do you really have to bring this up now?’” Missi fiddled with the fake pearls she was wearing around her wrist. “The whole place went quiet. Everyone heard. Stan ran out as fast as his fat little legs would take him. His face was red as a fried green tomato.”
“His face is always red as a hothouse tomato,” I corrected her, ever so subtly. “The man’s a heart attack waiting to happen. But I wonder what got Danita so upset?”
Missi sucked on her lower lip in a most unattractive manner. It’s amazing what some people will do to get their little gray cells working. “He was RJ’s accountant, right? Maybe there were money problems?”
Hmm. That was worth looking into. “That’s our first clue, Nancy Drew. But wait! How can I stick around long enough to figure out who may have had it in for RJ besides me?”
Kevin almost looked giddy. He placed his hands on his hips, as if he were a teen-aged girl. “I don’t think Danita is going to let you stay very long, Raphael. They way she was glaring at you, you’ll be lucky to get close to the coffin!”
Bingo! Light bulb! The man was brilliant, even if he was an idiot. “Kevin, that’s exactly what I’ll have to do. You’ve summed up my problem in a nutsack!”
Kevin looked confused. Hell, even Missi was looking at me a little cross-eyed. “What did I—“
Oh, heavens. Did I need to spoon feed this? Okay, bring on the Gerbers. “I need to get close to the coffin. If anyone is going to make a heartfelt confession, that’s where they’re gonna to do it.” I contemplated my options. “So how can I hang around there long enough to hear what everyone has to say?”
“Why don't you try dying?” It took me a few seconds to realize Missi wasn't serious. “Really, Raphael, there’s no way you can do anything more than kneel down, say a quick a Hail Mary, and then get the hell out of Dodge.”
Oh really? Light bulb! A wicked smile started to grow on my wonderfully expressive face. “Isn’t there? I think I know exactly what will get me right where I need to be.” Then I turned to Kevin, and dove in for the kill. “And that’s where you come in.”
His eyes grew wide. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” This was going to have to be approached delicately. Kevin was somehow going to have to be seduced into totally forgetting how shabbily I had treated him these past two years. I placed my hands squarely on his shoulders. “This may be your biggest acting challenge yet, Kevin. You do this, and you’ll be a cinch to get a speaking role in next year’s spring show. Kiss Me, Kate, remember. I will personally guarantee it!”
For some reason, Kevin seemed suspicious. “What do you want me to do?”
“It’s simple, really. When I head over to the coffin, I need you to cause a distraction. A loud one.”
Now he seemed even more suspicious. “A...loud distraction.”
“Something everyone will notice.”
Kevin started rubbing his weak chin, a sure sign he was agitated. His sunken shoulders quivered just a bit. “Oh, uh...I don’t think I could, Raphael...”
“Of course you can!” I said. “It’s just acting. And if anyone knows what a good actor you are, it’s me, right?” That’s it, boy, lay it on thicker than chunky peanut butter.
“But what...would I cause a distraction about?”
“Oh, that’s easy! You’re so high strung, there are practically a million things. Pretend to be upset over RJ’s death.”
Kevin’s eyes grew wide. Oh dear, had I said something wrong? “Raphael, I am upset about RJ’s death.”
“Then use that, man! Acting is believing! Really get upset about RJ’s fatal demise! Sob openly! Collapse into Missi’s heaving bosom! Make it so no one notices me crawling underneath the coffin!”
“Well, I suppose I could—“ said Kevin.
“And he absolutely could use my—“ said Missi.
That’s when it sunk in. Then both, together, “Huh?”
I smiled at them with a twinkle, putting on my best Don Quixote. “Just watch me. But Kevin, that’s why I need a really big show!”
Missi raised her hand, clearly inspired by my audacity. “I’ll help, too. We’ll make this a scene they won’t soon forget.” Ah, God bless my fans.
Kevin looked as if he were about to faint. Missi got all earth mother and put her arms around him, to comfort him. As for me, it was time to act, before I lost my nerve. With a manly hardening of my jaw, I headed down the drab hallway. I pushed my way past the cluster of sad looking old people standing outside the mourning room, waiting to sign in. I penetrated the room.
Hmm. I noticed there weren’t many Bull Moosers hanging around. I could see Roz and Vern, talking to a couple of chorus folk, and that was all. I waved hello, but Vern seemed to look the other way. I’m sure he didn’t seen me.
Danita was standing to my left, along with a really sad looking older couple and a man who looked like a heavier version of RJ. Must be his brother or something. They even had the same non-existent hairline.
I took a deep breath. In some ways, this was going to be the hardest part of the entire caper. Undoubtedly, Danita had told her entire family all about me and what I had allegedly done. If I could get through this firing squad alive, crawling under the coffin should be an absolute piece of cake.
Lights, camera, action. I forced myself over.
