St Muckymuck, Episode 13: Scottish Hometown Intercity Talent Show Week 1

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WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

KBC Grand Auditorium

Friday night, 7:58 pm

There was much frenzied rushing around.  Doors squeaking open and slamming shut, people yelling things like, "Where's my dress?" and "I can't find my shoes!" and "Has anyone seen my rebec?"  Jo was scurrying around, too, barking orders in her very high soprano voice and trying to soothe frayed nerves from the judges, contestants, stagecrew, and orchestra.  At long last, she was calling for places and telling everyone to be quiet.  The lights of the house went down as the music came up.

Will Rirey came out.  "Welcome one and all to the sixteenth season of Scottish Hometown Intercity Talent Show!"  The crowd went wild as two plumes of purple smoke went up next to him followed by a burst of flames that went nearly to the ceiling.

"You all know how the show works by now but for anyone who's a virgin, here's the procedure," he said, as a second volley of flames shot up through the floor to the ceiling.  He was completely nonplussed by it as several members of the audience shielded their eyes and complained of intense heat to their neighbors. 

"Each of our contestants will perform on every program according to a pre-chosen theme.  At the end of the show, you, the viewers, will call in and vote on who you liked the best.  The contestant with the least amount of votes will be eliminated." 

The crowd went wild. 

"This year we are introducing something new: there is not one but two rounds of competition each week!"  The crowd roared its approval, screaming and shouting from the audience as two plumes of smoke were released, green this time, followed by a  wall of sparklers that spanned the full length of the monumental, black, shiny stagefloor.  One lady in the front row put on a pair of sunglasses.

"Now!  It is time to meet our judges!!" Rirey said, moving downstage right.  A massive block of blue smoke filled the stage from the floor.  As audience members began to cough and splutter, four figures rose on a lift in the stage floor, seemingly to appear out of nowhere. 

"First is our very special guest, the witty...the highly educated...and lyrical professional oboist, our very own Nicholas Strathearn-Smythe!!!"  The crowd applauded as a very tall, slender man with a long face smiled and bowed. 

"To his right we have the delightful, the divine, the delovely mistress of the musical stage.  Please give a killer Kilcathclyde welcome to Ms. Venus Divagawa!"  The audience went wild with whistles, screams, and applause.  She waved and smiled.

"To her right is the ever elegant queen of our hearts, Mys Tery!"  The orchestra broke into "Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep" from White Christmas and the crowd demonstrated its loudest approval yet.  When the ovation finally died away, someone from the back of the house hollered, "We love you Mys Tery.  You'll ALWAYS be our queen!"  Everyone laughed as she blew a kiss in the direction of the benediction.

"And last but certainly by no means least...as this is his show...Damian Swashbuggles!!" 

Everyone got to their feet and yelled and shouted as a ton of bubbles poured down onto the stage, completely obscuring the four judges.  Through the babble of bubbles, they made their way to a table downstage center and managed to get to their seats while a stagecrew team of six people dressed in all black appeared with mops to wipe up the soap residue from the bubbles.

When the applause quieted, Rirey addressed the now seated judges, waving stray bubbles away from his face.  "How are we all this fine November evening?" 

They all chorused "Fine!" as they put on the microphones.  "Any word on Turtle Timmy's tumor?"

Damian Swashbuggles sighed in exasperation.  "Does everyone on the planet know about that turtle?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," said Rirey.

"Well, I've heard nothing today," he said, clearly irritated.  "We'll give Freddy MacDougall a  wee phone and see what the turtle's status is?  Shall we?" He turned to the audience, which clapped in affirmation as the orchestra played the theme to McCorkindale.

"Let's waste no time as we have a full evening of enthralling entertainment tonight.  But first we must announce this week's theme.  Tonight and tomorrow night the contestants must all perform songs by the legendary Val Doonican!" 

Nearly every female member of the audience let out squeals and swoons of giggly delight.  Even Mys Tery and Venus looked at each other.  Mys Tery rolled her eyes and began fanning herself. 

"YES!" said Rirey.  "Now on with the show!!!  Our first contestant is a spoon piper from Dundwiddle."  He stepped onstage wearing a kilt decorated with purple, yellow, and green plaid and a warm and cuddly looking cable knit sweater.  He had the pipes with him and a set of two spoons attached to each of his shoes.  He tapped the floor with his shoes and activated the pipes.  Within seconds he was clacking away across the shiny black floor to "Paddy McGinty's Goat."  

Tongues of flame shot up in various patterns across the stage, missing Ronald by millimeters in some instances.  One came so close that he stopped and looked up at the lighting booth in the back of the auditorium, scowling.  But this went unnoticed by the audience which was busy clapping in time to the music and singing along.  When the song was over, Rirey came out from the wings.  "That was wonderful, Ronald.  Let's see what the judges have to say.  Mys Tery, you go first."

"Well, you know that Val is an old friend of mine," she said.

"Really?" said Rirey.  "I had no idea."

"Yes, we've had liaisons for centuries!  Now then, my dear Ronnie, who has the nicest knees of any spoon piper I know," she said.  The audience hooted.  "I thought that was wonderful.  Just wonderful.  You're off to a good start.  I would watch your chanter.  Your fingertips were getting too close to the holes for my personal taste, my dear."

"Yes, ma'am," said Ronald, meekly.

"I didn't know you were a piper!" said Damian, turning toward her.

"Yes, my dear SB, my fingertips can do all sorts of amazing things when required!  I am, in fact, certified."  She wiggled her fingers in his direction.

"Mys Tery, you are a woman of many talents," said Rirey as the audience clapped.  "What about you Nick?  What's your verdict?"

"I thought the spooning was fantastic.  You've got a long, long, long successful career ahead of you, Ronald.  I'm looking forward to all the astounding things you will be able to accomplish in show business!"

"Thank you, kind sir," said Ronald, bowing with his hands together toward the professional oboist.

"OK, Venus, what do you have to say?" said Rirey.

"I thought that was absolutely inspired.  What an awesome experience for me as an American to see such talent before me.  It made me cry," she said.  "See?  My mascara's run!"  The camera began to move in. 

"And don't you DARE do a close up!"  she said to the cameraman, making a fist, suddenly looking extremely dangerous.  "I'll give you such a beating!"  She pounded the lit table.

Rirey recovered.  "What about you Damian?  What did you think?"

"I think there's great potential there.  I really, really do.  I think over time, we'll be able to do something with Ronald, here.  Not sure what, just yet.  But something, I feel sure.  Well done!"

Everyone clapped as the music came up and he made his way offstage.

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved