Mashy-mallow; Rum Raisin
Author: Indie
Rating: G
Challenge: Marshmallow #27 (promotion), Rum Raisin #1 (mother)
Extra: Whipped cream
Word Count: 420
Story: Tally Harlow and the Big Bad World. (No index yet.)
Notes: Something new. The mostly unfinished history of Natalia Harlow Rosenkrantz. Fame, boys, babysitters; expect very little growing up. :)
The first time someone ever suggested that Natalia should try her pudgy little hands at acting, she was eleven, and playing Millie in a middle school production of the Julie Andrew’s classic.
Really, she hadn’t ever planned on touching the stage, seeing as she was the second understudy for the part. She was good enough at running through lines, and had a clear, girlish voice, but she was only a sixth grader, and on top of that, wasn’t even in the chorus class where most of the rehearsing was done, so it was kind of a consolation prize for her.
Except, Mrs. Rosenkrantz believed in the fundamental motto of the Boy Scouts of America. When Tally was telling her that Mr. Spencer, head of the arts program, didn’t give any actual parts, not even chorus girls, and that she wasn’t even the understudy (because seriously, you can’t even put understudy’s understudy on a résumé, sheesh mom.) her mother would remind her that she would be “supremely embarrassed” by her own “lack of initiative”. Her mom was the sort of person who said those kinds of things.
She’d made her recite for months, and Tally was prepared to watch from the audience, silently mouthing along while Christina Roark did her thing, but then Christina caught pneumonia the week before the premier, so Tally had revised her plans to include mouthing from the audience while Maya Garcia flounced around in a wig.
Of course, Tally would come to learn in showbiz, an unlikely event is unlikely, but if an event is highly, highly improbable, but still shy of impossible, it’s almost a sure thing, and Maya twisted her ankle getting out of Mrs. Garcia’s car, and at a half hour until the first curtain call, Mr. Spencer was trawling the auditorium for Tally.
“I need you to go on.”
“Um. I … can’t, actually, uh.”
In a resigned sort of way.Mr. Spencer put his fingers to his temples, and let out such a long breath that Tally thought maybe his lungs had imploded. “Do you know the lines, Natalia?”
And before she could formulate another bumbling reply, her mom said: “Yes, David. Backwards and forwards.”
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together gently. “The show has to go on.”
--
“Sarah, darling, is that Natalia?”
Mrs. Rosenkrantz nodded in the affirmative.
“She’s not a boomer, or over the top enough for the stage. But she’s got something,” one of the other PTA moms said. “You should get that kid an agent.”
Rating: G
Challenge: Marshmallow #27 (promotion), Rum Raisin #1 (mother)
Extra: Whipped cream
Word Count: 420
Story: Tally Harlow and the Big Bad World. (No index yet.)
Notes: Something new. The mostly unfinished history of Natalia Harlow Rosenkrantz. Fame, boys, babysitters; expect very little growing up. :)
The first time someone ever suggested that Natalia should try her pudgy little hands at acting, she was eleven, and playing Millie in a middle school production of the Julie Andrew’s classic.
Really, she hadn’t ever planned on touching the stage, seeing as she was the second understudy for the part. She was good enough at running through lines, and had a clear, girlish voice, but she was only a sixth grader, and on top of that, wasn’t even in the chorus class where most of the rehearsing was done, so it was kind of a consolation prize for her.
Except, Mrs. Rosenkrantz believed in the fundamental motto of the Boy Scouts of America. When Tally was telling her that Mr. Spencer, head of the arts program, didn’t give any actual parts, not even chorus girls, and that she wasn’t even the understudy (because seriously, you can’t even put understudy’s understudy on a résumé, sheesh mom.) her mother would remind her that she would be “supremely embarrassed” by her own “lack of initiative”. Her mom was the sort of person who said those kinds of things.
She’d made her recite for months, and Tally was prepared to watch from the audience, silently mouthing along while Christina Roark did her thing, but then Christina caught pneumonia the week before the premier, so Tally had revised her plans to include mouthing from the audience while Maya Garcia flounced around in a wig.
Of course, Tally would come to learn in showbiz, an unlikely event is unlikely, but if an event is highly, highly improbable, but still shy of impossible, it’s almost a sure thing, and Maya twisted her ankle getting out of Mrs. Garcia’s car, and at a half hour until the first curtain call, Mr. Spencer was trawling the auditorium for Tally.
“I need you to go on.”
“Um. I … can’t, actually, uh.”
In a resigned sort of way.Mr. Spencer put his fingers to his temples, and let out such a long breath that Tally thought maybe his lungs had imploded. “Do you know the lines, Natalia?”
And before she could formulate another bumbling reply, her mom said: “Yes, David. Backwards and forwards.”
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together gently. “The show has to go on.”
--
“Sarah, darling, is that Natalia?”
Mrs. Rosenkrantz nodded in the affirmative.
“She’s not a boomer, or over the top enough for the stage. But she’s got something,” one of the other PTA moms said. “You should get that kid an agent.”