The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.
I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.
This story is rated M
After a yummy breakfast and the sad and disgusting news, everyone had retired to Lafayette and O.I.’s room as they discussed wardrobe.
Just what did you wear to spy in?
“James of the Bond Street is mightly handsome in his tailored mades,” Lafayette sighed. “But I don’t thinks a Were bar calls for the likes of custom, one of a kind. Don’t want to stand out and not especially blend in. Anyone who hears us talkin’ is gonna know we are not locals.”
“So wear somethin’ that speaks to your supernatural-ness,” Sookie said over her shoulder as she admired the scarves he had laid out on his bed. “Nothing trashy like Miss Jazz-mean at a 900 number but something that says you have good taste and can kick your English ass. Does not matter what your supernatural bona-fides are or your physical condition. We might be Yanks but we have got it goin’ on.”
“That’s good Miss Sookie,” Lafayette nodded. “Real good. But why would we be there? This would be like Merlotte’s. Somethin’ bad happens and everyone runs there to get the latest. And it is always noted when a stranger sticks their nose in at such a time. ‘Member that time Old Mr. Rose whose dementia just kept getting’ worse, went missin’?
His daughter showed up from out of town and had lunch with us. Worried and gnashing her teeth and wringing her hands while she had two burgers, a side of French fries and onion rings along with a pitcher of beer, talkin’ to everyone and boo hooin’.
Turns out she had taken’ him out to the swamp behind his house and left him tied to a tree. She was mighty surprised when Sheriff Andy came in and arrested her. Seems no one had gossiped about Packy the hound dog. She did not count on Packy findin’ her daddy and then her daddy, misquote bit, rained on, and hungry, rattin’ her out that she had tied him and she knew he could not remember how to untie knots. Mm-m-m-m hm-m-m-m. We needs a good reason for sittin’ our fine asses down and bein’ there. A mighty good reason.”
“We are writing a book,” Gran offered. “And you two are researching…?” she shrugged. “Lafayette you are a Medium. Did you follow a ghost in? More than one?
And O.I.? What is going to be your specialty?”
“Well now, I do believes I can run a Rune pouch,” he chuckled, “and see what my third eye has to say. I will quick as can be make me a set.”
“That is goods, my little mans. Book…spooks…maybe an internet TV show…needs to speak with Mr. Clifford befores we makes out spy debuts. We coulds bes writers or producers. Longboat Publishing is getting ready to go Hollywood…or just the Internets. So, jeans, t-shirt and a nice suit jacket,” Lafayette nodded. “This cut velvet scarf and somethin’ that says I am fab-u-lous and lookin’…well just lookin’. Maybe a vest. I boughts a long tailed one at Harrod’s.”
“I like that’s,” O.I. nodded. “Right now I am partial to my linen pants and long flowin’ top with that red velvet long jacket.”
“Smokin’ your La La says,” as they both high fived.
“We will leave you to your spy dressin’ ways,” Sookie said as she and Gran picked up their tea cups. “We’ll see you downstairs for lunch and then we will kiss you out the door.”
O.I. and Lafayette took The Tube to the Pretty Pink Bicycle.
“Not a bad part of town,” Lafayette observed as they came up the steps. “I was expectin’ far worse and just far worse. I guess Weres like to do business in a respectable part of town as well.”
“Seems to be,” O.I. responded. “Shops, a green grocery and another pub up the block and a restaurant. Nice looking antique store and a used book store.”
“Starbucks on the corner,” Lafayette added. “Here we are. Were central. Nice lookin’ buildin’ on the outside. Has been well maintained. Was built in 1830 or so says the signage on the buildin’.”
“We shall stand here and read the menu while we look wistfully in,” O.I. said as they began checking the place out. “Looks to be doin’ business. Some empty tables by the door and apparently there is more seatin’ in the basement. They call it The Crypt.”
“Then let us take our jolly ol’ selves inside. I am seein’ dead folks,” Lafayette smiled. “Lots of them. And we are ready to have us some fun of the fresh dead type.”
“Yes,” O.I. grinned. “You know a dragon’s magnetic signature does horrible things to these modern day electrical systems. Circuits burn out. Light bulbs hiss and sometimes scream obscenities. Appliances smoke, shudder and try to walk out the door,” he said with an all-knowing look.
“Is that a fact?” Lafayette said opening the door for him.
“Indeed,” O.I. said matter of fact. “Some folks just might mistake it for the mischief of the Fresh Deads.
Oh look,” O.I. looked shocked. “Their open sign just burned out.”
Terrance the barkeep was nobody’s fool. They got foot traffic off the street. Being so close to a Tube Station helped that.
But the two that came walking in were more than just foot traffic. They were Supes, well dressed and ones he did not recognize. He could smell their magic wafting around them. All though not a Were, he was a mage of the 3rd order. He might be a novice, but he knew power when it vibrated around the room and then came back and kicked you in the ass…and his ass was twitching like he had just been violated!
Annie had left him a note to be on the lookout for strangers. They could have magic or not. And they would ask a lot of questions. “THINGS HAVE HAPPENED. BE ON YOUR GUARD!” she had printed in big letters. “Remember! Keep locals on the main floor. Everyone else in the basement!”
Annie did not specify what type of things had happened. But from judging from the size of the Were crowd that was in here, it had to be something to do with the dual natured and were gossiping and speculating up a storm. He had seen the news and had wondered if those that had broken the law and had everyone in an uproar were Weres. It just did not seem likely. No way in hell Annie would authorize those kind of shenanigans! All notorious and infamous Were dealings went through her. Even he knew that! What had happened last night with those skateboarders…well all of England was up in arms and wanting to put a head on a pike for those that had snarled traffic and caused that man in the ambulance to die!
Whoever those assholes were, they had faded away into the back alleyways. Which was good and probably safest for them.
Here came the two ringers, heading straight for him.
“Anywhere besides the bar to sit?” the one with the fascinating tinged purple hair and purple eyes asked him.
“And not over by the door,” the handsome black male added.
“Sure, The Crypt is open,” Terrance said and nodded toward the staircase. “The bar down there is doing business so drinks won’t come from up here. Should get them right after you place an order.”
“Thanks,” Lafayette said. “But we don’t mind waiting for a good beer that has been properly pulled.”
“Well, you would be the first Americans I have seen who do not mind waiting. They want to drink, eat, and get back to it.”
“That does sound like home,” Lafayette grinned. “That is one of the things we enjoy about Europe. No one hurries you through a meal. You can sit and socialize and catch up. That is most pleasing.”
Terrance chuckled to himself. Really. Yanks…not in a hurry? That did not sound right. “Miss Annie, how smart you are!” Time to play his ace in the hole! “There is a really nice restaurant up the street,” he threw out the hook. “Top shelf Scottish whiskies, only locally grown food stuffs. You place your order for their dessert chocolate mousse when you first go in and it is hot out of the oven after your meal.”
“We will have to try that some time,” Purple Eyes nodded. “But we followed about twelve Fresh Deads in here. And they are the story.”
“What?” Terrance took a step back.
“More like fifteen or so,” the black male nodded. “And I have seen none fresher. You know, when they have been here roaming for a while, they start to look like dirty laundry. These were fresh and looking like a Clorox commercial.”
“Are you kidding me?” Terrance took another step back.
“No. If I might,” Lafayette took out a business card. “I am his La La Fineness. I am a Medium by trade. I spotted the Fresh Deads. This is my associate O.I. There might be better forecasters with the Runes and those that can read where death has happened and call to the past and see the present and future, but I have not met them.
We are cruising London, looking for verified haunts and haunteds. We work for Longboat Publishers. They want us to write a proposal for an Internet documentary on the ghosts of London and then write the script. And if it takes off, we could show the world the side of the supernatural like they have never seen or experienced it. This pub might be a place to start.”
“Oh,” O.I. glanced around as the lights flashed off and then back on. “I can feel the static charge building,” he shook all over and then the blender on the bar made a hissing sound and started to smoke.
“Unplug it and put it in the sink,” Lafayette said to the barkeep who did just that and then turned on the faucet.
“Now, anywhere in the basement is okay? Or should we wait to be seated?” Lafayette asked.
Terrance was a bit shaken. He had only started his training with spirits and was a bit behind. His teacher had pissed off a dead by trying to exercise her and had been thrown out a window.
Damn! He did not want to be left alone up here, fighting off these Fresh Deads, he shuddered, by himself. “I’ll clear out a booth for you up here,” he said. “No problem. If you want something from the kitchen, you just let me know. It will be hot, none of that going up and down the stairs business.”
“Perfect,” O.I. nodded. “And thanks. We will just sit and drink your darkest stout and have an order of fish and chips with smushy peas and just track what we can.”
“Thanks,” Terrance said, trying to hide his shaking. “Anything I can do to help?”
“You wearing any wool?” O.I. asked.
“Just my jumper.”
“I would take it off. When they pass by, the static charge can start there and give you a nasty shock.
You know spontaneous combustion?”
“Yes,” Terrance’s eyes got round.
“Fresh Deads are notorious for that bit of fiery business,” O.I. said and Lafayette nodded in agreement.
“Thanks,” Terrance nodded, his voice full of wonder and a tinge of fear. “Good to know. Let me clear out a booth for you and get it set up. Then I’ll get right on your order.”
“We really do not need…” Lafayette began.
“Not a problem. Gritty and his old lady have been in here since nine. They have nursed that pint for the last four hours. She has gone to the loo. That means they are getting ready to leave. I will just go wipe down the table and hurry them along.”
“But still,” Lafayette crossed his eyes. “I feel like we are running them off.”
“Let us buy them another one and some lunch,” O.I said. “And you can move them to one of those tables over by the door.”
“Very decent of you,” Terrance said as he headed in that direction.
“Yes,” Lafayette winked at O.I. “Very decent of you.”
Gritty and his old lady, Stella stopped by to say their how dos and thank yous.
“Was not our intent to run you out,” Lafayette said. “Please, would you like to join us?”
“Well thank you,” Stella smiled. “And we were getting ready to leave, anyway. But a meal sounds lovely.”
O.I. got up and slid in next to Lafayette and Gritty and Stella slid in across from them.
Lafayette explained that the sighting of the Fresh Deads had brought them in and the conversation just went on from there as the pub listened in.
So that afternoon, the lights flickered, alarms sounded, and there were cussing sounds from the kitchen about electronic appliances not working. Those wearing wool jumpers discretely pulled them off.
Gritty and Stella finished their pints and meal in record time and moved off, as they were both wearing wool pants and jackets.
That freed up seats for others to stop by and chat up the Americans.
O.I. had his Runes out and was casting for whoever wanted their live history read. “If you want the truth, just sit yourself on down and let’s Rune,” he would say. “The Elder does not lie.”
With Lafayette speaking with authority about the Fresh Deads and saying the newest to walk the spirit realm were dual natured, and even had a few physical descriptions, everyone in the pub had a pretty good idea who it was that was haunting the establishment and the real time chatter started.
Terrance worked behind the bar, tracking the activity that was going on. He saw no need to keep secrets from these two Americans, who apparently had more answers then all of them put together. There was no hiding anything from the Rune Master and the Medium was the best he had ever encountered. Not that any Supe in here willingly offered up information, but they had quit whispering among themselves and started directing questions at the two Yanks.
Once more he checked the business cards he had been given. “His La La Fineness,” he chuckled and then got serious. “This is why he is somebody and I work as a barkeep. He believes in and promotes himself and does not give a damn what anyone thinks.
And O.I. Just look at his card. That is all it says. O.I. Like the world knows who he is. I wish I had balls like that. I wish I could get past my third tier terrestrial mage ranking.”
The light bulb over his head went out. Then another. Then another until the bar area was dark and the patrons were calling out the names of the Fresh Deads and telling them to knock it off and the shadows began to lengthen.
“Time to get going,” Lafayette remarked. “We are doing a Jack the Ripper Ghost Walk Tour later. And we have a few more stops to make before then.”
Granny Ellis was sitting at the booth with them and patted both their hands. “Thanks for today,” she said pressing a pound into each one’s hand. “You cannot have your fortune told without payin’ the gypsies. I don’t want The Fresh Deads to note my lack of charity and be back around to get me.”
“Did not know that,” O.I. replied.
“My granny lived by that,” Mrs. Ellis nodded, all business. “She had a friend who had the gift and would search her out and tell her to be weary on such and such a day. My Granny did not have much but she would press on her friend a halfpenny or a bit of food or a glass of beer.”
“Good to know and remember,” Lafayette smiled at her.
“They are a bad bunch, those that returned here,” she said under her breath and kissed the small gold cross she wore around her neck. Eyeing both males she continued on. “Got a Frenchie that blows into here from time to time. When the owner ain’t here, these ones, these Fresh Deads, they would call him packmaster. Wasn’t right and I don’t think Annie knows. But I think with these Fresh Deads, maybe it is time someone told her.”
“I know I would be grateful to know that,” Lafayette took the old woman’s hand and placed it between both of his own. “I would be so grateful that I would maybe extend a meal to you on the house every time you stopped by or at least once a week.”
“You think so?” she looked surprised yet pleased.
“I know I would. Cannot speak for the owner. But I know I would,” Lafayette stressed. “We thank you kindly for your company, but we must be moving on.”
Getting up, they moved over to the barkeep who they knew was named Terrance.
“Check please,” O.I. said.
“On the house,” the fine boned brunet male barkeep with the pale hazel eyes responded.
“Cannot do that,” Lafayette said and pushed two twenty pound notes at him. “We are on an expense account. Gotta spend it or next time, we only get enough money for McDonald’s.”
They called out their good-byes to all the Weres who they now knew by name and wished them and their families all the best this Joyeux Noël.
“Way to fuckin’ easy, my big man’s,” O.I. chuckled as they headed for The Tube.”
“Fresh Deads,” Lafayette chuckled. “They will get you every time. And if they don’t, O.I. and His La La Fineness will. Time to check in. Vamps will be risin’.”
Annie walked in at five. Chef Arnold had finally given up and called her.
“What the fuck?” was all she could say as she surveyed the damage.
“Fresh Deads,” was called out.
Terrance nodding his head vigorously and repeating “Fresh Deads!”
“Fresh what?” she said with dismay in her voice. “Terrance, you had better not been drinking on the job. Walk me through this and tell me what the fuck happened.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, she got the litany. A Medium and a Rune Reader had followed seventeen Fresh Deads into the building. Her building!
“Here are their business cards,” Terrance said with a flourish.
And…we think we know who the Fresh Deads are…”
She listened as she walked about and surveyed the damage. Thankfully the beer was cooled in the basement. All things electrical were iffy.
When she walked into the kitchen, she threw up her hands in dismay.
Chef Arnold was carrying around a meat cleaver and waving several branches of fresh rosemary around muttering be gone and be at rest! “I cannot fry anything. The fry-o-lator started to smoke and sputter and I pulled the plug before a grease fire started.
You get these Fresh Deads out of here or I won’t be back. They are not making shepherd’s pie out of my balls.”
“How’s The Crypt?” she asked, peering down the back stairs.
“Crypt is just fine,” Arnold retorted. “You know Weres don’t hang out down there. Tourist only.
The dual natured call the main floor their own. Well fuck them. I have had enough. I don’t want one more appliance telling me they would not eat my cooking and to get a job as a fish gutter. I have had it! And the Fresh Deads, they scared the beejesus out of poor Willy. He is sitting in the storeroom corner sucking his thumb and crying. There has not been a dish washed or a floor mopped since this started.”
“Shit,” she mumbled as she surveyed the kitchen and started doing a mental inventory just how much this was going to cost. She needed a priest and an electrician, in that order.
Terrance stuck his head in the kitchen. “Granny Ellis wants to talk to you.”
“I will be right there.”
Turning to Arnold she patted his chest. “I am going to call a Priest and then the electrician. Please, get Willy up and working and just…just start doing inventory on what needs to be replaced so the electrician will have an idea.”
Going out, she spotted Granny Ellis at a booth. “Fuck,” she shook her head, “she is taking up space that could hold four paying patrons. I thought I had talked to her about that.
Granny,” she said sliding in across from her, “I thought we had an agreement.”
The old woman nodded. “I know,” she responded. “I am not to take up space of paying customers. But His La La Fineness thought you would want to know this.”
“And what else did His La La Fineness have to say?” she asked.
“He said maybe you would give me a free meal once a week for this information. He said he would provide me a free meal everyday.”
Snorting, Annie gave her a toothy smile and said, “American’s seem to think money grows on trees. So tell me your news.”
“We all know who the Fresh Deads are. Those seventeen, they are the same ones that would call that Frenchie, packmaster, when you were not here.”
“What?” she stuttered.
“Yes,” Granny nodded.
“And no one told me?”
“We all know you are partial to him. You do special favors. Let him do things and walk away from shit that would get the rest of us dead. Takes the pack for runs in Scotland when you were busy. Not for us to question.
Then, you let him vamp up those that were loyal to him. We had no idea what to expect. We all wondered if he was planning a coup d’état. Would not be the first time. That is how your grandfather came to power.”
“Thank you Granny Ellis,” she smiled as she stood up. “We would enjoy having you for your evening meal. On the house, of course.”
“Well thank you,” she smiled as she gathered her things. “His La La Fineness was right about that.”
“And several other things,” Annie said with disgust as she headed back to the bar.
“Tell me,” she said, standing in front of Terrance. “About these Yanks.”
“They left their business cards,” he said pulling them out and placing them on the bar. “In regards to the magic, they are legit. Best I have seen in their respective fields. No bullshit to them. All power and knowledge.”
She merely raised an eyebrow when she saw their names. But, she was impressed when she saw the Longboat publishing logo on the back. Along with a phone number.
Dialing, there was a male that picked up. “Longboat Publishing House, this is Swen speaking. How may I direct your call?” he said with a slight Swedish accent.
“May I please speak to His La La Fineness or O.I.?”
“One moment,” he replied. While on hold she listened to their latest ad for their newest best sellers. The he was back.
“I am sorry, both are out of town on assignment. May I take a message?”
“I own a bar in London, and I believe they dropped off their business cards with one of my associates. Apparently they write ghost stories.”
“If they are interested in doing a story that can be verified, that would be the proper protocol,” was Swen’s reply.
“What if I don’t want a ghost story done about my bar?” she asked.
“Not a problem,” he assured her. “Before they would disclose the location, they would make contact with you first and go through the legal parameters.”
“Thank you,” she replied and hung up. “So these guys are real…” she thought about that and then watched in horror as the front door blew open and hit the wall so hard that the handle broke off and punched its way through the front glass window.
“Holy Mother of God,” she gasped as the crack in the window began to spread. “Somebody, anybody, get me a priest in here! Right now! I cannot afford these Fresh Deads! And Clancy, you…you…fucking Fresh Dead,” she said with disgust. “I know it was you that peed on my front window last week and shit in front of the door! And you owe me money! As soon as that priest gets here we are casting you to Hell and you burn you bastard, burn!”
O.I. and Lafayette retuned to the manor house well after dark. When they walked in the door the family was up and the happy couples looked…well happy!
“Got your text. We are having a working dinner,” Eric said when they walked into the library. “Then we are going to the theatre.”
“Most excellent,” Lafayette nodded. “We have the names of those that died and who they are related to in the pack.”
“Then let’s get started,” Gran said as she leaned over and gave Scully a kiss on the cheek. “I am looking forward to an evening out!”
Clifford stuck his head in. “Jorja can secure tickets for Andrew Lloyd Weber’s The Woman in White.”
Making a face, “No,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Let me get tickets for the Queen musical, We Will Rock You, instead.”
“I would love to see an A.L.W. show,” Gran said wistfully. “The Woman in White is one of my favorite short stories.”
“Then The Woman in White it is,” Clifford bowed his way out.
It was lovely getting dressed for an evening of at the theatre. There was all type of speculation and wished for and oh my gawd! A.L.W.!
The ladies were in their Chanel long evening wear and the men were wearing their Armani suits.
They made their grand entrance and were shown the way to their seats. When the curtain went up, they all sat in quiet expectation.
When the show ended, they left, each with their own thoughts of what they had just witnessed. After all it was A.L.W. in London!
When they settled into the limo, Lafayette said as he batted his eyelashes, “The Woman in White, by Andrew Lloyd Weber and other misconceptions. Just what the fuck?” he said in exasperation. “I knows I am a back water rube, but I has seen live theatre. And I do gets PBS on my TV. Watch the big theatrical experiences straight out of London Town when they appear. Went to Shreveport and watched Romeo and Juliet as they did it live from London and was streamed to the movie house.”
Gran let out a big sigh. “Mr. Clifford was right. We should have gone with Queen. *The Woman in White, this was an operetta loosely, and I must stress that, loosely based on the short story The Woman in White. This is one of my favorite stories and I was expecting great things….” Gran’s voice trailed off. “I am so sorry,” she sighed again as she looked around the crowd. “The only thing the story and the play had in common were that there were two females dressed in white.”
“Seriously,” Sookie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “If you are in London for that once-in-your-life-travel experience and want to go to a play, looking for what you would perceive to be the Bard’s traditional theatre, this would not be it. I would call this more along the lines of Performance Art. I am not for real sure if I like performance art,” she said looking out at the group. “Maybe that is just the poor Louisiana girl in me…but seriously…I was not expectin’…that! We do better Nativity plays at Christmas in church.”
“Please,” Lafayette shuddered. “This is playin’ in the London West End, at The Palace Theatre,” he stressed. “This…this was a new look at re-inventin’ the wheel and the wheel works just fine. Just say’n!
Lordy, from the ancient Greeks that incorporated megaphones into their masks to the French who implored the raked stage, everyone,” he threw his hands up into the air, “wants to leave their mark on the theatre, redefinin’ its greatness.
Here techno gets to raise its head and offer a more movie type experience than a theatre one. And let me be the first to tell you, payin’ eighty bucks for a movie leaves me with a screwed and no kiss kinda feelin’,” he complained.
“But,” Ian softly said. “I have heard my theatre comrades-in-arm say, after all, creativity is what it is all about.”
“Well, okay,” Sookie eyed him. “I agree to that. But there are certain things to me that constitutes live theatre and for me this was not it. Mr. Clifford warned us away from this show in his very best, proper, polite British…so allow me and I will translate it into American what I thought of it. That being, it blows chunks!”
“What say you, Samuel,” Eric leaned over and looked at his brother.
“Yes,” the small vampire gave them nod of his head. “I understand. You are in London. I can see how you are expecting traditional,” he nodded to the three Americans. “London, theatre…The Bard!
This is,” Samuel gave the group a small smile, “however a wire-head’s dream come true. The stage revolved, there were two curved screens that could rotate on the stage, which also revolved around the stage. Onto these cycloramas were projected the scenery.”
“I wanted Victorian antiques,” Gran replied. “This is London. There should be Victorian antiques. Not 21st century hub-bub.”
“Well yes,” Samuel bowed his head to her. “But in all fairness, there was an occasional chair or table.”
“Yes,” Lafayette eyed him, “after all, it would be a little difficult to ask actors to sit for prolonged periods in a virtual chair, and of course impossible to lay about on a virtual bed.”
“But the scenery,” Samuel continued. “What was projected onto those screens would be impossible to build on a stage. That manor house. The grand staircase. A garden with a fountain. Cliffs over looking the ocean. Even the slums of London.”
“Mr. Samuels,” Lafayette was shaking his head. “What you are sayin’ is true. And I have the movies for that and cable.
I was at the theatre,” he stressed, “watchin’ the characters move from the rooms of the grand manor house which was projected onto the walls of this cyc,” he stressed, “walk up projected stairs!” he remarked with great disdain.
“Yes, now La La was impressed, he says with insincerity,” he snickered rolling his eyes. “The actors were just walkin’ in place or markin’ time. If you have any type of marchin’ band experience this would be useful!
I ams self righteous at this moment and utterly disappointed.”
“Yes,” O.I. uttered. “The only craftsman ship in building this set came from the programmer who wrote the program.”
“I would like to say that it was interesting, but for me it was visually incorrect,” Gran agreed. “I am one of those people who cannot do the magic picture, you know, see the picture in all the color noise surrounding it. So, instead, what I saw was an actor marking time in place until my brain captured what was being projected onto the cyc. All focus should be on the actors in a positive way. The set is merely to dress the stage, not to distract from the actors.”
“Preach it Gran,” Sookie nodded her head in agreement. “I am hoping that the virtual world is not the ugly road that theatre is headed toward now that I can afford to attend. And if I am paying that much for a ticket, there had better be a built set for the actors to interact with.
And if folks thinks virtual stuff is the dragon’s golden horde or the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in set dressin’, woe to the set dressers and props and scene shops, all artists in their own right. Those poor folk are gonna be without jobs.”
“Not to mention writers. The plot line,” Gran rolled her eyes. “Okay, am I the only person who remembers the Dudley Do-right cartoons? Villains, dastardly villains, deadly dastardly villains. Yes, we had them there tonight!” Her voice got a little louder. “Heroine, another heroine, and heroine cubed. And oh, don’t forget the train they projected!” Gran threw her hands up in the air. “How can there possibly be a heroine in distress without a train track? And the hero….oh, yes, my darlings, he is just all that and more….we just did not get to see him flex his muscles.
And for something so cutting edge, so avant-garde, A.L.W. has jumped us back even further into the past world of entertainment. Stroll back with me,” Gran put her hands over her heart, “to the silent movies of which I know a bit about.”
“I do remember those,” Eric grinned along with the other vampires.
“Well yes,” Gran was shaking her head. “This was a great deal like those scenes that were flashed onto the screen while someone played the piano and you could either sing along with the words or it was the sole responsibility of the piano player.
Yes, indeed, we have come full circle. And I am not saying I approve,” Gran sighed.
“Okay,” Sookie was watching the group. “We have paid $80 each to have an evening at the theatre. Hmmmm, instead of being engrossed in the theatrical experience, I kept thinking, you have got to be kiddin’ me!”
“And I knows I saw those clouds that were being projected at the Venetian in Vegas.” Lafayette added. “And I kept watchin’ to see if the doors that were built into the cyclorama would match perfectly with the doors that were projected onto the cyc, allowing the actors to use an actual door,” he stressed. “And the ever present thought, Lord have mercy, if there is the squeakiest problem with the power, this show is over.”
“Yes,” Sookie nodded, “I kept praying we would lose power and call this done. Did you hear that couple next to us from New York? She was all aglow! Just wait until this gets to NY, you could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. This is so original.”
“And I am sitting there thinkin’, it is going to have to make it out of the West End, first,” Lafayette shook his head and said, “Some one pour. I need am needin’ somethin’ to wash that taste out of my mouth.”
“Better plays are before us,” O.I. smirked as he went through the bottles in the bar. “We is gonna have Mr. Shakespeare as it was intended to be and it will be mighty fine.”
Cannot have a story about our heroes in London without going to the theatre.
This is based on a review I wrote of
* The Woman in White, Andrew Lloyd Weber and other
Friday, 13 May 2015/ Tally Ho, on to London
Misconceptions (Author’s note: Our concierge politely warned us when we asked about tickets and suggested We Will Rock You, instead.
Please keep in mind I am entitled to my opinions in regards to this play and my opinions have been transferred to the characters. If you have seen it and loved good…good on you! I obviously did not.)
As always, thanks for reading!
Be blessed and be the blessing,