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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc.and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
This is a sequel to You're Unpredictable photoid symbian crack
There's No Business Like Show Business
by Ruth Piwonka
May 20, 2000, New York, NY, Broadway, Neil Simon Theatre,
9:00 a.m.
“Okay, I want us to go back to Act I, Scene 5, everyone,” the director called from the sound booth. The actors groaned, got off-stage, and the stage hands began moving the props around.
“This is has been the roughest technical rehearsal that I’ve ever been to. Why don’t they understand that they’re not to touch their damn mics? Are they stupid or something?” the beefy head sound technician growled.
“Just calm down, Brian. We’re gonna do this scene over again and try to place them so they don’t come remotely even close to the microphones,” the director coaxed Brian McPherson. “Say, where’s our light technician? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”
McPherson shrugged and rolled his chair over to the lighting control board, which was set only on the most simple settings that he could understand. The stage lights came up and the actors were not on-stage. “What’s going on?” the director shouted into the sound board microphone.
“Some idiot brought the lights up too soon,” the actress who was playing Marion Paroo barked into her microphone.
“Focus, people. Go with the flow. I’m sorry if you didn’t have enough time, Miss Eder, but please, work with me. We’re short of people today...”
“Yeah, short of people who actually know what they’re doing!” she shot back.
“That’s it, I’m turning her mic off!” McPherson yelled in frustration as he rolled back to the sound board. Suddenly, everyone heard a piercing scream coming from backstage. The director, named John Stacy ran as fast as he could to get to the stage. When he reached the orchestra pit, he stopped. “What’s wrong?” he called out backstage.
“We got another stagehand that was knocked unconscious,” the actor who was playing Harold Hill named Vince Gregory said.
“What? Oh terrific. Call an ambulance, Mark,” he yelled to the head stage manager.
“Don’t bother. He’s dead,” Vince declared sotto voce to Stacy.
“What’s next? A light’s gonna come crashing down and burst into flame?” Just as soon as he made that exclamatory statement, the house and stage lights blacked out.
“Nice going,” Vince crossed his arms.
“McPherson, what the hell is going on up there?!” Suddenly, a body fell from the sound booth all the way to the floor. It was Brian McPherson’s. The stage lights began to flash all around the entire theatre and an insidious laugh filled the actors and stage crew with fright. “The guy sounds like the goddamn Shadow,” Stacy whispered to Linda Eder.
Suddenly, in a flash, the house lights and stage lights came on full blast when Jarod walked inside the theatre doors. They all came out onto the stage and began to stare at him with their mouths wide open. “Hi. I’m Jarod Black, and I will be your light technician,” he greeted the cast.
“Do you always make such a dramatic entrance?” John Stacy questioned.
“Dramatic entrance? What, was I supposed to come in from the back entrance?”
“The lights flashing on and off-the stupid laughter. I knew you techies were a weird group, but I didn’t know how weird.” Jarod’s eyes met with Linda’s and she immediately looked away.
“I don’t even know where the tech booth is. How could I even begin to toy with that stuff if I don’t know?”
“You bring up a good point, Black. You’re late, though.”
“Sorry about that. I got caught in traffic. Life in this huge city can get overwhelming if you’ve lived in a small town your entire life.”
“I’m Vince Gregory. This is Linda Eder. Welcome to Broadway, Mr. Black.” Jarod reached his hand out to him, shook it briefly, and then offered his hand to Linda, who shrank away.
“Jarod. Please call me Jarod.”
“All right, everyone, please get back to rehearsal. We got a performance to do this week, and I don’t wanna see you all ad libbing!” Stacy ordered them to return to their places and they did. “Come on up this way, Jarod.”
“What just happened here?”
“Ever since we started rehearsing the new and improved “The Music Man”, strange things have been going on here. Like one of our stage hands was just killed and now, our sound technician. I guess we’re gonna hafta replace him in a jiffy, too.” Jarod followed Stacy up to the tech booth.
“He was okay. I checked his vital signs and if you get him to a hospital in time, he won’t slip into a coma.” Stacy stared at him long and hard. “Are you a doctor or somethin’?”
“Or something,” Jarod grinned. The young director bit his lip and picked up his cell phone where he had left it on the sound board. “Hello. Operator, get an ambulance to the Neil Simon Theatre pronto. We had a sound techie take a spill. Thanks.
“Listen, do you think you can handle things up here by yourself? Your resume was very impressive. It sounds like you’re very versatile.”
“Yeah. Will you be downstairs?”
“By the orchestra pit if you need me. I’ll be wearing the Clear Com set and talking to you. You might as well switch that on and put it on your head.”
“Oh, I didn’t quite catch your name.”
“John Stacy. Sorry I didn’t tell you before. Gotta run.”
“Wait, Mr. Stacy. What does ad libbing mean?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Well, no one ever took the time to explain to me what it was.”
“That means they don’t follow the script-they just make it up as they go along.”
“That can be perilous to the other actors’ memorization. Why do they do that?”
“I dunno; nerves, maybe. I gotta go. I’ll be downstairs.” He ran down to the floor once more to join the actors.
***
Blue Cove, Delaware, 11:02 a.m.
“How is he, Doctor?” Lyle asked Dr. Siffons and he shook his head.
“It’s too early for me to tell, but I think he’ll survive. The car hit his body at what looks to me like thirty-five miles per hour. It’s amazing to me how he survived the crash.”
“Mr. Cox is a fighter, Doctor. He’ll pull through.” Dr. Siffons began to walk away when Lyle grabbed his lab coat. “Let me know if there’s anything that I can do for him.”
“Certainly, sir. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go analyze some of his x-rays and see what we can do with him.”
“What are his injuries?”
“Oh, where to start...um, his skull was the only part of his body not harmed. Every single one of his ribs are broken, I had to remove his appendix, his collar bone is completely out of joint, and he’s lost an incredible amount of blood. I need to find a hospital or some way of getting a blood type A negative.”
“How much blood are we talking?”
“Maybe nine or ten pints. I’m not quite sure.”
“A life threatening amount?”
“Definitely, or else I wouldn’t be saying that we need it.”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” Lyle leaned over to Willie and told him to find out Zoe’s blood type. “Prick her and find out if she can give to Mr. Cox.”
***
SL-6, 11:05 a.m.
“Find anything of my interest, yet, Broots?” Miss Parker asked the computer hacker, who was still working with Angelo on the shredded psychological files of Mr. Lyle.
“Uh, sort of.” She raised an eyebrow and he scooped a pile of paper onto his desk with his laptop.
“We found out where Sydney did his examinations with Lyle. It’s in SL-13.”
“Then why don’t we take that and head off there?” Parker turned his computer off and slammed it shut.
“Because it’s blocked off.”
“What do you mean by being blocked off, Broots?”
“You have to have a security code that no one except the people that work there or have worked down there know.”
“That’s simple. Find Syd.”
“He’s not here-he took the day off.” He saw the fire in her eyes swell up as she screamed, “WHAT?!!” Broots took that opportunity to step away from her. She caught him as he did so by the ear. “Then we’re gonna find that code by hacking into every single file possible!”
This is a sequel to You're Unpredictable photoid symbian crack
by Ruth Piwonka
May 20, 2000, New York, NY, Broadway, Neil Simon Theatre,
9:00 a.m.
“Okay, I want us to go back to Act I, Scene 5, everyone,” the director called from the sound booth. The actors groaned, got off-stage, and the stage hands began moving the props around.
“This is has been the roughest technical rehearsal that I’ve ever been to. Why don’t they understand that they’re not to touch their damn mics? Are they stupid or something?” the beefy head sound technician growled.
“Just calm down, Brian. We’re gonna do this scene over again and try to place them so they don’t come remotely even close to the microphones,” the director coaxed Brian McPherson. “Say, where’s our light technician? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”
McPherson shrugged and rolled his chair over to the lighting control board, which was set only on the most simple settings that he could understand. The stage lights came up and the actors were not on-stage. “What’s going on?” the director shouted into the sound board microphone.
“Some idiot brought the lights up too soon,” the actress who was playing Marion Paroo barked into her microphone.
“Focus, people. Go with the flow. I’m sorry if you didn’t have enough time, Miss Eder, but please, work with me. We’re short of people today...”
“Yeah, short of people who actually know what they’re doing!” she shot back.
“That’s it, I’m turning her mic off!” McPherson yelled in frustration as he rolled back to the sound board. Suddenly, everyone heard a piercing scream coming from backstage. The director, named John Stacy ran as fast as he could to get to the stage. When he reached the orchestra pit, he stopped. “What’s wrong?” he called out backstage.
“We got another stagehand that was knocked unconscious,” the actor who was playing Harold Hill named Vince Gregory said.
“What? Oh terrific. Call an ambulance, Mark,” he yelled to the head stage manager.
“Don’t bother. He’s dead,” Vince declared sotto voce to Stacy.
“What’s next? A light’s gonna come crashing down and burst into flame?” Just as soon as he made that exclamatory statement, the house and stage lights blacked out.
“Nice going,” Vince crossed his arms.
“McPherson, what the hell is going on up there?!” Suddenly, a body fell from the sound booth all the way to the floor. It was Brian McPherson’s. The stage lights began to flash all around the entire theatre and an insidious laugh filled the actors and stage crew with fright. “The guy sounds like the goddamn Shadow,” Stacy whispered to Linda Eder.
Suddenly, in a flash, the house lights and stage lights came on full blast when Jarod walked inside the theatre doors. They all came out onto the stage and began to stare at him with their mouths wide open. “Hi. I’m Jarod Black, and I will be your light technician,” he greeted the cast.
“Do you always make such a dramatic entrance?” John Stacy questioned.
“Dramatic entrance? What, was I supposed to come in from the back entrance?”
“The lights flashing on and off-the stupid laughter. I knew you techies were a weird group, but I didn’t know how weird.” Jarod’s eyes met with Linda’s and she immediately looked away.
“I don’t even know where the tech booth is. How could I even begin to toy with that stuff if I don’t know?”
“You bring up a good point, Black. You’re late, though.”
“Sorry about that. I got caught in traffic. Life in this huge city can get overwhelming if you’ve lived in a small town your entire life.”
“I’m Vince Gregory. This is Linda Eder. Welcome to Broadway, Mr. Black.” Jarod reached his hand out to him, shook it briefly, and then offered his hand to Linda, who shrank away.
“Jarod. Please call me Jarod.”
“All right, everyone, please get back to rehearsal. We got a performance to do this week, and I don’t wanna see you all ad libbing!” Stacy ordered them to return to their places and they did. “Come on up this way, Jarod.”
“What just happened here?”
“Ever since we started rehearsing the new and improved “The Music Man”, strange things have been going on here. Like one of our stage hands was just killed and now, our sound technician. I guess we’re gonna hafta replace him in a jiffy, too.” Jarod followed Stacy up to the tech booth.
“He was okay. I checked his vital signs and if you get him to a hospital in time, he won’t slip into a coma.” Stacy stared at him long and hard. “Are you a doctor or somethin’?”
“Or something,” Jarod grinned. The young director bit his lip and picked up his cell phone where he had left it on the sound board. “Hello. Operator, get an ambulance to the Neil Simon Theatre pronto. We had a sound techie take a spill. Thanks.
“Listen, do you think you can handle things up here by yourself? Your resume was very impressive. It sounds like you’re very versatile.”
“Yeah. Will you be downstairs?”
“By the orchestra pit if you need me. I’ll be wearing the Clear Com set and talking to you. You might as well switch that on and put it on your head.”
“Oh, I didn’t quite catch your name.”
“John Stacy. Sorry I didn’t tell you before. Gotta run.”
“Wait, Mr. Stacy. What does ad libbing mean?”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Well, no one ever took the time to explain to me what it was.”
“That means they don’t follow the script-they just make it up as they go along.”
“That can be perilous to the other actors’ memorization. Why do they do that?”
“I dunno; nerves, maybe. I gotta go. I’ll be downstairs.” He ran down to the floor once more to join the actors.
***
Blue Cove, Delaware, 11:02 a.m.
“How is he, Doctor?” Lyle asked Dr. Siffons and he shook his head.
“It’s too early for me to tell, but I think he’ll survive. The car hit his body at what looks to me like thirty-five miles per hour. It’s amazing to me how he survived the crash.”
“Mr. Cox is a fighter, Doctor. He’ll pull through.” Dr. Siffons began to walk away when Lyle grabbed his lab coat. “Let me know if there’s anything that I can do for him.”
“Certainly, sir. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go analyze some of his x-rays and see what we can do with him.”
“What are his injuries?”
“Oh, where to start...um, his skull was the only part of his body not harmed. Every single one of his ribs are broken, I had to remove his appendix, his collar bone is completely out of joint, and he’s lost an incredible amount of blood. I need to find a hospital or some way of getting a blood type A negative.”
“How much blood are we talking?”
“Maybe nine or ten pints. I’m not quite sure.”
“A life threatening amount?”
“Definitely, or else I wouldn’t be saying that we need it.”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” Lyle leaned over to Willie and told him to find out Zoe’s blood type. “Prick her and find out if she can give to Mr. Cox.”
***
SL-6, 11:05 a.m.
“Find anything of my interest, yet, Broots?” Miss Parker asked the computer hacker, who was still working with Angelo on the shredded psychological files of Mr. Lyle.
“Uh, sort of.” She raised an eyebrow and he scooped a pile of paper onto his desk with his laptop.
“We found out where Sydney did his examinations with Lyle. It’s in SL-13.”
“Then why don’t we take that and head off there?” Parker turned his computer off and slammed it shut.
“Because it’s blocked off.”
“What do you mean by being blocked off, Broots?”
“You have to have a security code that no one except the people that work there or have worked down there know.”
“That’s simple. Find Syd.”
“He’s not here-he took the day off.” He saw the fire in her eyes swell up as she screamed, “WHAT?!!” Broots took that opportunity to step away from her. She caught him as he did so by the ear. “Then we’re gonna find that code by hacking into every single file possible!”
