By Laura Grimes
The pressure’s on. Mr. Scatter, otherwise known as my current first husband, has hightailed it outta town, and his responsibilities mean he probably won’t have a chance to write or find a wi-fi to post for about a week.
I am more than a little envious that he got this assignment. I’m the one who’s had my eye on this show for months. I’m the one who bought the book. I’m the one who was trying to see how this could wedge into the schedule and — stink — he landed the gig, skedaddled with the Small Large Smelly Boy (also known as Felix/Martha in some circles), and I was stuck with chauffeur duty for the Large Large Smelly Boy who had a class at the same time.
At dinner after the show, the Small LSB niftily and oh-so-casually wove it into the conversation that he got to meet Louis Sachar.
“Excuse me?” I said. “You got to meet him?”
I could tell he was stifling a grin and playing cool. “I got to shake his hand. It wasn’t big.”
“What? His hand wasn’t big?”
“No!” he laughed. (Got him!)
“I knew what you meant. And, yes, it was a big deal.” And, no, I wasn’t there.
But I got a report. You can read it for yourself. Mr. Scatter says it’s a good ‘un.
In looking at my schedule, I’ll be in town exactly one weekend day during the run that’s open to the public. Must sign off to buy a ticket … and then finish the book.
Top: Johnny Crawford as Armpit in “Small Steps.” Photo by Morphis Studios.
Bottom: Louis Sachar/Wikipedia