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Issue 16 Home
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Off in the Wings "You told me if I forgot my lines that I should 'wing it,' and I did.
What's everyone so uptight about?" Marty, the stage manager, looked as if he was about to strangle me. "'Wing
it' means ad lib, in character, not go into a monologue that changes the
entire story to focus on you. You were playing the doorman!" Someone started banging on the dressing room door again. And shouting, but
I couldn't understand the words. "You better stay locked in here," Marty continued. "The opening night party is a shambles, so no one will be staying long -- unless the author and director find out you're still here. You better not let them catch you." He listened at the door and opened it a crack. "But did you hear the applause I got at the curtain-call? They loved me." Marty turned to glare at me. "If you pulled that stunt on purpose, you're a
dead man." The door burst inward as a group of reporters rushed forward with shouts of
"Great! Fantastic performance! Bravo! Will you give us an interview?" "Well I'm not really prepared," I said. "But, sure, why not. I'll just wing
it." ~Allen McGill Originally from NYC, Allen McGill lives, writes, acts and directs theatre in
Mexico. His print and online published works appear in NY Times, The
Writer, Newsday, Literary Potpourri, flashquake, Poetry Midwest, Poetic
Voices, Herons Nest, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, World Haiku Review, and
many others. He is haibun editor for Simply Haiku. Email. Website. © 2004 by Allen McGill. All Rights Reserved.
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