Curiousity Killed the Skunk
You make my heart glad. Thank you for confirming that people actually are reading this; I mean, I know you, Martha (aka Bruce) and a few people (who might be just one person) who go by the moniker of Anonymous read this regularly, but actors are used to aural (say that carefully, please) stimuli and confirmation of appreciation such as boo's, cheers, hisses, or applause. And the occasional solid object.
I'm going to say here that this is not a deeply funny story--I mean you won't be clutching your sides or leaping out of your chairs like that funny little man in the Chronicle theatre reviews--you may just smile a little and go on to someone else's blog, OK? Ready? Here we go.
I was playing Richard II in the play titled the same at Cal Shakes about 1994-ish; if you don't know the show, it's about an impulsive, ineffectual king who is deposed by Henry Bolingbroke (who later crowns himself Henry IV and whose son, Prince Hal becomes Henry V) is imprisoned and later killed--the sin of Regicide, which haunts both Hal and Henry.
I was costumed in a white robe, had a wig and beard and looked uncannily like Jesus Christ himself; my entrance from stage left was slow -- pained but dignified -- almost sacrificial, one might say. I regularly heard murmurs from the audience on my entrance, whispered remarks like "Why, he looks uncannily like Jesus Christ himself!" or "Doesn't he look almost sacrificial, Honey?" -- "Yes! And so dignified--slow too!" on my appearance. There was also the occasional "Why is he wearing a dress?" or "Gee, I wish I had sandals like that."............
One night the sounds from the audience were particularly audible; I'd had a very good show thus far that night, in the zone, sharp and focused and was feeling good. I said as much to myself. "Damn, I'm good!" I said to myself. Only later did I find that a skunk had followed in my wake from offstage left, changed his mind (stage fright?) about participating in the scene with the oddly clad yet dignified and sacrificial personage ahead of him and gone into the audience. Hence the gasps.
But it didn't stop there--he apparently then worked his way through the crowd and helped himself to the choice tidbits in everyone's picnic baskets; there were no protests -- they all leaned back in their seats as far as they could, said "Nice skunk, niiiice skunk, oh what a pretty little skunk you are--go on, take as much as you want!" and other kind declarations of generosity.
I'd been acting my pants off up there and I don't think a single person heard the scene. It kind of brought me down a notch or two...........not many actors can claim having been upstaged by a skunk.
But to allay any fears and contrary to the murderous title of this piece, the skunk lived, though obesity may have claimed him in the end. The little stinker.