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 Category:  Humor Non-Fiction
  Posted: March 3, 2021      Views: 66
Chapters:
Prologue 1 2 3 4 

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 ABOUT
BETHSHELBY 
BethShelby is retired from the printing and commercial art field. She is married and has four children and three grandchildren. She and her husband presently live in Tennessee.

Painting, photography, and writing are her passion. She has ha - more...

She is a top ranked author at the #70 position.

She is an accomplished novelist and is currently at the #8 spot on the rankings.

She is an accomplished poet and is currently at the #56 spot on this years rankings.

She is also an active reviewer and is holding the #10 spot on the top ranked reviewer list.

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Chapter 3 of the book Rooted in Dixie
The part wasn't so hot, but there were ways to improve it.
"My Moment On Stage" by BethShelby



Two months into my fifth grade school term, Miss Butts announced that it was our grade’s turn to produce a class play for all of the elementary students' weekly gathering in the auditorium.

“How many of you would like to have a part in our play? Raise your hands.”

Hands shot up all over the room, along with a chorus of “I would! I would! Pick me!”

My hand went up along with all the rest. Granted, it was mostly us girls. We all wanted to be stars. The boys wanted more details, before they committed themselves to something that might involve memory work.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve decided we’re going to do The Golden Goose. Is everyone familiar with that story?”

A couple of hands went up, as well as some groans.”That’s a kid's story,” Jo Anne complained. “Can’t we do something like, Cat on the Hot Tin Roof or My Friend Flicker?”

“My word! No! We’re not doing a Broadway Play. It has to be short, and something a first grader can understand. What’s wrong with you people? I’ve decided on the play. Let’s assign some parts. Some of the parts have more lines to learn than others."

"Warren, how about you being the younger brother, who is kind to the elf in the forest and is rewarded with the golden goose?”  

“No! I don’t want no part. I’ve got a goose at home. I’ll provide the goose. Let Bill be the younger brother. He likes to talk.”

“Well, I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on a real goose. That might be disruptive. We’ll see. How about it Bill? Do you want to be the younger brother?”

Bill shrugged. “I guess so. Why not?”

It turned out, most of the parts in this story were for boys. Our teacher was tired of girls being the only ones who wanted to participate.

She assigned the parts for a father, three sons, a king, an innkeeper, a priest, an elf, and a man who never got enough to drink. That used up all the boys except Warren.

The girls' parts were three daughters, a mother, and the princess who never laughed, until she saw everyone parading around stuck to a golden goose. Of course, all of us girls wanted the role of the princess. Jo Anne managed to get that part.

I was assigned the part of the first daughter, who would try to steal a feather from the golden goose. I had a few lines, but mostly, I would wear a long dress with a white apron and parade around holding onto the tail of the golden goose. Not the greatest of roles, but maybe I could figure out a way to ham it up.

The day of the play arrived, and we came to school in our costumes. At least, I had a role. The girls who didn’t get parts would stand at the doors of the auditorium and hand out our printed programs. Warren arrived at school carrying a coop with a real live gander.

The teacher looked at him with a worried look. “Are you sure we should do this, Warren? What if this thing gets loose?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s very tame. I carry him around all the time.” He whispered to me, “When you catch hold of his tail, twist it. He’ll honk and that will get a big laugh.”

The play proceeded. I said my lines and held the tail lightly. I decided to wait until we were in front of the princess, and a parade of people were stuck behind me. It would be Jo Anne’s big moment, when she would stop crying and start to laugh. Maybe the goose and I could get a laugh, as well.

The line behind me wound around on the stage, and at just the right moment, I gave the gander’s tail one hard twist. The goose was startled with my sudden assault on his rear. He spread his wings and honked loudly, as he attempted to escape. A loose stream of golden goose poop sprayed me, head to toe. The entire auditorium erupted in streaks of laughter.

Much to my chagrin, I had stolen the show after all.

 

Non-Fiction Writing Contest contest entry

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