An eerie rhythm took over the backstage of the Mirzoyan Theater. There was the expected pulse of preshow anticipation and the occasional whispered command of the prop crew, but it was in sync, folding together neatly with the rustling soundtrack of the audience on the other side of the curtain taking their seats.
Other than someone wedging gum in one of the curtain pulleys, things were going way too smoothly for an opening night.
Anderson Buckman was terrified. He had been in community theater all his life. If one or two more things didn’t go wrong before the show, they would go wrong during the show, his directorial debut.
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. His childhood favorite. His dream, his glory, his—
“Mr. Buckman!” A woman veritably bellowed as she marched from stage right to Anderson’s position stage left.
No one called him Mr.Buckman. He was Anderson to almost everyone, Andybird to his closest friends. Clerks at the DMV didn’t even call him Mr. Buckman.
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