One final curtain call brought down the house!

Shortly after these jubilant high school thespians were greeted with a standing ovation for our phenomenal three-night extravaganza, a solitary custodian walked across the auditorium stage sweeping up debris as the lights were extinguished on yet another successful theatrical production which undoubtedly created a memory to last a lifetime.

With most of the boisterous dialogue following our fellow stage performers making a hasty exit from the makeshift dressing room, Robert “Mags” Magnifico and I quietly changed back into our street clothes as we readied ourselves to drive across town for a gnarly cast party at the home of Lorrin Vessella, who portrayed the show’s lead role – Dolly Levi.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” I confessed after placing my borrowed suit back on the rolling clothes rack alongside all the other period costumes. “If it hadn’t been for you and Robbie pressuring me to participate in this year’s senior class musical, I would’ve been sitting out there in that audience crying the woulda, coulda, shoulda blues.”

“After attending each and every musical since the seventh grade, you guys finally gave me the courage to break free from my inhibitions; and I’ll never forget it,” I added while sauntering across the polished floor as Ambrose Kempler – a main character of the celebrated event – finished tying his sneakers.

“That’s what friends are for,” exclaimed Mags.

Upon snatching our spring jackets laying atop the executive desk in the corner of the spacious classroom, this pair of close-knit confidants continued our animated conversation into the back parking lot behind the enormous three-story brick structure where we hopped into the Italian stallion’s gold Monte Carlo to drive over to the radical festivities.

Directly after Mr. and Mrs. Peter Vessella welcomed us into their beautifully decorated split-level home, these high school seniors wandered off in different directions at the top of the staircase to investigate the various activities taking place throughout the primary living space.

Since Dr. Petronio Zalamea graciously videotaped the final night of our first-rate performance, I was very curious to see if the camera picked up my face-plant toward the end of the scene at Horace Vandergelder’s Feed Store in Yonkers, New York; so, I eagerly sat down on a nearby living room couch and waited for the fateful moment to play out across the television screen.

Nervously covering my worried face, I peered between my fingers to listen to the last few bars of the classic tune – It Takes a Woman – before the chorus line quickly exited stage right at the culmination of the sequence oozing with male bravado.

Elated to discover that my unfortunate mishap wasn’t visible to the naked eye, I breathed a huge sigh of relief after removing these hands to reveal a broad smile splashed across my face.

“You had nothing to worry about,” proclaimed Martha Prestopine as she reached over to give me a lighthearted pat on the back. “Although I’m sure it was upsetting for you to think the entire audience saw you tumble to the ground, maybe next time you’ll believe your friends when they tell you no one saw a thing.”

“You’re wise beyond your years,” I observed before thanking her for helping me through the unforeseen emotional breakdown in the middle of the musical. “If I had listened to them, I wouldn’t have started crying like a little baby; but I’m very grateful that you were able to fix the make-up on my tear-stained face.”

Feeling a little bit hungry, I traipsed into the kitchen to grab a slice of pepperoni pizza from a Johnny’s Pizza delivery box as well as a can of soda pop in a nearby cooler prior to sitting down at the breakfast nook with a couple of my fellow musical cast members.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite sophomore,” I trumpeted while sidestepping a few giddy underclassmen blocking my path. “I’m thankful that we readjusted our positions on stage after that dancing mishap during dress rehearsal; otherwise, Dr. Zalamea would’ve definitely submitted that video to Candid Camera for a few laughs.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” agreed Aaron Hetrick as he scooted over to make room for me on the end of the bench. “Although I couldn’t prevent you from falling during the scene at Vandergelder’s Feed Store earlier tonight, I’m glad you weren’t physically hurt; and you bounced back like a giant rubber ball.”

“I’m glad there’s not a video of opening night,” admitted Bruce Thalmann with eyes as big as saucers. “After forgetting my lines during the courtroom scene, I was relieved when you finally picked up on my forgetfulness and quickly covered up my mistake.”

“Thanks a lot, Bruce,” I quipped upon whizzing an empty paper plate across the table at the blond-haired teen’s alter ego – Cornelius Hackle. “Due to the orchestra’s intervention, no one in the audience even heard my one and only piece of dialogue; but I made sure that everyone heard it the last two nights of our performance.”

When Mags and Robert “Robbie” Brough found this threesome in the heart of the home finishing up our satisfying snack, the police chief’s offspring opened a can of worms after stating his intentions to have me as his partner in a game of pool against the other two seniors.

“Why does Mark have to be on your team,” quizzed Robbie mimicking the voice from his musical role – Barnaby Tucker.

“Is that even a question,” I chuckled while wrapping an arm around the disgruntled redhead. “When Don Corleone discovered that I know my way around a pool table, he obviously wants me to be a part of the winning team; and if the godfather doesn’t get his way, you might just end up sleeping with the fishes.”

“It’s on like Donkey Kong,” our opponents uttered simultaneously as we raced off toward the basement.

Mark S. Price is a former city government/county education reporter for The Sampson Independent. He currently resides in Clinton.