All the World's a Stage
by Simone Kertesz
Anticipation was the word that could best describe the feeling that was pulsing through the thirteen young bodies. At last the three months of hard work was going to be put to use. It was a gray and rainy Monday morning with a fierce wind that stung your skin. The first dress rehearsal was approaching in a matter of hours and the clock could not have been moving more slowly for the lucky thirteen. They had to control themselves from breaking out of the stale plastic desks whose seats had no doubt been molded into the shape of their backsides. In their minds they were the chosen ones, the privileged few, who were talented enough to be chosen to be in their school’s annual theater workshop performance.
Every year Mr. Salt, the pompous head of the theater department, chose thirteen students to put on a play of his liking. He chose twelve actors and one director. The theater workshop performance was different from all of the other shows put on by the theater department at Berkeley High School. The students that auditioned for this particular performance tended to come from all different walks of life in the student body population as opposed to the regular drama crowd. There was always the jock chosen, almost always a conscious decision on Mr. Salt’s part. He liked the idea of drawing a different crowd and since he was conveniently married to the head of the athletic department, he always recruited at least one athlete to audition. Of course the entire theater department auditioned, but usually only a few students were cast. These students tended not to be the ones who walked around singing show tunes or wore heavy eye make up and combat boots. The rest of the actors were usually students who have dipped their foot in the acting world but had not established themselves as prominent members of the drama department. Then of course there was the thirteenth, Casey the director. Casey was quiet, elusive and unknown. No one expected him to become the director. Benji had been the front runner for the position since the tenth grade and it had been a tremendous upset when Casey had been chosen. Needless to say they did not get along.
“ Ok, now lovely students, magnificent actors and enthusiastic cast members, it is the beginning of the end of your lives… for two weeks of course.”
“ Oh my God, Mr. Salt is such a little shit,” Benji whispered to Ramona.
“ I know he gives the same speech every year, he thinks he’s so funny.”
“ Now actors, we are most graciously being hosted by the wonderful Hillside Club just as we have been for the past six years, thanks toUrma, the lovely caretaker and events coordinator.”
Casey looked around at the Hillside Club which was built out of a deep chestnut wood. The trimming of the windows was a teal blue that contrasted nicely with the aged wood. He had heard rumors that the club had burned down numerous times before, and it always baffled him that each time it was rebuilt it was again made out of wood. The place gave Casey the creeps; it was drafty and smelled like a retirement home. Casey hated old people.
Even though Casey had never acted in a single play, theater was his life. He was an aspiring playwright, with an abundance of talent that his father had deemed “unhealthy for a growing boy.” Unlike most high school seniors who spent their week days slacking off and their weekends partying, Casey spent his time locked away in his room writing down the stories that had always been in his mind. He had written a few short stories, but he found himself to be too impatient. Casey admired the writers, who had the patience to develop a strong and interesting background, but he wanted the action to come fast, and he found out that through being a playwright he could achieve this.
Mr. Salt had stumbled upon Casey’s work, and had insisted that when he was a senior he must write and direct the annual theater workshop performance. So finally it was his moment to shine; he was introducing his baby and was afraid that the world would not understand.
“Um, hello,” Urma said in a squeaky voice, “I just want to let you all know how excited I am to have you all here. I just love the shows that Mr. Salt puts on. In fact back when I was in high school I would always try out for the annual theater workshop performance, but unfortunately…”
“And yes on that note lets all give Urma a round of applause for being our biggest fan,” Mr. Salt said trying to avoid the awkward moment that had developed.
Urma was indeed the annual theater workshop’s biggest fan, and even a bigger fan of Mr. Salt. She followed him around like a little mosquito and listened to every word that he said with such a hunger, that anyone watching could only feel uncomfortable.
Urma was a tall, gangly woman, who had stringy red hair and wore dark rimmed glasses. She had gone to Berkeley High School when Mr. Salt had first been instated as the head of the drama department and was absolutely in love with him. She had auditioned for every show that he directed or been a part of. Unfortunately the same passion she had for Mr. Salt did not translate into her acting ability.
“Ok, so I hope everyone is ready for two weeks of hard work. I expect you all to be focused and attentive at all times. When Casey needs someone to help him I expect at least one of you to be at his side within thirty seconds.”
“Great, now Casey actually has permission to be an ass. I don’t know what that weirdo had to do to get director but it must have been pretty nasty,” Benji whispered to Ramona.
“Benji, I thought you were over this, it’s been three months since he’s been director, it’s time to accept and move on.”
“ That’s easy for you to say. You got the female lead and what does he cast me as?” Benji said a little louder.
Ramona hesitated.
“Come on let’s hear it Ramona. What did I fucking get?”
“You got the mentally retarded kid, I know, but actually that character has a lot of depth.” Benji could hear the lie in her voice and it only made him more upset.
“I can hear you.”
Benji felt eyes on the back of his head and recognized the deep drawl immediately. It was Casey.
“Does it look like I care?” Benji said without turning his head around.
“Maybe if you tried caring, the play wouldn’t be in the current state of shit that it is currently in.”
“It’s not my fault that you wrote a piece of shit, and it’s not my fault that Mr. Salt is such a prick and picked a director who doesn’t know how to direct.”
Casey’s blood began to boil and he felt as if he were going to explode from anger.
“You know what, if you can’t respect me and my work you can get the fuck out of my play,” Casey yelled.
“ Boys what the hell is going on.!”
“Casey’s just kicked me out! What the hell Mr. Salt, he can’t do that.”
“Is this true?”
“Yes.”
“Well Benji, what the director says goes, so I guess I will have to find a replacement.”
“ Fine, if that’s how it is then fuck you all!”
Just as fast as it had started it ended and Benji was gone.
It was opening night and the Hillside Club was gasping with excitement. The actors were backstage nervously doing their warm-ups while Casey and Mr. Salt finalized their opening speech. Benji was sitting in the audience stirring with hatred for both Mr. Salt and Casey.
Five minutes later Casey and Mr. Salt were on stage. Mr. Salt opened his mouth but before even a sound could come out a gun shot went off and Mr. Salt fell to the floor, with a soft grunt. The audience began to erupt with screams and a few moments later Mr. Salt was dead. All of the actors ran on stage to see what the commotion was all about. Casey was kneeling beside Mr. Salt and in a sudden outburst screamed, “I know who it was. It was Benji, fucking Benji!”
The crowed began to swallow Benji alive, but in the dark of the stage left wing a light chuckle could be heard.
“ It was me, it has always been me, it should have been me.” As Urma smiled, her glasses caught the stage lights and she delicetly placed the gun on the prop table.