Ce n'est pas un fictoïde [FICTOID]

I’m a script doctor, but unless you have grade schoolers, you’ve never seen my work.

See, I rewrite plays for elementary schools.  I fill plotholes, tighten dialog, work on character motivations.

Think there isn’t much demand for that?  Ha!  Shows how much you know.  PTA parents are sooooo competitive these days, and once the courts removed all restrictions against gay couples adopting, well, the bar for children’s school plays got raised pretty high.

I’m currently in rehearsals on a play for Mrs. Ernerson’s 3rd grade class, The Story Of Corn.  I got the call about a week ago.  “You’ve got to come in,” she said.  “The play is a mess.  The corn stalks are having trouble remembering their lines, the rain cloud is using method acting to depict the rain and the janitor is threatening to quit if he does it again.

“To make matters worse, the sun is failing and we may have to go with her understudy.  I mean, the understudy performs a wonderful mushroom, but she’s not really sun material.”

“Relax,” I said.  “You’re talking to the guy who saved Santa’s Christmas Party and Goldilocks:  The Untold Story.  I can fix this.”

I got into this racket from my previous gig:  I was an art therapist for a major museum.  Most people don’t realize it, but paintings and sculptures have feelings, and if they don’t feel confident and bright, patrons think the museum is dull and uninspiring.

Calder mobiles are the worse, even worse than the Magritte bowler hats.  When they get depressed they just droop there, looking suicidal. 

My job was to go in, talk to the art work, see what was bothering them, and try to get their spirits up so that the patrons felt they got their money’s worth.

One of the curators once took me aside and asked if I worked with children.

“You mean you’re going to exhibit kids?” I asked, wondering if he meant to dangle them from the ceiling like a Calder.

“No,” he said, and explained that his son’s kindergarten production of Les Misérables was running into problems.

Well, I agreed to take a look and help if I could, and the next thing you know -- bingo! -- I’m a grade school play doctor.

© Buzz Dixon