Performing On The Border (Revised)
South of the Red Deer River a ghostly Canadian outpost called Buffalo owned a final dying tourist attraction despite not having any enthusiasm to spark electricity. A mature young lady sat uncomfortably on a four-legged seat that neighbored an elegant table draped in white linen. No one not even the timid artist chained to a typewriter had the time to rewrite a script inserting a male lead who would be a worthy protagonist in a fantasy world filled with wannabes whose goals were to be on a list. Accompanying her was a fountain drink straight from the well acting like an elegant vodka mixture half empty or half full despite being poured from the plastic bottle. Certainly, a thirst quencher.
“He said his name was Simon Cane,” Spoke the glasses’ reflection, “he took the “I” out when he changed his last name to be a performer.”
“A thespian, you know,” her glare left the refreshment to be focused on the three individuals frozen in time on the makeshift presentation platform. A chair usually used for dining was today a star being the resting place for the female talent dressed in a golden outfit and top hat. Two gentlemen one in a formal suit while the other lacking sleeves but still passable for New Year’s Eve attire flanked the single sensational entertainer whose sole purpose was to look pretty.
“You can stop being stone cold,” the finger snapped from the lonely girl.
“Mrs. Ms. Or Miss G did you pay the heating bill?” Inquired the center attraction.
“Credit card went through, Yes, and it is not Mrs., Ms., Or Miss Gee, it is Gennifer like Gennifer would love to smell some flowers if,”
“If a gentlemen brought them to her,” Male Dancer #1 finished the sentence.
“Yes, that would solve the problem.”
“Where is he?” The eye candy stood up, “Where is the illustrious Simon Cane.”
“We were supposed to have boxer or boxing day dinner reservations, but” Gennifer replied, “let us say the Christmas shoe just did not fit.”
“He was that much of a heal?” Male Dancer #2 proposed the question.
“That is right and here I am on New Year’s Eve alone sipping my watery grave.”
“And baby its cold outside,” a line was rendered from the Matre d area.
“Simon,” Gennifer squealed which cued the artistic trio to return to their upright and still positions while she dropped her guard resulting in a loving hug, “Simon Cane!”
“I am here long before the stroke of midnight,” Simon replied with open arms and flowers.
“Did you make our New Year’s Eve Dinner reservations?”
“This place is so dead, so I made ours at the special one,”
“Yes, honey in Buffalo, New York.”
Before leaving Gennifer turned around and saw the wax like figures, “oh you three I left naked wings in the refrigerator, just warm them up, Happy New Year, and do not forget to shut off the spotlight when you are done on stage.
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