Take 1

Within minutes, I would be on Television. Me, Mousy Marion; at college, the girl voted 'Least likely to.......' My heart was doing a tango, and I was thankful that my leather gloves hid my sweaty palms.

This chance of fame was due to my ex boyfriend, Andy Crawford, or as I tend to call him now, 'that schmuck'. He was my boss at the call center. Andrew was so sophisticated and I drooled over him. When he suggested that he move into my apartment, I felt so safe and so much in love that I was day dreaming of choosing an engagement ring. A white gold ring, I thought, with no decorations on the shoulders, so that nothing would distract from the dazzling diamond.

There was a slight problem. As I was choosing an engagement ring, Andy -schmuck - was bedding my best friend..... in my bed. I threw him and Connie out of my home and out of my life. I spent the next few weeks getting drunk and sleeping on the sofa - I'd taken an axe to the bed.

It was during one of my intoxicated evenings that I saw the advert. Scene painter needed. Casselman Amateur Dramatic Society. In my past I had always fancied myself as an artist. I phoned the number there and then before I changed my mind......or sobered up.

Slapping paint on to the scenery was soothing. After a few evenings, I started going to the Amateur Dramatic immediately after my work, and painting cartoons of Andy and Connie with knife and gunshot wounds. Occasionally, I would behead them both and then whitewash them all out. As I said, it was very soothing. That's what Stephen, the Society's star actor, said when we first got talking.

"You really love this, don't you?" He studied one of my woodland scenes, unaware that I'd just buried two dead people under the pile of leaves. "The detail is quite exceptional". I looked at him with fresh eyes; artists do so love praise. Stephen was the chief reason for the Dramatic Society's success, not to mention the chief reason why all the audiences were drooling women. He had that boyish charm, not to mention dark brown eyes, which made women want to mother him. I would like to do more than mother him, I thought, and was startled that I could think like that so soon after 'schmuck'.

"You could say it has brought me out of myself." I acknowledged his compliment.

"Ah! Been on a downer, have you?" He quizzed gently. He was so easy to talk to, and in short order, I told him all about my ex-love life, and where I wanted to go with my life. "I want to paint." I explained. "One day you can brag that you knew Marion McCarthy, the famous artist."
Stephen took my arm. "Let me buy you a coffee so that one day you can brag about knowing the famous actor, Steve Cosgrove."

That was how it had started. That was why I was now feeling faint and why my legs were buckling with stage fright; just another few seconds to go. Stephen and I became lovers, much to my amazement and the disgust of every stage struck woman in town. And, it was Steve who persuaded me to get out from behind the scenery onto the stage.

"No way!" I was adamant. "I have not the slightest desire to become an actress."

"But you would like to be rich, wouldn't you?" He raised his eyebrows. "It is only a small part, Marion, but you will be on Television. Who knows where it will lead?"
I allowed myself to be persuaded by Steve. It took him a few weeks of ...er...persuasion, and I only agreed because I thought he needed a rest.

Our parts were to be an old couple. We started rehearsing after Steve got his strength back. He showed me how to look old and wizened.

"It is more to do with attitude than makeup. Think old, and you will act old". He explained. I learned how to walk with a permanent stoop. I found it difficult to shuffle, but Stephen came up with the clever idea for me to wear shoes that were 2 sizes too big. That made me shuffle with a vengeance.

Soon, the tremor in my voice became second nature, and when Stephen applied the makeup for the dress rehearsal, I hardly recognized myself. I was a senior. We scrounged around the Goodwill Shops for the proper clothing and after padding out our cheeks and middle, we were almost ready.

"Let's try a real test," Stephen suggested. "The Mall, on Saturday afternoon?"

The Mall was a revelation. Up until then I had thought seniors were the rudest people on the planet. After I found out what they had to contend with, I changed my mind. As seniors, we became invisible. We were pushed, jostled, sneered at and verbally abused. It was a disturbing experience, but it worked. Nobody recognized us.

I took a deep breath. Stephen squeezed my hand and tried to calm me down "Remember it is being recorded. It isn't live." As if that made a difference, I thought.
On cue, we both pushed open the swing doors like typical seniors. I tried hard to ignore the cameras, and prayed that I wouldn't fluff my lines. Then I was on.

"Get your hands up." I said feebly, reinforcing the words with the sawn-off shotgun.

I can't wait to see 'America's Most Wanted.'