Dancing with the Tsars
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 8:52 pm
133. WW
The suits were concerned enough about how the season was shaping up that they flew out to Los Angeles without even beefing about it. They also didn't bother to feel insulted when, exactly three minutes after the appointed hour, Fleiss entered the conference room and took his chair at the head of the table. Just as he did the first time, he nodded at them without smiling and said, "Your dime."
"We're concerned," began the usual spokesuit. "We saw this as an opportunity to proactively build parallel niches, given the mixing of the two shows."
Fleiss nodded.
"But," the spokesuit continued, "we need to credibly actualize reliable strategic theme areas if this has any chance to succeed."
The Fleissmice looked at their boss, bafflement written all over their faces.
Another suit, one with a calculator showing on his iPad, spoke up. "We're trying to evolve cross-platform applications," he said. "In order to do that, we must completely administer principle-centered process improvements."
Fleiss looked as if he were humoring a two-year-old. "How would you suggest we go about that?"
The spokesuit appeared relieved that Fleiss wasn't fighting him. "We must dramatically extend goal-oriented leadership skills and dynamically engineer goal-oriented channels," he said. "We must synergistically mesh enterprise-wide interfaces."
Fleiss winked at the Fleissmice. "I see," he said, putting on his best serious face. "I think we'll need to customize progressive human capital. Perhaps we also should collaboratively monetize next-generation potentialities. I do like to be forward-looking."
The spokesuit's face lit up with pleasure. "Good!" he exclaimed. "We can interactively benchmark mission-critical best practices and proactively target high-quality sources."
Fleiss nodded. "Happy to work with you," he said, rising. "We'll completely administer principle-centered process improvements right away. Thank you for coming, gentlemen, and for sharing your concerns so frankly."
The suits rose, too, smiling and nodding as they filed out the door. When they left, Fleiss sat back down.
"What the hell was that?" asked one of the Fleissmice.
"Beats me," said Fleiss, laughing. "I got my responses from a corporate BS generator. Seems to have worked."
The Fleissmice all looked relieved.
"OK, guys, back to it," Fleiss said, still smiling at them. "Nothing has changed."
The suits were concerned enough about how the season was shaping up that they flew out to Los Angeles without even beefing about it. They also didn't bother to feel insulted when, exactly three minutes after the appointed hour, Fleiss entered the conference room and took his chair at the head of the table. Just as he did the first time, he nodded at them without smiling and said, "Your dime."
"We're concerned," began the usual spokesuit. "We saw this as an opportunity to proactively build parallel niches, given the mixing of the two shows."
Fleiss nodded.
"But," the spokesuit continued, "we need to credibly actualize reliable strategic theme areas if this has any chance to succeed."
The Fleissmice looked at their boss, bafflement written all over their faces.
Another suit, one with a calculator showing on his iPad, spoke up. "We're trying to evolve cross-platform applications," he said. "In order to do that, we must completely administer principle-centered process improvements."
Fleiss looked as if he were humoring a two-year-old. "How would you suggest we go about that?"
The spokesuit appeared relieved that Fleiss wasn't fighting him. "We must dramatically extend goal-oriented leadership skills and dynamically engineer goal-oriented channels," he said. "We must synergistically mesh enterprise-wide interfaces."
Fleiss winked at the Fleissmice. "I see," he said, putting on his best serious face. "I think we'll need to customize progressive human capital. Perhaps we also should collaboratively monetize next-generation potentialities. I do like to be forward-looking."
The spokesuit's face lit up with pleasure. "Good!" he exclaimed. "We can interactively benchmark mission-critical best practices and proactively target high-quality sources."
Fleiss nodded. "Happy to work with you," he said, rising. "We'll completely administer principle-centered process improvements right away. Thank you for coming, gentlemen, and for sharing your concerns so frankly."
The suits rose, too, smiling and nodding as they filed out the door. When they left, Fleiss sat back down.
"What the hell was that?" asked one of the Fleissmice.
"Beats me," said Fleiss, laughing. "I got my responses from a corporate BS generator. Seems to have worked."
The Fleissmice all looked relieved.
"OK, guys, back to it," Fleiss said, still smiling at them. "Nothing has changed."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 8:59 pm
134. Belle
Rasputin and Sergei had left the hockey rink shortly after the second dance. As they were traversing the parking lot towards their car, Sergei spotted an object on the parking lot.
"Oh good! It's here--just where they said it would be!" He picked it up and handed it to Rasputin. Rasputin nodded in ackowledgement. Both men got in the car, Sergei driving, and sped away.
After getting some take-out sushi, the pair arrived at the undisclosed location. Inside, they were greeted by Lex and Fox Trotsky. Courtney and Tierra were in an alcove, playing darts. The score was tied.
Sergei handed the food to Fox, whose mouth commenced to water as he emptied the bag and set the table. Rasputin handed the object to Lex, who said, "Good job! We were almost out of time. This gadget needs recharging."
The group engaged in light chatter while eating.
"That was quite the sentimental journey," said Courtney.
"I know. The producers only offered me a trip to someplace called Tierra del Fuego. They said I'd set the place on fire. I passed--I figured I was hot enough here." Tierra apparently equated fire with limelight.
"I hope you didn't tell Chris he could use bachspeak when he announced the departure," Lex addressed Rasputin.
Rasputin shrugged, looking guilty.
"Uh oh! We might run out of chesse," Sergei interjected.
"Sergei, will you please serve the Key Lime pie?" Fox asked Sergei, "before the price of limes goes into orbit," he added.
Rasputin and Sergei had left the hockey rink shortly after the second dance. As they were traversing the parking lot towards their car, Sergei spotted an object on the parking lot.
"Oh good! It's here--just where they said it would be!" He picked it up and handed it to Rasputin. Rasputin nodded in ackowledgement. Both men got in the car, Sergei driving, and sped away.
After getting some take-out sushi, the pair arrived at the undisclosed location. Inside, they were greeted by Lex and Fox Trotsky. Courtney and Tierra were in an alcove, playing darts. The score was tied.
Sergei handed the food to Fox, whose mouth commenced to water as he emptied the bag and set the table. Rasputin handed the object to Lex, who said, "Good job! We were almost out of time. This gadget needs recharging."
The group engaged in light chatter while eating.
"That was quite the sentimental journey," said Courtney.
"I know. The producers only offered me a trip to someplace called Tierra del Fuego. They said I'd set the place on fire. I passed--I figured I was hot enough here." Tierra apparently equated fire with limelight.
"I hope you didn't tell Chris he could use bachspeak when he announced the departure," Lex addressed Rasputin.
Rasputin shrugged, looking guilty.
"Uh oh! We might run out of chesse," Sergei interjected.
"Sergei, will you please serve the Key Lime pie?" Fox asked Sergei, "before the price of limes goes into orbit," he added.
_________________
Belle
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 9:09 pm
135. Belle
dancing with the tsars CUE CARD
We have good news and bad news. [Audible gasp from audience]
You want the bad news first?
____________________________________
dancing with the tsars CUE CARD
Bad news
Ames and Elizabeth have left the show. [Audible gasp from audience]
They are nowhere to be found. They didn't even take a moment to say their "goodbyes." [Audible gasp from audience]
And we thought we had a connection. [Audible sigh from audience]
We will surely miss their charm and joie de vivre. [Applause]
But as you know, we always let our cast members set their own rules. [Audience laughs uproariously]
It appears that they have, indeed, taken a Sentimental Journey. [Orchestra plays a few bars as audience goes, "Awwwww"]
____________________________________
dancing with the tsars CUE CARDdancing with the tsars CUE CARD
Good news
This seems this show is on track for going on record as having the MOST hook-ups per season EVER. [Laughter]
I guess The Bachelor will have to take a back seat in this hockey rink. [Appluase and stomping feet]
Now there's no need for a formal elimination. [Polite applause]
So instead we'll just eliminate the cheesy judging summaries [Boos!] and proceed right to the closing remarks.
Tsarina Catherine, Reid, Julianne, Derek, here are your chamomile bouquets. [Audience whistles]
[Holds up vodka bottle from Melissa's tray] Since there are no losers tonight, let's make a toast to the happy couple. [Booze!]
_____________________________________
136. Belle
dancing with the tsars MESSAGE BOARD
Savvy in Savannah
Yeah? Which happy couple?
dancing with the tsars CUE CARD
We have good news and bad news. [Audible gasp from audience]
You want the bad news first?
____________________________________
dancing with the tsars CUE CARD
Bad news
Ames and Elizabeth have left the show. [Audible gasp from audience]
They are nowhere to be found. They didn't even take a moment to say their "goodbyes." [Audible gasp from audience]
And we thought we had a connection. [Audible sigh from audience]
We will surely miss their charm and joie de vivre. [Applause]
But as you know, we always let our cast members set their own rules. [Audience laughs uproariously]
It appears that they have, indeed, taken a Sentimental Journey. [Orchestra plays a few bars as audience goes, "Awwwww"]
____________________________________
dancing with the tsars CUE CARDdancing with the tsars CUE CARD
Good news
This seems this show is on track for going on record as having the MOST hook-ups per season EVER. [Laughter]
I guess The Bachelor will have to take a back seat in this hockey rink. [Appluase and stomping feet]
Now there's no need for a formal elimination. [Polite applause]
So instead we'll just eliminate the cheesy judging summaries [Boos!] and proceed right to the closing remarks.
Tsarina Catherine, Reid, Julianne, Derek, here are your chamomile bouquets. [Audience whistles]
[Holds up vodka bottle from Melissa's tray] Since there are no losers tonight, let's make a toast to the happy couple. [Booze!]
_____________________________________
136. Belle
dancing with the tsars MESSAGE BOARD
Savvy in Savannah
Yeah? Which happy couple?
_________________
Belle
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 9:16 pm
137. Belle
After the exit of Ames and Tsarina Elizabeth, the production team met again to update plans for the remainder of the season. The Fleissmice (FM) were sitting comfortably and squeaking cheerfully when the boss (MF) walked in--exactly three minutes after the scheduled time.
Here is an excerpt from the conference:
FM1: Remember how the suits from ABC said we needed to do some stuff to accomplish some stuff that would benefit their operation in some kind of way?
FM2: And you responded we were doing even better stuff and then they got all relaxed and happy in some kind of way?
MF: I don't have to remember. That's what I have you for--in some kind of way.
FM3: Well, we've been nibbling on all kinds of things to discover some kind of way to up the ante in the ratings.
MF: Oh, yeah? I hope we don't have a slew of wood slivers and cheese crumbles to clean up. I hate litter!
FM4: Home town dates.
MF: I know it's hard to tell the difference, but this show isn't The Bachelor.
FM5: It's close enough. A lot of skin, jiggling, whining, cluelessness, emoting, exploiting and promoting--just what the viewers want.
FM6: We're down to four teams. It's time. It'll be the BEST twist EVER!
MF: I take it you're not talking about the dance.
FM7: Who cares about the dance? As long as we get the buzz.
FM8: True. Not to mention that a mirror ball trophy is right up there on the tacky meter with a Neil Lane do-over.
MF: Okay, you rambunctious rodents! Make it happen--some kind of way. Just make sure there are plenty of tears, and I don't mean mine.
After the exit of Ames and Tsarina Elizabeth, the production team met again to update plans for the remainder of the season. The Fleissmice (FM) were sitting comfortably and squeaking cheerfully when the boss (MF) walked in--exactly three minutes after the scheduled time.
Here is an excerpt from the conference:
FM1: Remember how the suits from ABC said we needed to do some stuff to accomplish some stuff that would benefit their operation in some kind of way?
FM2: And you responded we were doing even better stuff and then they got all relaxed and happy in some kind of way?
MF: I don't have to remember. That's what I have you for--in some kind of way.
FM3: Well, we've been nibbling on all kinds of things to discover some kind of way to up the ante in the ratings.
MF: Oh, yeah? I hope we don't have a slew of wood slivers and cheese crumbles to clean up. I hate litter!
FM4: Home town dates.
MF: I know it's hard to tell the difference, but this show isn't The Bachelor.
FM5: It's close enough. A lot of skin, jiggling, whining, cluelessness, emoting, exploiting and promoting--just what the viewers want.
FM6: We're down to four teams. It's time. It'll be the BEST twist EVER!
MF: I take it you're not talking about the dance.
FM7: Who cares about the dance? As long as we get the buzz.
FM8: True. Not to mention that a mirror ball trophy is right up there on the tacky meter with a Neil Lane do-over.
MF: Okay, you rambunctious rodents! Make it happen--some kind of way. Just make sure there are plenty of tears, and I don't mean mine.
_________________
Belle
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Join date : 2013-03-03
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 9:22 pm
138. WW
"So, that's it, then," said the first worker.
"Yep, that it is," said the second.
They were both lost in the profundity of their observations for a minute, and paused in their tasks. The first worker looked at the billboards surrounding the hockey -- now dancing -- rink. He took in the advertisements touting cures for men's mid-life problems, women's mid-life problems, everyone's old-age problems, and shook his head. "How will folks know what to do?" he mused, as he began pulling the signs down.
"Beats me," said the second.
In short order the signs littered the floor. The workers picked them up and carried them out to a waiting one-ton truck and tossed them in the back. "All this destruction just for some dancers," said the first worker.
"Go figure," said the second.
They stood scratching their heads as the truck pulled away.
"Miller time," said the first worker.
"Last one to the bar is a dirty bird," said the second.
139. WW
The four artists assembled in front of the Chief of the Fleissmice.
"Hometowns," the Chief was saying to them. "Each of you is responsible to paint a series of silhouettes representing various neighborhoods in the hometowns of the final four contestants. We'll put them up around the rink, right where those advertising billboards were."
"Um..." began one of the artists... "whose hometowns? The Russians', the bachpeople's, or the dance pros'?"
The Chief of the Fleissmice looked puzzled, then stricken. He pulled on his chin whiskers. Finally he gave an airy wave, shook his head and exclaimed, "Oh! Look at the time!" And with that he rushed out of the room.
"So, that's it, then," said the first worker.
"Yep, that it is," said the second.
They were both lost in the profundity of their observations for a minute, and paused in their tasks. The first worker looked at the billboards surrounding the hockey -- now dancing -- rink. He took in the advertisements touting cures for men's mid-life problems, women's mid-life problems, everyone's old-age problems, and shook his head. "How will folks know what to do?" he mused, as he began pulling the signs down.
"Beats me," said the second.
In short order the signs littered the floor. The workers picked them up and carried them out to a waiting one-ton truck and tossed them in the back. "All this destruction just for some dancers," said the first worker.
"Go figure," said the second.
They stood scratching their heads as the truck pulled away.
"Miller time," said the first worker.
"Last one to the bar is a dirty bird," said the second.
139. WW
The four artists assembled in front of the Chief of the Fleissmice.
"Hometowns," the Chief was saying to them. "Each of you is responsible to paint a series of silhouettes representing various neighborhoods in the hometowns of the final four contestants. We'll put them up around the rink, right where those advertising billboards were."
"Um..." began one of the artists... "whose hometowns? The Russians', the bachpeople's, or the dance pros'?"
The Chief of the Fleissmice looked puzzled, then stricken. He pulled on his chin whiskers. Finally he gave an airy wave, shook his head and exclaimed, "Oh! Look at the time!" And with that he rushed out of the room.
_________________
Belle
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 9:29 pm
140. Belle
The artists just stood there, mystified. But just as they were about to call it quits out of frustration, who should appear but Juan Pablo, as if he'd been paged.
"Look at me," he said. "I want to make you comfortable."
The artists raised their heads and wrinkled the space between their eyebrows in total confusion.
"So here you come to save the day? Who are you, anyway, Mighty Fleissmouse?" One of the artists challenged Juan Pablo.
The others chuckled.
"It's okay!" Juan Pablo responded. "Don't worry; be happy. I know how sensitive you can be. I don't want you to feel bad or disappointed." He waved his arm and made a "come on in" gesture toward the entrance.
Several men in coveralls and wearing sunglasses walked in and set gallons and gallons of paint on the floor in front of the artists. The paint was white and contained metallic stuff that converted the surface it was applied to into the equivalent of a movie screen. They made a quick polite bow, turned around, and sauntered back to where they came from.
Juan Pablo, clearly in charge of the situation, addressed the artists again. "All you have to do is paint the rink walls with this stuff. That's it. We'll take care of the rest. I mean, who needs Michelangelo when we can have a jumbotron?"
The artists were offended, but realistic. One of them said, "Where else are we going to get this kind of media exposure?"
Another mused, "Good grief! Where is Andy Warhol when we need him?"
A third sighed. "Maybe some of the message boardsters will write about the shortage of public education in the arts."
The last one ended the conversation. "Naaaaah. They'll probably just argue about whether we're here for the right reasons."
Juan Pablo made his exit, confident he'd inspired the artists to do their best work. On his way out of the building, he noticed a lot of wood splinters and cheese crumbles on the perimeter of the dance floor. He wondered where they came from, thinking, "The boss isn't going to like this."
The artists just stood there, mystified. But just as they were about to call it quits out of frustration, who should appear but Juan Pablo, as if he'd been paged.
"Look at me," he said. "I want to make you comfortable."
The artists raised their heads and wrinkled the space between their eyebrows in total confusion.
"So here you come to save the day? Who are you, anyway, Mighty Fleissmouse?" One of the artists challenged Juan Pablo.
The others chuckled.
"It's okay!" Juan Pablo responded. "Don't worry; be happy. I know how sensitive you can be. I don't want you to feel bad or disappointed." He waved his arm and made a "come on in" gesture toward the entrance.
Several men in coveralls and wearing sunglasses walked in and set gallons and gallons of paint on the floor in front of the artists. The paint was white and contained metallic stuff that converted the surface it was applied to into the equivalent of a movie screen. They made a quick polite bow, turned around, and sauntered back to where they came from.
Juan Pablo, clearly in charge of the situation, addressed the artists again. "All you have to do is paint the rink walls with this stuff. That's it. We'll take care of the rest. I mean, who needs Michelangelo when we can have a jumbotron?"
The artists were offended, but realistic. One of them said, "Where else are we going to get this kind of media exposure?"
Another mused, "Good grief! Where is Andy Warhol when we need him?"
A third sighed. "Maybe some of the message boardsters will write about the shortage of public education in the arts."
The last one ended the conversation. "Naaaaah. They'll probably just argue about whether we're here for the right reasons."
Juan Pablo made his exit, confident he'd inspired the artists to do their best work. On his way out of the building, he noticed a lot of wood splinters and cheese crumbles on the perimeter of the dance floor. He wondered where they came from, thinking, "The boss isn't going to like this."
_________________
Belle
Buckeye Belle- Power User
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Fri Sep 04, 2015 9:41 pm
141. Belle
Lara and Dr. Zhivago were seated at a table in the break room, sipping orange smoothies and enjoying each other's company.
The oranges for the drink had been smuggled into California from Florida, making for a delicious covert operation, courtesy of Lex and Fox--talk about a plot!
Lara had remained in LA on assignment from The Outsider to cover the current season of the show. She had convinced the producers that there would be considerable viewer interest because of adding royalty to the cast. And since many of the bachpeople thought they were royalty--not to mention some of the professional dancers coaching acting like royalty--the potential for a spike in the ratings was inevitable. That Fleissmiceter--he was a genius at playing to the common denominator of viewers' proclivity for the salacious. Yes, indeed.
But for Lara, that was a no brainer--just a day at the office. She wanted another angle. And the dear doctor, who was now providing her with all the angles she could want, had also become an angle for the show. Why not do a segment on the medical issues he faces as physician to the cast? What great justification for her spending so much time with him!
Since all the facilities used by the cast members are bugged (courtesy of Lex and Fox), we were able to get a recording of the conversation the two were having. Here is an excerpt from the transcript:
142. Belle
Lara: I think this show is probably fun for the viewers to watch, but there has to be more to life than immersing one's sensitivites in reality TV. It's, er, unreal. I'm not saying I don't like my job, but deep in my heart I remember when I wanted to be a nurse.
Dr. Z: I hear you. A doctor has doors opening all over the place to make some kind of contribution, and here I am treating sprains and strains and bumps and bruises and anxiety and tension--all in the name of entertainment? And I don't much like this climate, either. For some reason, I keep having visions of trekking through the snow to make house calls.
Lara: Oh, isn't that so true! And don't you just love the way the tabloids are covering us? Why, sometimes I think they are talking about someone else.
Dr. Z: Oh, you mean the girl in Lara's Song?
Lara: Oh my goodness! I never thought of that, but it could be.
Dr. Z: Speaking of someone else, I think I've been mistaken for a lot of people--like that Egyptian actor who was in all those famous movies. And other doctors, too: the one in the book, or that guy who has his own show. He hides behind a curtain and make impossible transplants, like brains, hearts and courage. Give me a break! Does he think he's some kind of wizard?
Lara: Maybe we could have the best of both worlds. I know about a resort in Vermont that does a lot of good, and offers entertainment as well. It's up for sale. Maybe we could buy it and produce our own reality show. We could call it Frostbite. Anyway, that's somewhere, my love. I don't think I can let it go.
Dr. Z: Ah, my dear. Your idea is like the sound of music to me. I know we'll be accused of being just a poor imitation of that family who escaped from Austria, and not doing it for the right reasons, but I refuse to be trapped in negativity! I accept your rose-colored glasses.
Lara: I'm so excited to get started! We will be multidimensional: global and timeless! PBS science show producers, eat your hearts out!
Dr. Z: Ha ha! Yes . . . and I will put them back in!
Lara and Dr. Zhivago were seated at a table in the break room, sipping orange smoothies and enjoying each other's company.
The oranges for the drink had been smuggled into California from Florida, making for a delicious covert operation, courtesy of Lex and Fox--talk about a plot!
Lara had remained in LA on assignment from The Outsider to cover the current season of the show. She had convinced the producers that there would be considerable viewer interest because of adding royalty to the cast. And since many of the bachpeople thought they were royalty--not to mention some of the professional dancers coaching acting like royalty--the potential for a spike in the ratings was inevitable. That Fleissmiceter--he was a genius at playing to the common denominator of viewers' proclivity for the salacious. Yes, indeed.
But for Lara, that was a no brainer--just a day at the office. She wanted another angle. And the dear doctor, who was now providing her with all the angles she could want, had also become an angle for the show. Why not do a segment on the medical issues he faces as physician to the cast? What great justification for her spending so much time with him!
Since all the facilities used by the cast members are bugged (courtesy of Lex and Fox), we were able to get a recording of the conversation the two were having. Here is an excerpt from the transcript:
142. Belle
Lara: I think this show is probably fun for the viewers to watch, but there has to be more to life than immersing one's sensitivites in reality TV. It's, er, unreal. I'm not saying I don't like my job, but deep in my heart I remember when I wanted to be a nurse.
Dr. Z: I hear you. A doctor has doors opening all over the place to make some kind of contribution, and here I am treating sprains and strains and bumps and bruises and anxiety and tension--all in the name of entertainment? And I don't much like this climate, either. For some reason, I keep having visions of trekking through the snow to make house calls.
Lara: Oh, isn't that so true! And don't you just love the way the tabloids are covering us? Why, sometimes I think they are talking about someone else.
Dr. Z: Oh, you mean the girl in Lara's Song?
Lara: Oh my goodness! I never thought of that, but it could be.
Dr. Z: Speaking of someone else, I think I've been mistaken for a lot of people--like that Egyptian actor who was in all those famous movies. And other doctors, too: the one in the book, or that guy who has his own show. He hides behind a curtain and make impossible transplants, like brains, hearts and courage. Give me a break! Does he think he's some kind of wizard?
Lara: Maybe we could have the best of both worlds. I know about a resort in Vermont that does a lot of good, and offers entertainment as well. It's up for sale. Maybe we could buy it and produce our own reality show. We could call it Frostbite. Anyway, that's somewhere, my love. I don't think I can let it go.
Dr. Z: Ah, my dear. Your idea is like the sound of music to me. I know we'll be accused of being just a poor imitation of that family who escaped from Austria, and not doing it for the right reasons, but I refuse to be trapped in negativity! I accept your rose-colored glasses.
Lara: I'm so excited to get started! We will be multidimensional: global and timeless! PBS science show producers, eat your hearts out!
Dr. Z: Ha ha! Yes . . . and I will put them back in!
_________________
Belle
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:11 am
143. WW
The sounds were escaping the back room, where the Fleissmice met, and spilling out into the dance floor as the final four did their dress rehearsals. The cast tried not to show they were listening.
"It doesn't matter any more," said one voice, clearly filled with frustration and resignation. "I'm just a little mouse. I'm not contributing much. No one will miss me."
A lower voice responded, but the words were indistinct.
"No," said the louder voice in a louder voice. "I tried to create one segment and messed it up so badly you had to come in and walk it back. Then I waited for a cue from you on how to do the next segment. Eventually you created a new segment, but it had nothing to do with the part I no longer understand. There's not one damned thing I can do right now."
Again, there was clearly a response, but the speech was not loud enough to be understood.
"Forget it," said the loud mouse. "I give up."
A door slammed somewhere. Then it was quiet.
The sounds were escaping the back room, where the Fleissmice met, and spilling out into the dance floor as the final four did their dress rehearsals. The cast tried not to show they were listening.
"It doesn't matter any more," said one voice, clearly filled with frustration and resignation. "I'm just a little mouse. I'm not contributing much. No one will miss me."
A lower voice responded, but the words were indistinct.
"No," said the louder voice in a louder voice. "I tried to create one segment and messed it up so badly you had to come in and walk it back. Then I waited for a cue from you on how to do the next segment. Eventually you created a new segment, but it had nothing to do with the part I no longer understand. There's not one damned thing I can do right now."
Again, there was clearly a response, but the speech was not loud enough to be understood.
"Forget it," said the loud mouse. "I give up."
A door slammed somewhere. Then it was quiet.
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Belle
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:15 am
144. Belle
After several minutes of silence, the mice left the room. Most of them were scurrying as if they had someplace to go and little time to get there.
Meanwhile, the dress rehearsal was winding down. While the dancere and coaches were filing out of the ballroom, Reid pulled Julianne aside.
"I have this feeling our team's names are already on the mirror ball trophy," he said.
"Naaaaaaah," Julianne replied. But she smiled and giggled a bit. "I don't think the production company is going to spring for the engraving."
"Well, if it's true, that hasn't quashed my competitive spirit in this contest; it's just made it take a right turn." Reid was speaking very earnestly as Julianne concentrated on him.
"You know," he continued, "since people are always teasing me for being a lousy hula dancer, but I've been practicing hip action. May I demonstrate?"
Reid walked over to the CD player, pressed a button, returned to where Julianne was standing, and took a starting position.
"Soy grande!" he exclaimed, "Are you up to some extracurricular activity? I want you to get this message." He held out his arms.
Julianne nodded in the affirmative and grinned in a most smitten way as the couple began the steps of the cha cha cha to Save the Last Dance For Me. "Don't forget who's takin' you home," he whispered in her ear.
After several minutes of silence, the mice left the room. Most of them were scurrying as if they had someplace to go and little time to get there.
Meanwhile, the dress rehearsal was winding down. While the dancere and coaches were filing out of the ballroom, Reid pulled Julianne aside.
"I have this feeling our team's names are already on the mirror ball trophy," he said.
"Naaaaaaah," Julianne replied. But she smiled and giggled a bit. "I don't think the production company is going to spring for the engraving."
"Well, if it's true, that hasn't quashed my competitive spirit in this contest; it's just made it take a right turn." Reid was speaking very earnestly as Julianne concentrated on him.
"You know," he continued, "since people are always teasing me for being a lousy hula dancer, but I've been practicing hip action. May I demonstrate?"
Reid walked over to the CD player, pressed a button, returned to where Julianne was standing, and took a starting position.
"Soy grande!" he exclaimed, "Are you up to some extracurricular activity? I want you to get this message." He held out his arms.
Julianne nodded in the affirmative and grinned in a most smitten way as the couple began the steps of the cha cha cha to Save the Last Dance For Me. "Don't forget who's takin' you home," he whispered in her ear.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:24 am
145. Belle
In the meantime, the cadre (yes, we're at the point now that we can call them what they are) were convened at the undisclosed location. Its members were Vladimir Lenin (Lex), Leon Trotsky (Fox), Rasputin, Sergei, Juan Pablo, Courtney and Tierra--in all, a rather disagreeable and belligerent motley crew.
Also present were most of the previously eliminated cast members--you know, the ones who signed up for the right reasons. If they weren't going to get their fame and fortune in one way, they'd get it in another.
As always, Lenin chaired the meeting.
"As I am often heard to say, 'popular entertainment is culture in decay.' Now, we don't want culture to decay, do we? We need to save it for the people!" Lenin always had words of wisdom at these meetings.
"Yes, and we need for everyone to learn mine," Juan Pablo piped up.
"It was a rhetorical question," Lex snarled. He went on and addressed Sergei, "Have you got all the equipment ready for tomorrow night?"
"Indeed we do, sir," Sergei responded in his trademark obsequious manner. "We've indoctrinated the crew, and they're raring to go! The lighs will be out on this one, if I may say so!"
"You may say anything you want as long as they follow instructions," growled Lex. "I'm glad to see they are cooperating."
"Oh, we have them eating out of our hands. It is if they's been mesmerized. They can't get enough of that cheese." Rasputin was clearly proud of himself and his skill at controlling people.
"Well, as I am often heard to say, 'There are no morals in reality entertainment. A scoundrel may be of use to us just because he is a scoundrel.' I was counting on that when I recruited you, my dear sidekick," Lex declared.
In the meantime, the cadre (yes, we're at the point now that we can call them what they are) were convened at the undisclosed location. Its members were Vladimir Lenin (Lex), Leon Trotsky (Fox), Rasputin, Sergei, Juan Pablo, Courtney and Tierra--in all, a rather disagreeable and belligerent motley crew.
Also present were most of the previously eliminated cast members--you know, the ones who signed up for the right reasons. If they weren't going to get their fame and fortune in one way, they'd get it in another.
As always, Lenin chaired the meeting.
"As I am often heard to say, 'popular entertainment is culture in decay.' Now, we don't want culture to decay, do we? We need to save it for the people!" Lenin always had words of wisdom at these meetings.
"Yes, and we need for everyone to learn mine," Juan Pablo piped up.
"It was a rhetorical question," Lex snarled. He went on and addressed Sergei, "Have you got all the equipment ready for tomorrow night?"
"Indeed we do, sir," Sergei responded in his trademark obsequious manner. "We've indoctrinated the crew, and they're raring to go! The lighs will be out on this one, if I may say so!"
"You may say anything you want as long as they follow instructions," growled Lex. "I'm glad to see they are cooperating."
"Oh, we have them eating out of our hands. It is if they's been mesmerized. They can't get enough of that cheese." Rasputin was clearly proud of himself and his skill at controlling people.
"Well, as I am often heard to say, 'There are no morals in reality entertainment. A scoundrel may be of use to us just because he is a scoundrel.' I was counting on that when I recruited you, my dear sidekick," Lex declared.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:28 am
146. Belle
Fox had a question. "Have you got all those batteries charged and the tune-ups done?" he addressed Sergei.
Sergei nodded his head in the affirmative. "You know, sir, all you have to do is plug them in, sir. It's not rocket science."
Lex and Fox ignored the chiding from their minion. Fox addressed Courtney and Tierra. "Have you done the leaks to the press?"
Courtney stood up. "Yes, we've been unnamed sources for a lot of them. Yeah, there sure are a lot of them. I never realized that, and I've even been in some of them!"
Tierra interjected, "The only puzzling thing was The Outsider. They're usually chomping at the bit to get inside info, but they've just lost Lara, their chief correspondent, and don't know which end is up. I truly fear for their demise."
"That's my line!" Ben exclaimed angrily. Rasputin glared at him.
"I doubt it," Juan Pablo muttered under his breath. "What do you want to bet he got it off a cue card?"
Lex took control of the conversation. "As I'm often heard to say, 'The tabloids are not only a collective propagandist and a collective agitator, but also a collective organizer of the masses.' I can't wait to see them rise up against the tyranny of TV."
"The mice will be here shortly," said Lex to Fox. "We are going to brief them and give them their final scurrying orders."
Fox had a question. "Have you got all those batteries charged and the tune-ups done?" he addressed Sergei.
Sergei nodded his head in the affirmative. "You know, sir, all you have to do is plug them in, sir. It's not rocket science."
Lex and Fox ignored the chiding from their minion. Fox addressed Courtney and Tierra. "Have you done the leaks to the press?"
Courtney stood up. "Yes, we've been unnamed sources for a lot of them. Yeah, there sure are a lot of them. I never realized that, and I've even been in some of them!"
Tierra interjected, "The only puzzling thing was The Outsider. They're usually chomping at the bit to get inside info, but they've just lost Lara, their chief correspondent, and don't know which end is up. I truly fear for their demise."
"That's my line!" Ben exclaimed angrily. Rasputin glared at him.
"I doubt it," Juan Pablo muttered under his breath. "What do you want to bet he got it off a cue card?"
Lex took control of the conversation. "As I'm often heard to say, 'The tabloids are not only a collective propagandist and a collective agitator, but also a collective organizer of the masses.' I can't wait to see them rise up against the tyranny of TV."
"The mice will be here shortly," said Lex to Fox. "We are going to brief them and give them their final scurrying orders."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:34 am
147. Belle
The Fleissmice were scurrying as best they could. Quiet Mouse seemed to be in slow motion. It was very rare that the mice were recorded interacting, but there was something in the air. Curious Mouse noticed Quiet Mouse's sober demeanor and asked, "Why the long face? You look positively desolate."
"I'm not a horse; I have a pointy face," Quiet Mouse replied, sighing. "I feel like I'm in a kind of fog. I'm trying to do my job, but it seems like I'm being controlled by some alien force. I'm behind schedule and people are disappointed. I'd kick myself if it would help. Just because I'm a moues, being quiet as a mouse hasn't done any good at all."
Curious Mouse: Well, I'm surely going to miss Loud Mouse.
Quiet Mouse: Me too. The show won't be the same, but I think we should save a place, just in case.
Curious Mouse: Just in case. You never know . . .
Quiet Mouse: Yeah, it really does matter. The show must go on.
Curious Mouse: I know. The boss doesn't care about the moods of his creative staff. We have to fend for ourselves.
Quiet Mouse: I know. I wonder what these new people have in mind. They've made a lot of promises. Why, it's like brainwashing with propaganda, I'd say. And I'm having enough trouble with my brain as it is! They're telling us things are going to be fair from now on if we do what they tell us. What do you think?
Curious Mouse: Hey! I'm supposed to be the one asking questions. I sure wish we had Loud Mouse to advise us.
Quiet Mouse: Let's just hope.
Curious Mouse: Yes, hope springs eternal.
Quiet Mouse: Oh, come on! Don't get cheesy on me. Besides, I have no appetite right now.
Curious Mouse: Scurry on .
148. LadyJaneGray
The mice were feeling lost but decided to install the panels in place of the signs. They added white panels that would look like lace to the sides of the video boards. The lacy effect was not fabric but torn paper.
Juan came back with SD cards that would be fed into slots in the bottom of the panels. He left again whistleing "Don't Worry Be Happy".
The Fleissmice were scurrying as best they could. Quiet Mouse seemed to be in slow motion. It was very rare that the mice were recorded interacting, but there was something in the air. Curious Mouse noticed Quiet Mouse's sober demeanor and asked, "Why the long face? You look positively desolate."
"I'm not a horse; I have a pointy face," Quiet Mouse replied, sighing. "I feel like I'm in a kind of fog. I'm trying to do my job, but it seems like I'm being controlled by some alien force. I'm behind schedule and people are disappointed. I'd kick myself if it would help. Just because I'm a moues, being quiet as a mouse hasn't done any good at all."
Curious Mouse: Well, I'm surely going to miss Loud Mouse.
Quiet Mouse: Me too. The show won't be the same, but I think we should save a place, just in case.
Curious Mouse: Just in case. You never know . . .
Quiet Mouse: Yeah, it really does matter. The show must go on.
Curious Mouse: I know. The boss doesn't care about the moods of his creative staff. We have to fend for ourselves.
Quiet Mouse: I know. I wonder what these new people have in mind. They've made a lot of promises. Why, it's like brainwashing with propaganda, I'd say. And I'm having enough trouble with my brain as it is! They're telling us things are going to be fair from now on if we do what they tell us. What do you think?
Curious Mouse: Hey! I'm supposed to be the one asking questions. I sure wish we had Loud Mouse to advise us.
Quiet Mouse: Let's just hope.
Curious Mouse: Yes, hope springs eternal.
Quiet Mouse: Oh, come on! Don't get cheesy on me. Besides, I have no appetite right now.
Curious Mouse: Scurry on .
148. LadyJaneGray
The mice were feeling lost but decided to install the panels in place of the signs. They added white panels that would look like lace to the sides of the video boards. The lacy effect was not fabric but torn paper.
Juan came back with SD cards that would be fed into slots in the bottom of the panels. He left again whistleing "Don't Worry Be Happy".
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:45 am
149. Belle
Reid, Catherine, Derek and Julianne were waiting in the wings for their entrance. They were having a brief conversation before it was time for the cue to perform.
"I can't wait for you to see Philadephia," Reid said to Catherine.
Catherine looked puzzled. "How am I going to see a city when I'm on a dance floor in a converted ice rink?"
Catherine was known for her curiosity.
"Oh, you'll see," Derek interjected. "You'll have a virtual tour as you traverse and circumnavigate the dance floor." Derek didn't really talk that way, but it conjured up the vision the author wanted. "Just look at the images projected on the rails where the billboards used to be."
Julianne picked up the narrative. "Yeah, it's all done by 21st century technology. And dancing while viewing famous landmarks is called multi-tasking."
Catherine was skepical, but game. She knew her moves well, and was counting on Reid, who was quite familiar with the city, not to be so distracted by sight seeing as to trip her up. "All right," she said. "I'm a fan of progress and innovation. If this is the way to take a tour, I'm on for the the ride. If a time machine isn't going to faze me, why should parquet posing as a tour bus freak me out?" Catherine was also good with languages.
The stage manager motioned to the team. It was time for their entrance. Reid and Catherine glided onto the floor to the tune of the theme from Rocky adapted for the Paso Doble. When they appeared, a comment came from the camera crew. "I thought this music was for a prize fight, not a bull fight."
A co-worker came back with, "Well, there is always bull in this show, and we already know who's getting the prize. All we need is a fight."
Reid, Catherine, Derek and Julianne were waiting in the wings for their entrance. They were having a brief conversation before it was time for the cue to perform.
"I can't wait for you to see Philadephia," Reid said to Catherine.
Catherine looked puzzled. "How am I going to see a city when I'm on a dance floor in a converted ice rink?"
Catherine was known for her curiosity.
"Oh, you'll see," Derek interjected. "You'll have a virtual tour as you traverse and circumnavigate the dance floor." Derek didn't really talk that way, but it conjured up the vision the author wanted. "Just look at the images projected on the rails where the billboards used to be."
Julianne picked up the narrative. "Yeah, it's all done by 21st century technology. And dancing while viewing famous landmarks is called multi-tasking."
Catherine was skepical, but game. She knew her moves well, and was counting on Reid, who was quite familiar with the city, not to be so distracted by sight seeing as to trip her up. "All right," she said. "I'm a fan of progress and innovation. If this is the way to take a tour, I'm on for the the ride. If a time machine isn't going to faze me, why should parquet posing as a tour bus freak me out?" Catherine was also good with languages.
The stage manager motioned to the team. It was time for their entrance. Reid and Catherine glided onto the floor to the tune of the theme from Rocky adapted for the Paso Doble. When they appeared, a comment came from the camera crew. "I thought this music was for a prize fight, not a bull fight."
A co-worker came back with, "Well, there is always bull in this show, and we already know who's getting the prize. All we need is a fight."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:50 am
150. Belle
As the music had been arranged, the beginning of the piece had a slow and almost romantic tempo. As it played, the couple were making graceful and even suggestive moves in front of an image of an oblong blue and silver box with the logo PHILADELPHIA emblazoned on it next to a depiction of an oblong sandwich containing steak and other fillings.
"Oh, my goodness! How cheesy is that?" came from someone in the control room.
Next, there were spins in front of the famous modern art "LOVE" sculpure, and some rather aggressive-looking postures in front of Independene Hall. Then the couple came together as they passed the Liberty Bell and and moved toward the Philadelphia Museum of Arts. There, Reid cast Catherine away and leapt across the floor as if scaling the iconic steps.
Finally, he rejoined his partner as they made their moves toward the Betsy Ross House, where Reid waved his cape as if it were a flag and Catherine looked submissive--thus highlighting the irony of women's 200-year fight for equality despite the gender of the creator of the country's textile symbol.
Even before the music ended, the audience roared and stomped and whistled. The judges stood. Derek and Julianne joined their charges on the floor and all of them beamed. As they made to exit and proceeded toward the sky box for their interview, the orchestra played a reprise of the music.
"A slam dunk!" Derek said.
"Oh no!" Reid exclaimed. "We forgot about the '76ers!"
"It's okay," said Juan Pablo, who was watching on a monitor in the control room.
As the music had been arranged, the beginning of the piece had a slow and almost romantic tempo. As it played, the couple were making graceful and even suggestive moves in front of an image of an oblong blue and silver box with the logo PHILADELPHIA emblazoned on it next to a depiction of an oblong sandwich containing steak and other fillings.
"Oh, my goodness! How cheesy is that?" came from someone in the control room.
Next, there were spins in front of the famous modern art "LOVE" sculpure, and some rather aggressive-looking postures in front of Independene Hall. Then the couple came together as they passed the Liberty Bell and and moved toward the Philadelphia Museum of Arts. There, Reid cast Catherine away and leapt across the floor as if scaling the iconic steps.
Finally, he rejoined his partner as they made their moves toward the Betsy Ross House, where Reid waved his cape as if it were a flag and Catherine looked submissive--thus highlighting the irony of women's 200-year fight for equality despite the gender of the creator of the country's textile symbol.
Even before the music ended, the audience roared and stomped and whistled. The judges stood. Derek and Julianne joined their charges on the floor and all of them beamed. As they made to exit and proceeded toward the sky box for their interview, the orchestra played a reprise of the music.
"A slam dunk!" Derek said.
"Oh no!" Reid exclaimed. "We forgot about the '76ers!"
"It's okay," said Juan Pablo, who was watching on a monitor in the control room.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 10:56 am
151. Belle
Tsar Peter I and Tessa were next on the program. They took the ballroom stage elegantly dressed in evening wear as their coach, Tony Dovolani, positioned himself in the sky box to watch the performance. The couple struck a classic pose to await the beginning of the music. With his imposing height of 6'8" and his imperial and commanding stature, and her exquisite delicate beauty, this couple had the audience wholly enraptured even before they took their first steps.
The dance was a waltz adapted to the soulful reminiscence of I Left My Heart in San Francisco. The choreography was a masterful blend of sophistication, charm, emotion, skill and grace with touches of humor and earthiness--typical of Tony's widely respected artistry and suggesting the character of the city itself.
As the sounds from the orchestra and pictures from the floor began to take over the broadcast equipment in the control room, the directors and assistants couldn't help commenting:
"They are beyond good. They should get the mirror ball trophy."
"Yeah, it's sad. I don't think they've gotten the memo yet."
Tsar Peter and Tessa delighted the audience as they whirled around on their tour of virtual San Francisco. They began tentatively in front of an image of a bottle of Chardonnay, signifying their proximity to the wine country and toasting the excitement of their performance. The dance became more energetic as they entered Chinatown, and reached a state of exuberance at Fisherman's Wharf.
Next was Ripleys Believe It or Not Museum. As the couple glided past it, the sound engineer in the control remarked, "Someone with a funny bone snuck an inside joke in on this one. You could say, 'Believe it or not' about any reality show these days."
The dancers were in tight hold on the virtual trolley; their steps moved in precise form at the Golden Gate Bridge.
There were perfect spins and extensions at the San Francisco Opera. All in all, the audience, taken by storm, was utterly captivated. Shouts of "Ten", "Ten", "Ten" burst forth from the stands.
After the judges' comments of praise, Tessa and Tsar Peter bowed in appreciation and made their way to the sky box and joined Tony. There were "high fives" all around.
Tsar Peter I and Tessa were next on the program. They took the ballroom stage elegantly dressed in evening wear as their coach, Tony Dovolani, positioned himself in the sky box to watch the performance. The couple struck a classic pose to await the beginning of the music. With his imposing height of 6'8" and his imperial and commanding stature, and her exquisite delicate beauty, this couple had the audience wholly enraptured even before they took their first steps.
The dance was a waltz adapted to the soulful reminiscence of I Left My Heart in San Francisco. The choreography was a masterful blend of sophistication, charm, emotion, skill and grace with touches of humor and earthiness--typical of Tony's widely respected artistry and suggesting the character of the city itself.
As the sounds from the orchestra and pictures from the floor began to take over the broadcast equipment in the control room, the directors and assistants couldn't help commenting:
"They are beyond good. They should get the mirror ball trophy."
"Yeah, it's sad. I don't think they've gotten the memo yet."
Tsar Peter and Tessa delighted the audience as they whirled around on their tour of virtual San Francisco. They began tentatively in front of an image of a bottle of Chardonnay, signifying their proximity to the wine country and toasting the excitement of their performance. The dance became more energetic as they entered Chinatown, and reached a state of exuberance at Fisherman's Wharf.
Next was Ripleys Believe It or Not Museum. As the couple glided past it, the sound engineer in the control remarked, "Someone with a funny bone snuck an inside joke in on this one. You could say, 'Believe it or not' about any reality show these days."
The dancers were in tight hold on the virtual trolley; their steps moved in precise form at the Golden Gate Bridge.
There were perfect spins and extensions at the San Francisco Opera. All in all, the audience, taken by storm, was utterly captivated. Shouts of "Ten", "Ten", "Ten" burst forth from the stands.
After the judges' comments of praise, Tessa and Tsar Peter bowed in appreciation and made their way to the sky box and joined Tony. There were "high fives" all around.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:01 am
152. Belle
Ivan and Tenley were to follow with a fox trot in their virtual venue, Portland, Oregon. Thay would be accompanied by the strains of Beyond the Sea.
"Huh!" Ivan spouted, pointing to Tessa and Peter. "What was so great about that? It looked pretty namby-pamby to me. And now these clowns want me to trot like a fox? And Portland? I thought Port meant communion wine, not the ocean. If I want to dance near an ocean, I will sail to Portland, Maine and dance a hornpipe. Now, there's a man's city--lumber, lobster, potatoes!" He began to hum to the tune of Song of the Volga Boatman. "Yo-oh, heave ho!"
Maks, the coach, was both horrified and amused. It had been difficult to keep his regal charge in check all season. Much as he was still chasing after the mirror ball trophy, he was amazed that was Ivan still in the compeition, with all of his outbursts and partner changes and behaving as if he were royalty or something.
The dancers took their places. The music began. Ivan and Tenley took off. Ivan appeared stiff and combative. Tenley, a natural dancer, was able to cope, but barely. As they passed before the Pioneer Courthouse, Ivan's comtemtuous mood came to life.
"What?" he roared. "I am not here to be judged! I am Tsar of all the Russias! I do the judging."
At the China Gates he declared, "That remimds me; I must prepare for my next invasion."
He looked at the Animal Pools and Skidmore Fountain with disdain and mumbled, "This dance is all wet. This show is all wet. This town is all wet. All wet--just like this hockey rink is when the power goes out. All wet!"
And the orchestra played on.
The next attraction, the Japanese American Historic Plaza, was not attractive to Ivan. "Hmmm," he muttered.
"That's an alliance I don't favor. I want these places for my empire." At the Hawthorne Bridge, his comment was, "As historic sites go, I'd rather have the George Washington Bridge. At least it's named after a real warrior and not a tree-hugging writer!
The last virtual destination on the dance was White Stag Sign. "Stag? Stag! I should have come stag to this party! They still haven't given me a partner worthy of my power and influence. Stag? I should go out and shoot one! Pants? Unbelievable!"
The dance was over. There had been no golden sand. There had been no ships to watch go sailing--not even to Portland, Maine. There had been only raspberries, and intermittent shouts of "Boo!" from the audience.
"Arrest them all," Ivan bellowed. "Arrest those rabble rousers!"
"Uh, your highness," whispered Tenley tentatively, tugging at Ivan's sleeve. "We have freedom of speech here. Chill."
Ivan unceremoniously stomped off the floor, leaving everyone in the building in stunned silence and Maks, observing from the sky box, shaking his head in apparent dismay but thinking, "Way to go, bro!"
Ivan and Tenley were to follow with a fox trot in their virtual venue, Portland, Oregon. Thay would be accompanied by the strains of Beyond the Sea.
"Huh!" Ivan spouted, pointing to Tessa and Peter. "What was so great about that? It looked pretty namby-pamby to me. And now these clowns want me to trot like a fox? And Portland? I thought Port meant communion wine, not the ocean. If I want to dance near an ocean, I will sail to Portland, Maine and dance a hornpipe. Now, there's a man's city--lumber, lobster, potatoes!" He began to hum to the tune of Song of the Volga Boatman. "Yo-oh, heave ho!"
Maks, the coach, was both horrified and amused. It had been difficult to keep his regal charge in check all season. Much as he was still chasing after the mirror ball trophy, he was amazed that was Ivan still in the compeition, with all of his outbursts and partner changes and behaving as if he were royalty or something.
The dancers took their places. The music began. Ivan and Tenley took off. Ivan appeared stiff and combative. Tenley, a natural dancer, was able to cope, but barely. As they passed before the Pioneer Courthouse, Ivan's comtemtuous mood came to life.
"What?" he roared. "I am not here to be judged! I am Tsar of all the Russias! I do the judging."
At the China Gates he declared, "That remimds me; I must prepare for my next invasion."
He looked at the Animal Pools and Skidmore Fountain with disdain and mumbled, "This dance is all wet. This show is all wet. This town is all wet. All wet--just like this hockey rink is when the power goes out. All wet!"
And the orchestra played on.
The next attraction, the Japanese American Historic Plaza, was not attractive to Ivan. "Hmmm," he muttered.
"That's an alliance I don't favor. I want these places for my empire." At the Hawthorne Bridge, his comment was, "As historic sites go, I'd rather have the George Washington Bridge. At least it's named after a real warrior and not a tree-hugging writer!
The last virtual destination on the dance was White Stag Sign. "Stag? Stag! I should have come stag to this party! They still haven't given me a partner worthy of my power and influence. Stag? I should go out and shoot one! Pants? Unbelievable!"
The dance was over. There had been no golden sand. There had been no ships to watch go sailing--not even to Portland, Maine. There had been only raspberries, and intermittent shouts of "Boo!" from the audience.
"Arrest them all," Ivan bellowed. "Arrest those rabble rousers!"
"Uh, your highness," whispered Tenley tentatively, tugging at Ivan's sleeve. "We have freedom of speech here. Chill."
Ivan unceremoniously stomped off the floor, leaving everyone in the building in stunned silence and Maks, observing from the sky box, shaking his head in apparent dismay but thinking, "Way to go, bro!"
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:05 am
153. Belle
To everyone's great shock and amazement (amazement is big in reality TV, isn't it?), Tsar Ivan the Terrible appeared in the sky box as if his departure from the dance floor had gone just as scripted--at least it appeared that way from the look of his body language. His verbal language was another matter.
Ivan was still ranting. Tessa offered him a cup of chamomile tea, which he accepted without any gesture of appreciation. (It had long been suspected that it was Ivan who pilfered the show's stockpile of chamomile. Reid and Catherine, having been given bunches of the stuff as best dancers each week, had donated most of it to the rest of the cast.) Ivan gulped down the brew, but could not be appeased.
Ivan snorted. "This whole production is terrible. They promised us the highlights of North America and all we get are ridiculous Potemkin Villages on walls."
"How do you know from Potemkin Village?" Catherine asked.
"Do these clowns think they've got the only time machine?" Ivan retorted. "They say you're great and I'm terrible? We should have a dance contest of our own!"
Catherine responded in a soothing voice. "Of course I'll dance with you, dear fellow. I think I can be your equal in all respects. Don't you know the glass on that mirror ball trophy you're competing for are shards from the glass ceiling we women broke? Oh, you don't get the reference? How Neanderthal of you!!"
Ivan scowled. But he managed to restrain himself from committing stage rage. After all, even if Catherine was a pain in the rear, she was a royal pain in the rear. and royals needed to stick together. All he said was, "Hmph! What ever happened to our culture that the bourgoisie make their fortunes by exploiting the peasants with fakery and illusion?"
"Well, it beats shooting them or starving them," Tony intervened, ever the diplomat. "Modern technology is a marvel. Take a look at the dance floor now. It's being set up for Sharleen and Tsar Alexander I. They're going to Ottawa, Ontario in Canada. Did you know that's the coldest national capital in the world? They'll be doing a contemporary number to Canadian Sunset. Louis Van Amstel has done a marvelous job of choreography for this dance."
Ivan relaxed a bit. "At least I can relate to the weather there, eh?"
Maks was barely audible as he commented, "I have a feeling that this is going to be the Canadian sunset
To everyone's great shock and amazement (amazement is big in reality TV, isn't it?), Tsar Ivan the Terrible appeared in the sky box as if his departure from the dance floor had gone just as scripted--at least it appeared that way from the look of his body language. His verbal language was another matter.
Ivan was still ranting. Tessa offered him a cup of chamomile tea, which he accepted without any gesture of appreciation. (It had long been suspected that it was Ivan who pilfered the show's stockpile of chamomile. Reid and Catherine, having been given bunches of the stuff as best dancers each week, had donated most of it to the rest of the cast.) Ivan gulped down the brew, but could not be appeased.
Ivan snorted. "This whole production is terrible. They promised us the highlights of North America and all we get are ridiculous Potemkin Villages on walls."
"How do you know from Potemkin Village?" Catherine asked.
"Do these clowns think they've got the only time machine?" Ivan retorted. "They say you're great and I'm terrible? We should have a dance contest of our own!"
Catherine responded in a soothing voice. "Of course I'll dance with you, dear fellow. I think I can be your equal in all respects. Don't you know the glass on that mirror ball trophy you're competing for are shards from the glass ceiling we women broke? Oh, you don't get the reference? How Neanderthal of you!!"
Ivan scowled. But he managed to restrain himself from committing stage rage. After all, even if Catherine was a pain in the rear, she was a royal pain in the rear. and royals needed to stick together. All he said was, "Hmph! What ever happened to our culture that the bourgoisie make their fortunes by exploiting the peasants with fakery and illusion?"
"Well, it beats shooting them or starving them," Tony intervened, ever the diplomat. "Modern technology is a marvel. Take a look at the dance floor now. It's being set up for Sharleen and Tsar Alexander I. They're going to Ottawa, Ontario in Canada. Did you know that's the coldest national capital in the world? They'll be doing a contemporary number to Canadian Sunset. Louis Van Amstel has done a marvelous job of choreography for this dance."
Ivan relaxed a bit. "At least I can relate to the weather there, eh?"
Maks was barely audible as he commented, "I have a feeling that this is going to be the Canadian sunset
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:16 am
154. Belle, in consultation with Dreamweaver
With a little time for the commercial and showing the footage from rehearsal, interviews and other pre-broadcast activities, the residents in the sky box were able to view the work being done down on the dance floor. The images of the Ottawa attractions were up.
Since most of the audience knew little about this city up north, there were gasps of delight from the stands, as if the occupants had come for a fireworks display.
Clockwise, they were shown the best sights in Ottawa.
The first stop was the National Gallery of Canada--one of Canada's premier art galleries. The choreography called for several romantic poses and holds. They would move on to Parliament Hill and display their intricate footwork.
The next stop was the Peacekeeping Monument that commemorates Canada's role in international peacekeeping. There, they would perform their moves holding hands.
At the Byward Market, which for early 200 years has been a rollicking public market that has played host to artisans, farmers and craft merchants, they would entertain the audience with joyous leaps.
At the Ottawa Locks there would be risky and adventurous lifts signifying the founding, in 1826, of what became modern day Ottawa, by drawing commerce and services to their location on the Rideau Canal.
The dance was planned to end at the famed Chateau Laurier Hotel, where the couple would relax in the lobby after their whirlwind tour on foot.
The audience were on the edge of their seats in anticipation of the last performance of the evening.
With a little time for the commercial and showing the footage from rehearsal, interviews and other pre-broadcast activities, the residents in the sky box were able to view the work being done down on the dance floor. The images of the Ottawa attractions were up.
Since most of the audience knew little about this city up north, there were gasps of delight from the stands, as if the occupants had come for a fireworks display.
Clockwise, they were shown the best sights in Ottawa.
The first stop was the National Gallery of Canada--one of Canada's premier art galleries. The choreography called for several romantic poses and holds. They would move on to Parliament Hill and display their intricate footwork.
The next stop was the Peacekeeping Monument that commemorates Canada's role in international peacekeeping. There, they would perform their moves holding hands.
At the Byward Market, which for early 200 years has been a rollicking public market that has played host to artisans, farmers and craft merchants, they would entertain the audience with joyous leaps.
At the Ottawa Locks there would be risky and adventurous lifts signifying the founding, in 1826, of what became modern day Ottawa, by drawing commerce and services to their location on the Rideau Canal.
The dance was planned to end at the famed Chateau Laurier Hotel, where the couple would relax in the lobby after their whirlwind tour on foot.
The audience were on the edge of their seats in anticipation of the last performance of the evening.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:21 am
155. Belle
Suddenly, halfway through the dance, the power went off all throughout the building. The audience, accustomed to being powerless. showed no panic as Fleissmice, who were prepared for any emergency, used flashlights to escort the dancers and all the other occupants of the arena who were not in their places, to safe seats.
"Uh oh!" said the director in the control room. "I wasn't expecting that much of a sunset. We're gonna have to fire the special effects mouse."
In a few moments a battery operated rotating searchlight was found. The beam was focused on the judges. Even though they could not see the dance team, they gave their comments.
Mikhail said the dance showed poise and dignity worthy of a nation's capital, with a refreshing artistic flair.
Anna said she was impressed by what she saw, but had to judge based on only that. "Regretfully, you are at a great disadvantage because we were unable to critique the last part of the dance."
Ashley, who was the most experienced at eliminations, had the last word. It was in her contract. "Let's get to the chase. I can't sugar coat it--you're going home. Sorry, but that's the way it has to be. We can't boot Ivan because we're terrified that he'll boot us."
She continued. "We can't eliminate Tessa and Peter because they are the best dancers in the cast, and we need to preserve some credibility. And we can't vote out Reid and Catherine because, er, just because."
Although Ashley had been rather authoritative at the outset of her speech, she was almost as timid as a (oh dear) mouse at the conclusion. "Oh, come on! Everybody knows what's going to happen!"
Chris and Melissa were totally in the dark as to what to do next, to they stayed in their seats and waited.
Sharleen and Alexander groped their way to the exit. They comported themselves admirably. We know that because we know what they would have done.
"I'm sorry, my dear," Alexander said with great sincerity. "That was unfortunate. But I am glad I will no longer be in the spotlight." He looked back at where the judges were seated. "Hollywood is not for me." Alexander wanted to console Sharleen.
"Thanks for your support," Sharleen said. "I don't really mind. I gave it my best shot. Some of this experience was rather organic, but over all, I would have appreciated it more if I were dumber."
Suddenly, halfway through the dance, the power went off all throughout the building. The audience, accustomed to being powerless. showed no panic as Fleissmice, who were prepared for any emergency, used flashlights to escort the dancers and all the other occupants of the arena who were not in their places, to safe seats.
"Uh oh!" said the director in the control room. "I wasn't expecting that much of a sunset. We're gonna have to fire the special effects mouse."
In a few moments a battery operated rotating searchlight was found. The beam was focused on the judges. Even though they could not see the dance team, they gave their comments.
Mikhail said the dance showed poise and dignity worthy of a nation's capital, with a refreshing artistic flair.
Anna said she was impressed by what she saw, but had to judge based on only that. "Regretfully, you are at a great disadvantage because we were unable to critique the last part of the dance."
Ashley, who was the most experienced at eliminations, had the last word. It was in her contract. "Let's get to the chase. I can't sugar coat it--you're going home. Sorry, but that's the way it has to be. We can't boot Ivan because we're terrified that he'll boot us."
She continued. "We can't eliminate Tessa and Peter because they are the best dancers in the cast, and we need to preserve some credibility. And we can't vote out Reid and Catherine because, er, just because."
Although Ashley had been rather authoritative at the outset of her speech, she was almost as timid as a (oh dear) mouse at the conclusion. "Oh, come on! Everybody knows what's going to happen!"
Chris and Melissa were totally in the dark as to what to do next, to they stayed in their seats and waited.
Sharleen and Alexander groped their way to the exit. They comported themselves admirably. We know that because we know what they would have done.
"I'm sorry, my dear," Alexander said with great sincerity. "That was unfortunate. But I am glad I will no longer be in the spotlight." He looked back at where the judges were seated. "Hollywood is not for me." Alexander wanted to console Sharleen.
"Thanks for your support," Sharleen said. "I don't really mind. I gave it my best shot. Some of this experience was rather organic, but over all, I would have appreciated it more if I were dumber."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:30 am
156. Belle
Unlike the converted hockey rink, the undisclosed location was ablaze with light, not to mention abuzz with activity. The usual suspects (that would be Vladimir Lenin (Lex), Leon Trotsky (Fox Trot), Rasputin, Sergei, Courtey, Tierra, and some of the minions) were lounging in the entertainment room, smoking the best Cuban cigers (one of the perks of this mission) and sipping the finest French brandy. Despite their apparent their ideological persuasion, it appeared they had eschewed the proletarian beer and nachos!
They were, of course, watching the show when the blackout at the arena occurred. A cheer rang out just as if it had come from a group at a Super Bowl viewing party when their team scored a touchdown. There were enthusiastic high fives all around.
"A blackout at the arena! Would that be anything like the Gunfight at the OK Corral?" Tierra mused.
"No, I think the gunfight at the corral is gonna happen during Andi's season," Courtney answered.
"I thought the OK corral was where Juan Pablo was staying," said Sergio.
Rasputin was not amused. "C'mon comrades," he scolded. "Let's stay on message. We still have work to do to pull off the MOST most revolutionary show EVER."
"That's what I call WINNING!" exclaimed Courtney.
"Some up-and-coming Leonard Cohen type is going to write a country song about this and call it The Night the Lights Went Out in Ottawa," Fox said. "That does have a certain ring to it, eh?"
"We need to tie up the loose ends." Lex declard. "Is Captain Kirk on board?"
"Isn't he a bit old for this?" Courtney interjected.
"No older than some of the passengers," said Rasputin. "He doesn't like being out of work, and he's always up for a new gig."
"Good," said Fox. "He's a perfect space cadet. I never did warm up to him as a lawyer."
"There's one more thing," said Sergio, "and I think it's about time."
Just then the door swung open with a bang. Ivan the Terrible waltzed in (figurately speaking), with Sharleen in tow. (As always happens on reality television, some of the cast members bond with one another.)
"He's not nearly as fearsome and despotic as the press has made him out to be," Sharleen said.
"I'm no dummy," Ivan added. "I know where my vodka is poured." There were handshakes all around.
As the eventful day came to a close and group disbanded to retire for the night, Fox turned to Lex and asked, "Do you really think this is going to bring culture back to the people?"
"I guess we'll know from the ratings," Lex replied.
Unlike the converted hockey rink, the undisclosed location was ablaze with light, not to mention abuzz with activity. The usual suspects (that would be Vladimir Lenin (Lex), Leon Trotsky (Fox Trot), Rasputin, Sergei, Courtey, Tierra, and some of the minions) were lounging in the entertainment room, smoking the best Cuban cigers (one of the perks of this mission) and sipping the finest French brandy. Despite their apparent their ideological persuasion, it appeared they had eschewed the proletarian beer and nachos!
They were, of course, watching the show when the blackout at the arena occurred. A cheer rang out just as if it had come from a group at a Super Bowl viewing party when their team scored a touchdown. There were enthusiastic high fives all around.
"A blackout at the arena! Would that be anything like the Gunfight at the OK Corral?" Tierra mused.
"No, I think the gunfight at the corral is gonna happen during Andi's season," Courtney answered.
"I thought the OK corral was where Juan Pablo was staying," said Sergio.
Rasputin was not amused. "C'mon comrades," he scolded. "Let's stay on message. We still have work to do to pull off the MOST most revolutionary show EVER."
"That's what I call WINNING!" exclaimed Courtney.
"Some up-and-coming Leonard Cohen type is going to write a country song about this and call it The Night the Lights Went Out in Ottawa," Fox said. "That does have a certain ring to it, eh?"
"We need to tie up the loose ends." Lex declard. "Is Captain Kirk on board?"
"Isn't he a bit old for this?" Courtney interjected.
"No older than some of the passengers," said Rasputin. "He doesn't like being out of work, and he's always up for a new gig."
"Good," said Fox. "He's a perfect space cadet. I never did warm up to him as a lawyer."
"There's one more thing," said Sergio, "and I think it's about time."
Just then the door swung open with a bang. Ivan the Terrible waltzed in (figurately speaking), with Sharleen in tow. (As always happens on reality television, some of the cast members bond with one another.)
"He's not nearly as fearsome and despotic as the press has made him out to be," Sharleen said.
"I'm no dummy," Ivan added. "I know where my vodka is poured." There were handshakes all around.
As the eventful day came to a close and group disbanded to retire for the night, Fox turned to Lex and asked, "Do you really think this is going to bring culture back to the people?"
"I guess we'll know from the ratings," Lex replied.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:33 am
157. Belle
IVAN THE TERRIBLE (1530-1584)
Ivan became the first Russian ruler to become Tsar of all the Russias after his conquest of neighboring areas, including Astrakhan and Siberia. He presided over this vast multi-ethnic state as it emerged from medieval times as a regional empire, having undergone countless changes along the way.
Ivan has been reported as having a complex personality, ranging from his harsh treatment of the nobility to his popularity among the common people. He was an intelligent diplomat and a patron of the arts. But he was also prone to having rages and episodes of paranoia, during which he could commit acts of violence, including homicide.
IVAN THE TERRIBLE (1530-1584)
Ivan became the first Russian ruler to become Tsar of all the Russias after his conquest of neighboring areas, including Astrakhan and Siberia. He presided over this vast multi-ethnic state as it emerged from medieval times as a regional empire, having undergone countless changes along the way.
Ivan has been reported as having a complex personality, ranging from his harsh treatment of the nobility to his popularity among the common people. He was an intelligent diplomat and a patron of the arts. But he was also prone to having rages and episodes of paranoia, during which he could commit acts of violence, including homicide.
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:49 am
158. Belle
The season finale was looming; it was only a few days away. The needed repairs to the electrical system had been made, and the maintenance crew was making sure the floor of the rink was in good shape for the dances.
They had been noticing wood splinters for weeks, and there were even more this time. "What's going on here?" one of the workers asked. "Aren't they giving the mice enough cheese?"
His co-worker took another look and said, "Yeah, either that, or a family of beavers has crashed the place."
"Well, you never know what's going on at these old sports arenas. Look at what happened to the wiring. Good grief! That might have been caused by a rodent revolution," another chimed in.
"Ha ha!" said the first man, hoisting his mop into a rifle position. "Maybe they are as disillusioned as some of the viewers are."
The supervisor halted the conversation. "That's enough speculation. Speculation is for the tabloids and message boards. We need to get ready for the show. They say this finale is going to be one for the record books."
The season finale was looming; it was only a few days away. The needed repairs to the electrical system had been made, and the maintenance crew was making sure the floor of the rink was in good shape for the dances.
They had been noticing wood splinters for weeks, and there were even more this time. "What's going on here?" one of the workers asked. "Aren't they giving the mice enough cheese?"
His co-worker took another look and said, "Yeah, either that, or a family of beavers has crashed the place."
"Well, you never know what's going on at these old sports arenas. Look at what happened to the wiring. Good grief! That might have been caused by a rodent revolution," another chimed in.
"Ha ha!" said the first man, hoisting his mop into a rifle position. "Maybe they are as disillusioned as some of the viewers are."
The supervisor halted the conversation. "That's enough speculation. Speculation is for the tabloids and message boards. We need to get ready for the show. They say this finale is going to be one for the record books."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 11:58 am
159. Belle
Reid and Julianne were having a lively chat in the break room. They had just finished their dress rehearsal for tonight's live competition for the season title. Julianne and Derek had choreographed an elegant fox trot to It Had To Be You. Reid and Tsarina Catherine had done it well in the rehearsal, but Derek had thought that although it was technically spot in, there could be more chemistry--more emotion. This is what they were discussing over their drinks.
Reid told Julianne that he had enjoyed the shows he'd been on. It was a lark for him, a chance to have fun, meet new people, go to exotic places and, if the stars were aligned properly, he was open to romence. He had no interest in forcing things, making a career as a bachperson.
"To tell the truth, this has come much further than I ever thought when I signed on. Catherine is a wonderful woman, and I'm very happy to have met her and worked with her, but no, my Bunsen burner is cooking something besides a mirror ball trophy."
He gazed directly at Julianne, telling her by telepathy that the stars were aligned properly.
Julianne already had a thriving career. She didn't need to go any further in this show to advance it. She had discovered in the last few weeks that she'd rather go further with Reid. He was charming, funny, comfortable in his own skin, and not at full of himself or a publicity seeker. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She gazed directly back at Reid.
"Well, if you're thinking what I'm thinking, we're about to blow this place, right?" Reid was now smiling, and so was Julianne.
Both of them started to laugh.
"Hey, this is doing them a big favor! A scandal like this is going to be a ratings boon," said Julianne.
"I think so," Reid agreed. "I can't wait to see how they spin this," he added. "And besides, that mirror ball trophy would have looked awful on my mantelpiece."
Reid and Julianne were having a lively chat in the break room. They had just finished their dress rehearsal for tonight's live competition for the season title. Julianne and Derek had choreographed an elegant fox trot to It Had To Be You. Reid and Tsarina Catherine had done it well in the rehearsal, but Derek had thought that although it was technically spot in, there could be more chemistry--more emotion. This is what they were discussing over their drinks.
Reid told Julianne that he had enjoyed the shows he'd been on. It was a lark for him, a chance to have fun, meet new people, go to exotic places and, if the stars were aligned properly, he was open to romence. He had no interest in forcing things, making a career as a bachperson.
"To tell the truth, this has come much further than I ever thought when I signed on. Catherine is a wonderful woman, and I'm very happy to have met her and worked with her, but no, my Bunsen burner is cooking something besides a mirror ball trophy."
He gazed directly at Julianne, telling her by telepathy that the stars were aligned properly.
Julianne already had a thriving career. She didn't need to go any further in this show to advance it. She had discovered in the last few weeks that she'd rather go further with Reid. He was charming, funny, comfortable in his own skin, and not at full of himself or a publicity seeker. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" She gazed directly back at Reid.
"Well, if you're thinking what I'm thinking, we're about to blow this place, right?" Reid was now smiling, and so was Julianne.
Both of them started to laugh.
"Hey, this is doing them a big favor! A scandal like this is going to be a ratings boon," said Julianne.
"I think so," Reid agreed. "I can't wait to see how they spin this," he added. "And besides, that mirror ball trophy would have looked awful on my mantelpiece."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 12:02 pm
160. WW
Loud Mouse hadn't completely disappeared, of course. It hung around the arena watching the rehearsals and final performances. It snuck into meetings disguised as just another of the many Fleissmice. It listened in hallways and at doorways and heard the occasional shocking conversation. The only area it couldn't crack was the double secret planning meetings, in which the Big Cheese made all the final decisions.
It didn't take long for Loud Mouse to realize the season was progressing better than it had been before. Episodes moved along in a much more timely fashion, and hiccups in production were no longer occurring.
"Tough to admit," Loud Mouse said to no one in particular, "but this is a vast improvement."
Loud Mouse hadn't completely disappeared, of course. It hung around the arena watching the rehearsals and final performances. It snuck into meetings disguised as just another of the many Fleissmice. It listened in hallways and at doorways and heard the occasional shocking conversation. The only area it couldn't crack was the double secret planning meetings, in which the Big Cheese made all the final decisions.
It didn't take long for Loud Mouse to realize the season was progressing better than it had been before. Episodes moved along in a much more timely fashion, and hiccups in production were no longer occurring.
"Tough to admit," Loud Mouse said to no one in particular, "but this is a vast improvement."
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Re: Dancing with the Tsars
by Buckeye Belle Sat Sep 05, 2015 12:06 pm
161. Belle
The cast had been asked to assemble a couple hours before the final broadcast. Rasputin was also present. He addressed the group. Here is a summary of what he said.
Ivan is nowhere to be seen. He's been missing for a week. Has he contacted anyone? Was he safe? No one knew.
All right, could Maks dance in his place? Julianne and Reid have announced they have other plans. Let's have Derek and Catherine take the floor. We can have reunion fillers like they've done in all the other seasons. The audience will buy that.
We need to rewrite your script, Chris, so be prepared to ad lib if you need to. You should be good at that, with all your experience in the sky box. We haven't figured out how to present the mirror ball trophy yet, but we'll come up with something pertty soon. The floor is in great condition, so that won't be a problem.
"Okay, go on and get ready, and don't break any legs!" was Rasputin's final shot.
The cast had been asked to assemble a couple hours before the final broadcast. Rasputin was also present. He addressed the group. Here is a summary of what he said.
Ivan is nowhere to be seen. He's been missing for a week. Has he contacted anyone? Was he safe? No one knew.
All right, could Maks dance in his place? Julianne and Reid have announced they have other plans. Let's have Derek and Catherine take the floor. We can have reunion fillers like they've done in all the other seasons. The audience will buy that.
We need to rewrite your script, Chris, so be prepared to ad lib if you need to. You should be good at that, with all your experience in the sky box. We haven't figured out how to present the mirror ball trophy yet, but we'll come up with something pertty soon. The floor is in great condition, so that won't be a problem.
"Okay, go on and get ready, and don't break any legs!" was Rasputin's final shot.
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