The Treble Wore Trouble (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer Page B
Authors: Mark Schweizer
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Mother P.
"On top of spaghetti," sang Mark Wells, and the rest of the basses joined in immediately in the time-honored campfire classic: "All covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed."
"Kyrie, eleison," added Bev Greene. "Meatball, eleison."
"We're doing the piece we've rehearsed," I announced. "I wrote it and we're singing it. It's the price you pay for having a genius as a choir director."
"I like the anthem fine," said Rebecca Watts from the alto section, "but this story is off to a bad start." She waved her copy of The Treble Wore Trouble at me. I'd printed it on the back of the Psalm.
"I know a girl named Carrie Oakey," said Varmit LeMieux, reading and talking at the same time, a talent he'd probably discovered only recently. We all knew he couldn't sing and read at the same time, a drawback that hampered his choir participation considerably. But he wasn't in the choir to sing. He was in the choir to keep an eye on his wife, Muffy.
"You do not know any girl named Carrie Oakey," snapped Muffy.
Muffy and Varmit had joined the choir soon after they moved to town. Actually, Muffy joined the choir. Varmit tagged along.
"I think I do," said Varmit. "Doesn't she sing in a bar we used to go to? The name sounds pretty familiar."
Muffy huffed out a great sigh of exasperation, then decided to ignore Varmit. She turned her attention to the rest of the choir. "Are all y'all planning to come to the play? We open a week from this coming Friday. Three performances — Friday, Saturday, and a Sunday matinée."
The St. Germaine Little Theater had a long and distinguished history, dating back to 1934. It began as the St. Germaine Footlight Club (named for that grand old community theater in Massachusetts) and specialized in Gilbert and Sullivan, as well as some turn-of-the-century melodramas and contemporary plays. The Footlight Club was the first theater in North Carolina to present Our Town in the mid 1940s and had Walter Brennan come in to headline the production. Walter's sister, directing the show, prevailed on the Oscar-winning actor to take the role of the Stage Manager. Since then the name of the company has changed, and artistic visions have come and gone. We still have a board of directors, though, and the theater puts on two productions a year.
"What's the show?" asked Marjorie.
"It might behoove us to look at this music," I said hopefully.
"Nah," Marjorie answered. "We don't need to go over this anthem again. We've got it cold." Being the only female tenor gave her a sense of propriety. That she kept a flask of something-or-other in the hymnal rack of her choir chair gave the rest of us pause. We did not ask, nor did we tell. Marjorie was in her late seventies at least.
"You don't know? We're doing Welcome to Mitford , adapted by Robert Inman from the books by Jan Karon." Muffy gave Marjorie a deliberately puzzled look. "It's been in the paper about a dozen times. Didn't you see my picture on the front page on Friday?"
Marjorie said, "I don't read the paper."
"You should. Anyway, I'm playing Miss Cynthia Coopersmith. That's the lead. Christopher Lloyd is playing Father Tim Kavanagh and he's directing the production. He's very talented."
"I'm sure you'll have tickets available for sale next week," I said.
"Oh, sure!"
Muffy LeMieux had married Varmit and moved to St. Germaine so they could help run Blueridge Furs, a fur farm that specialized in a registered, hybrid animal called a Minque ® , a genetically engineered cross between a nutria and a South American pacarana. Muffy was a singularly beautiful redhead, a feature often overlooked by many women due to her mildly irritating personality. It was a feature not overlooked by many men, personality or not. She favored angora sweaters, short-sleeved in summer, long in winter, of the sort that might have been popular in Marilyn Monroe's heyday, stretch pants, high heels, and overly large "mall hair."
"Muffy?" Nancy said the first time
"On top of spaghetti," sang Mark Wells, and the rest of the basses joined in immediately in the time-honored campfire classic: "All covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed."
"Kyrie, eleison," added Bev Greene. "Meatball, eleison."
"We're doing the piece we've rehearsed," I announced. "I wrote it and we're singing it. It's the price you pay for having a genius as a choir director."
"I like the anthem fine," said Rebecca Watts from the alto section, "but this story is off to a bad start." She waved her copy of The Treble Wore Trouble at me. I'd printed it on the back of the Psalm.
"I know a girl named Carrie Oakey," said Varmit LeMieux, reading and talking at the same time, a talent he'd probably discovered only recently. We all knew he couldn't sing and read at the same time, a drawback that hampered his choir participation considerably. But he wasn't in the choir to sing. He was in the choir to keep an eye on his wife, Muffy.
"You do not know any girl named Carrie Oakey," snapped Muffy.
Muffy and Varmit had joined the choir soon after they moved to town. Actually, Muffy joined the choir. Varmit tagged along.
"I think I do," said Varmit. "Doesn't she sing in a bar we used to go to? The name sounds pretty familiar."
Muffy huffed out a great sigh of exasperation, then decided to ignore Varmit. She turned her attention to the rest of the choir. "Are all y'all planning to come to the play? We open a week from this coming Friday. Three performances — Friday, Saturday, and a Sunday matinée."
The St. Germaine Little Theater had a long and distinguished history, dating back to 1934. It began as the St. Germaine Footlight Club (named for that grand old community theater in Massachusetts) and specialized in Gilbert and Sullivan, as well as some turn-of-the-century melodramas and contemporary plays. The Footlight Club was the first theater in North Carolina to present Our Town in the mid 1940s and had Walter Brennan come in to headline the production. Walter's sister, directing the show, prevailed on the Oscar-winning actor to take the role of the Stage Manager. Since then the name of the company has changed, and artistic visions have come and gone. We still have a board of directors, though, and the theater puts on two productions a year.
"What's the show?" asked Marjorie.
"It might behoove us to look at this music," I said hopefully.
"Nah," Marjorie answered. "We don't need to go over this anthem again. We've got it cold." Being the only female tenor gave her a sense of propriety. That she kept a flask of something-or-other in the hymnal rack of her choir chair gave the rest of us pause. We did not ask, nor did we tell. Marjorie was in her late seventies at least.
"You don't know? We're doing Welcome to Mitford , adapted by Robert Inman from the books by Jan Karon." Muffy gave Marjorie a deliberately puzzled look. "It's been in the paper about a dozen times. Didn't you see my picture on the front page on Friday?"
Marjorie said, "I don't read the paper."
"You should. Anyway, I'm playing Miss Cynthia Coopersmith. That's the lead. Christopher Lloyd is playing Father Tim Kavanagh and he's directing the production. He's very talented."
"I'm sure you'll have tickets available for sale next week," I said.
"Oh, sure!"
Muffy LeMieux had married Varmit and moved to St. Germaine so they could help run Blueridge Furs, a fur farm that specialized in a registered, hybrid animal called a Minque ® , a genetically engineered cross between a nutria and a South American pacarana. Muffy was a singularly beautiful redhead, a feature often overlooked by many women due to her mildly irritating personality. It was a feature not overlooked by many men, personality or not. She favored angora sweaters, short-sleeved in summer, long in winter, of the sort that might have been popular in Marilyn Monroe's heyday, stretch pants, high heels, and overly large "mall hair."
"Muffy?" Nancy said the first time
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