So before winter break of 2015, Mr. Carter (the theatre director, for those of you who are uncultured) asked me if I would be in a play directed be Jake Shepherd. I said yes because I respect Jake and want Mr. Carter to be proud of me one day. Though the latter may never be true, I joined the play and our cast of five began working on a play titled, End Days (This show is performed January 15th and 16th at 7 and on the 16th at 2, please see it). It's basically about a family who is putting up with a dad (me) who lost his job in 9/11 and a mom (Julia Schmidt) who thinks the rapture is coming. I won't give away more but it's great and emphasizes Jesus.
Rehearsals began but obviously I was out of the state for a while in North Carolina and Georgia, so when I got back we were working at pretty much full speed. Well also when I got back I got really freaking sick so that's annoying as heck. Then I got more sick. I missed a total of three and a half days of school, so my mom made a doctors appointment at the CVS walk-in clinic. A name synonymous with not making appointments. The doctor there, who I could tell was from New Jersey, told me this was going around. "I call it The Crud." Sounds ominous, but who on God's green Earth gave some CVS walk-in doctor the right to name a disease! Imagine the gravestone: here lies Jacob Freid, dead from The Crud. I took a lot of Mucinex and tried to stop coughing every two seconds and eventually I got back on that horse (horse being a metaphor for school). I fell off the horse because I texted my mom to come get me after four periods.
I was home for a few hours when I remembered I had rehearsal for End Days at the high school, and since I hadn't been at rehearsal thanks to family vacations and The Crud, I convinced my mom to drive me. That was when things got sticky. She wasn't happy about driving me but did it anyway. I brushed past Mr. Carter who wanted me to audition for The Hobbit since I hadn't been at school, but I had this other rehearsal NOW. I walked into the auditorium and got down to business. We rehearsed, and I coughed, and I coughed and we rehearsed. It felt good to be back on track, and at one point in the rehearsal, a slice of cake appeared on the stage. It was from Publix so you knew it was good, and I asked whose it was. Apparently Julia Schmidt brought it to rehearsal the day before. WHAT A FREAKING STROKE OF LUCK RIGHT????? WELL I BEGAN TO EAT BUT NO ONE SPOKE UP ABOUT THE FACT THAT IT WAS DUG OUT OF A TRASH CAN. Granted the box was closed and it was on top of a trash can BUT STILL!!! NO ONE WARNED ME, so when someone finally informed me of the cake's whereabouts for the past day, I spit the cake out and became borderline hysterical exclaiming, "I am a trash person," over and over. I gargled and washed all the cake out, but none of that will ever change the fact that I ate garbage cake and I am a trash person.
Although in my defense. it was chocolate.
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