Fur and Horns

Scene: I have four fur hats.
I'm wearing most of them. The combined degrees of the extended 10-day forecast for Hailey, Idaho add up to negative seven. I sent a screenshot of that weather forecast to my brother and he replied simply, "Don't die, please."
I zip past the back entryway and dumpster of A Taste of Thai as quickly as one can safely zip down an alley covered in ice. Zipping in an attempt to avoid any encore interactions starring myself in a dark, snowy alley and a giant bearded man popping out from the shadows of a dumpster and growling, "Are you finished?"
This evening, I am successful at slipping in unsolicited and stomp my boots smartly on the rug just inside the stage door.
I trot downstairs and survey the snack table. Impressive array, as always. I cram myself into my tights- working up only a minor sweat- and decide that intermission will be a fine time to have someone come in with their iPhone to photograph the baseball-sized bruise on my right hip. For posterity. And to show to my mother. And to remind me how cool it is that I get to walk around pretending to be Alice from "A League of Their Own" in the montage sequence where she bruised her hip sliding into third base.
Sound check. I've shimmied into my shiny purple bloomers, purple skirt, purple t-shirt, and tap shoes. I head upstairs. Where I find everyone else onstage clad in identical attire. We're like a troupe of shapely Grimaces. I attempt a couple of tap steps from a 2005 VA Rep production of "Anything Goes" and are therefore of no use to me at this time whatsoever. I try to keep my fingers off the shiny baby grand because my greasy fingerprints show up under the spotlight.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my fanny. Interesting.
"Oh my gosh," David gasps. "You aren't Aly!"
This case of mistaken fanny identity is entirely understandable. We are after all, dressed as identical eggplants. Calls to mind the question, though- was it the consistency of fanny which clued him in to its owner's identity or something else? I'll generally ask any question which is called to mind, so:
"David? Was it a difference in fanny texture which made you realize? Or something else?"
David states that glancing up and seeing my brown hair made him fully aware of his error. Which is great. If I'm going to be fanny twins with anyone, I'm honored to have that person be Aly Wepplo.
Sound check goes well. I sing some notes which are at no point featured in this production and we all head downstairs to pass my eyeliner around and apply our fake beauty marks.
Once the show starts, I spend a lot of time endeavoring to appear classy and composed and like I'm confident in my ability to walk down stairs in high heels. I salivate for the first tap number to arrive because I know once that happens, I'll be too busy whacking my toes against the floor to notice that my liver has frozen over. I sing a forty-five minute power ballad in pants and pretend I am Debra Wagoner. I remove said pants and play an evil waitress, a beleaguered housewife, and some chopsticks. Then Aly comes out with her saxophone and everything becomes fantastic.
You see, Aly has learned to play the baritone sax for this production. This is funny for several reasons. One- the saxophone is larger than she is. Two- she plays it to the tune of "The Good Ship Lollipop." Three- she plays it very well and no one in the audience is expecting that dainty little lass to nail a gritty sax solo about bon-bons on the Chesapeake Bay. Tonight though- especially good.
As Aly is winding up her number, she prepares to hit the big finale note- a low X-flat - and suddenly, from the dark of the audience, we hear a woman rapturously whisper, "It's beautiful!"
Now- it should be noted that Aly plays this solo exactly correctly. But it should also be noted that you can be to the baritone sax what Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was to the piano and it still will not change the fact that, at any level of executional finesse, the baritone saxophone sounds exactly like a water buffalo delivering a mini-fridge out the urethra. So- beautiful.
And that was just the top half of Act I.