#david merrick

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @rayatii

@ej-brunson @hoodwinked-honey

"Carnival"

Published on the New York Times April 9, 1961

Cartoon by Al Hirscheld of the original Brodway production cast of CARNIVAL

WITH PIERRE OLAF, JERRY ORBACH, ANNA MARIA ALBERGHETTI, KAYE BALLARD AND JAMES MITCHELL

(04/09/61)

[citizenscreen]

Birthday remembrance - producer David Merrick pictured with Ethel Merman and Anna Maria Alberghetti in 1961. #botd

[oldshowbiz]

1962.

CORE picketed the hit Broadway musicals Subways Are for Sleeping and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. 

Both took place in New York yet featured all white casts. 

Broadway producer David Merrick explained, "We auditioned Negroes, but couldn't find any that pleased us, any that got past the choreography director or any that had the right look and were the right size and type."

[papermoon4]

THE MARVELOUS MR. MERRICK

In the season 3 finale of Amazon’s THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL “A Jewish Girl Walked Into the Apollo” (S3;E8), set during spring or early summer of 1960, Midge’s father Abe (Tony Shalhoub) is walking through the Broadway theatre district when he is suddenly pelted with tomatoes by an unseen assailant. 

Before the attack, he is walking past the Imperial Theatre, where the musical DESTRY RIDES AGAIN is playing. The musical opened on April 23, 1959 and closed on June 18, 1960. It starred Dolores Gray and Andy Griffith, who had just taken some time away from the show to film a TV pilot for what would become “The Andy Griffith Show.”  

Although the scene is set in front of the Imperial, it was actually shot across the street in front of the Gerald Schoenfeld (above, today), known as the Plymouth Theatre in 1960.  

During the attack, Abe stands in front of three show posters. The one on the left is for the musical DO-RE-MI starring Phil Silvers, which gave us the song “Make Someone Happy.”  Here “Mrs. Maisel”’s timeline gets creative, as the musical didn’t open at the St. James Theatre till December 26, 1960.  

In the center, the theatre’s exit doors are covered in advertisements for the musical THE UNSINKABLE MOLLY BROWN starring Tammy Grimes, which opened at the Winter Garden on November 3, 1960.  

On the extreme right, and only partly visible on camera, is a poster for AN EVENING WITH MIKE NICHOLS AND ELAINE MAY at the Golden Theatre. This show opened on October 6, 1960. Although it is not impossible that a show’s advertising would appear so far in advance, it is unlikely. 

When Abe arrives home covered in bruises and tomato pulp, he proudly and excitedly tells his wife Rose (Marin Hinkle) that it was David Merrick who pelted him with tomatoes. 

The joke rings true for those who know of the infamous producer’s legendary temperament and headline-grabbing stunts. An unauthorized biography by Howard Kissel is titled David Merrick: The Abominable Showman. Not coincidentally, both DESTRY RIDES AGAIN and DO-RE-MI were both David Merrick productions!  It is only conjecture, but perhaps THE UNSINKABLE MOLLY BROWN was chosen as analogy to the indomitable spirit of Miriam Maisel herself.  It is also possible that comedienne Elaine May was one of the inspirations for the title character of the series, explaining the selection of the other poster. Either way, it is a vivid picture of the 1960 theatre season on Broadway!   

[borisaronson]

A famous moment in Broadway history: August 25, 1980, Winter Garden Theater: At the opening night curtain call for the smash hit "42nd Street," producer David Merrick announces to the audience and cast that the show's director-choreographer Gower Champion had died earlier that day.  Following the TV news feature, you'll find original "42nd Street" leading man Jerry Orbach in the show's finale, live in 1981.

[papermoonloveslucy]

GINGER ROGERS COMES TO TEA

S4;E11 ~ November 22, 1971

Directed by Coby Ruskin ~ Written by Bob Carroll Jr. and Madelyn Davis

Synopsis

Ginger Rogers leaves her purse in a movie theatre where she's gone incognito to see one of her films for the first time. Lucy and Harry discover the purse and hope to get to meet the star in person by inviting her to tea.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter)  

Guest Cast

Ginger Rogers (Herself) was born Virginia Katherine McMath in Independence, Missouri on July 16, 1911, just one month before Lucille Ball.  As a singing and dancing actor, Rogers was mainly know for her partnership with fellow singer / dancer Fred Astaire in ten films. It was said that “Ginger did everything that Fred did, except backwards – and in heels!” During the 1930's Lucille Ball did five films with Rogers, whom she considered a mentor.  By the 1970s Rogers had entered semi-retirement.  Lucie Arnaz has said that Rogers may have been a distant cousin of Lucille Ball's.  She won an Oscar in 1940 for Kitty Foyle, a rare dramatic role. Rogers died in 1995.  

William Lanteau (Spike, Ginger Rogers' Secretary) first appeared with Lucille Ball in The Facts of Life (1960). In addition to an episode of “The Lucy Show,” Lanteau did four episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”  He is best remembered for playing Charlie the Mailman in the play and the film On Golden Pond (1981).

Lanteau wears a toupee and eyeglasses for the role. 

Shirley Anthony (Theatre Patron, uncredited) makes her second screen appearance and the first of her 13 episodes of “Here's Lucy.”  

Anthony is sitting in the first row on the far left.  

Joan Carey (Theatre Patron, uncredited) is one of the few performers to appear on “I Love Lucy,” “The Lucy Show”, and “Here’s Lucy.” She also served as Lucille Ball’s camera and lighting stand-in. 

Carey is sitting in the first row on the left aisle. 

Bob Harks (Theatre Patron, uncredited) Extra, stand-in, and double Bob Harks was born on September 20, 1927. Harks appeared in his first film in 1968 and was seen in the background of Mame (1974). In 1970 he popped up on his first television show and was seen in more than a dozen episodes of “Here's Lucy.” He died at age 83 in 2010.

Harks is sitting in the third row on the second seat from the right aisle. 

Eugene Jackson (Theatre Patron, uncredited) gained fame as Farina’s older brother, Pineapple, in six of Hal Roach’s “Our Gang” serials (1924-25). He appeared with Lucille Ball in the 1963 film Critic’s Choice as well as an episode of “The Lucy Show.”  He was seen in a previous episode of “Here’s Lucy” guest-starring Sammy Davis Jr.

Jackson is sitting in the last row on the right, third seat from the aisle. 

Victor Romito (Theatre Patron, uncredited) was seen as the Bartender in “Lucy Meets John Wayne” (TLS S5;E10). He also appeared in four episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”  Romito was an extra in the 1960 Lucille Ball / Bob Hope film Critic’s Choice.

Romito is sitting in the third row on the left aisle. 

The other Theatre Patrons are played by uncredited background performers.

This episode was filmed without an audience due to an imminent actor strike. As a result, the canned laugh track is noticeably missing Gary Morton's usual loud guffaws. The episode was filmed in mid-July 1971 with only two days of rehearsal as Lucille Ball wanted to make sure it was completed before the strike. The strike was averted when the Actors Guild signed a three-year contract on July 14, 1971.

During the 1930s, newcomer Lucille Ball was coached by Ginger Rogers' mother, Lela, at the little theatre on the RKO lot. Inspired by this Lucy also mentored young actors at a little theatre when she bought the studio for Desilu.

At the start of the episode, Harry is looking to hire party staff for an (unseen) client named Mrs. Metcalf.  Metcalf was the surname given to the Fire Department Captain played by Patrick McVey in “Lucy and Viv are Volunteer Firemen” (TLS S1;E16), also written by Madelyn Davis and Bob Carroll Jr. 

Instead of working late, Lucy tells Harry that she wants to go to a Ginger Rogers Film Festival. They are showing Tender Comrade (1943) and Flying Down To Rio (1933), two films made at RKO, which eventually became Desilu.  

Lucy claims to be Ginger Rogers' biggest fan alive, seeing every picture she's ever made, some of them several times. This is a claim made by Lucy Carter about most celebrities, as well as by Lucy Ricardo and Lucy Carmichael.

In the office, Harry and Lucy improvise singing and dancing to “Cheek to Cheek” a song written by Irving Berlin in 1935 for the Fred Astaire / Ginger Rogers movie Top Hat.

Trying to impugn the taste in films of the mystery woman (a disguised Ginger Rogers), Lucy tells her to try back next week and they might be showing Beach Blanket Bingo.  This was the fourth of the light comic films set on the California beach starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello.  It was released in 1965. Two years later, Avalon appeared (not as himself) in “Lucy and the Starmaker” (TLS S6;E4).  He will also play himself on “Here’s Lucy” in 1973.  

According to the hotel key in her purse, Ginger Rogers is staying at the Bel-Air Hotel.  This is probably meant to be the Hotel Bel-Air, located just outside Beverly Hills and Westwood. Hotel Bel-Air has regularly housed celebrities including Robert Wagner, Judy Garland, Bette Davis, Lauren Bacall, Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Jimmy Stewart, Audrey Hepburn, and Grace Kelly, who frequented the hotel so regularly she had a suite named after her. 

Rogers tells Lucy she has done 73 movies. Rattling off some of Rogers' hits, Lucy adds a sugar cube to Ginger's tea for each title: Top Hat, Roberta, Flying Down To Rio, Follow the Fleet, Shall We Dance, and The Barkleys of Broadway. When Lucy realizes she's put six lumps of sugar in Ginger's tea, Rogers says she only wanted Top Hat and Roberta (two lumps).  

Rogers mentions having a meeting with David Merrick to discuss starring in his new musical. In August 1966 Rogers had taken over the role of Dolly Levi in Hello, Dolly! on Broadway produced by David Merrick.  

When Kim returns with photos of Ginger Rogers for the star to sign, she accidentally grabbed a photo of Lassie. Canine star Lassie was the hero of both movies and television. Lassie was first mentioned by Lucy Ricardo in “The Young Fans” (ILL S1;E20) twenty years earlier.  The dog made an appearance in “The Desilu Revue” in 1959. 

Kim, Lucy and Ginger Rogers all dance the Charleston in this episode. Lucy reminds Rogers that she was the Texas State Charleston champion.  A portion of the dance routine was originally choreographed for Lucie Arnaz by Jim Bates on “The Kraft Music Hall” which aired on NBC on February 4, 1970.  It also starred Desi Sr. and Jr. (above).  Bates had taken over for choreographer Jack Baker on “Here's Lucy.”    

After dancing the Charleston with Lucy and Kim, Lucy asks Rogers to do a scene from Kitty Foyle, Ginger’s Oscar-winning role.  Rogers graciously declines, asking Lucy to become a Katherine Hepburn fan instead!

In “The Dancing Star” (ILL S4;E27) Lucy Ricardo got to dance with another one of her idols, Van Johnson.  Johnson and Ginger Rogers had starred together in 1945's Week-End at the Waldorf.  Irving Bacon (who played Ethel’s father, Will Potter) was also in the MGM film.

I Had A Dream!  The passage of time while the theatre patrons are watching Flying Down To Rio is marked by the use of a wavy screen and harp glissando, techniques that usually indicate a dream sequence, not the mere passage of time.

Where Do I Live? Lucy gives her home address as 4863 Valley Lawn Drive. Both Harry and Lucy have given this address as their own in previous episodes.

"Ginger Rogers Comes to Tea” rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

Ginger Rogers shows just what a good actress she was here, despite just two days rehearsal.  Not having a studio audience didn’t bother Ginger, who was at home on a closed set.  William Lanteau (Spike) creates an interesting secretary character - borderline gay but never over-the-top (except for that bad toupee).  Although many might site the dance sequence with Lucy and Lucie as the highlight, I prefer watching Ginger Rogers the actress - especially in her disguise at the film festival!  

[ariel-seagull-wings]

Je me donn'rai à toi puisque tu m'aimes tant (I'll surrender to you since you love me so much)

@themousefromfantasyland @hoodwinked-honey @the-blue-fairie @thealmightyemprex @mikeellee @tamisdava2 @maimoncat @meadow-mellow @ej-brunson @professorlehnsherr-almashy

@jennyfair7

@shelleythesoft

@selphiealmasy8

The instruments representing the personality of each puppet are the idea of my friend @rayatii who noticed that in the dream ballet of the film Lili (the basis for Carnival!), Carrot Top is represented by a flute, Marguerite by a clarinet, Renardo by a bassoon and Henry by a Tuba, and she interpreted it as simbolizing Lili's descent from land of dreams and fairytales back to earth and reality.

The Jewel Aria (Ah! Je ris de me voir si Belle) from Gounod's Faust: Maria Callas - Air des bijoux - Jewel song - Faust Gounod

Derrière che ma tante, French children's song that Lili and Paul (portraying Renardo the Fox) perform as a duet: Derrière chez ma tante - French Children's Songs - France - Mama Lisa's World: Children's Songs and Rhymes from Around the World

Cover Art bymy friend @theancientvaleofsoulmaking (also known as @professorlehnsherr-almashy)

Carrot Top: Flute

~oOoOo~

One of the games barked in the Carnival's Midway was the Fishing game: a blue curtain ranging over tight ropes, decorated with colorful papercuts shaped like little fishes, behind of which were prizes the people would pay for three chances to try catching, with the hook hanging of a bamboo and twine fishing pole, a prize toy.

Amongst the people tring to fish a prize was Lili, enjoying her performer's payment during the free time she didn't have to rehearse.

The game brought to her comforting childhood memories: she saw herself by a river bench, sitting by her father's side, while he helped her hold the fishing pole to catch trouts.

She threw the line one time, pulled… and nothing came.

"Don't give up, Lili."

"But, Papa…"

"I also found it difficult when I was your age. Fishing requires patience, petite."

She threw the line a second time, and… again, no fish.

"The fishes aren't going anywhere, Lili. You can try again, and again, and again, until the trout finally bites!"

Lili closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened her eyes again, and threw the twine line for the third time.

Something had bitten the hook… She pulled, slowly…

In the hook, came a cord, witch carried a little whistle: her prize was a Handcrafted Horn Whistle, painted in black and with a leather cord to wear like a necklace.

"And the mademoiselle has won a whistle!"

Cried the barker, while Lili jumped with joy, giggling.

She removed the whistle from the hook, put the chord around her neck, hiding the whistle behind her blouse, and gave back the fishing pole to the barker, saying:

"Thank, monsieur!"

"Thank YOU, mademoiselle!"

Lili turned and opened her little watch… and gasped.

She needed to run, for the show was about to begin!

When Lili arrived at the puppet booth, she was sweating and huffing.

The Angry Man was waiting by the booth… and she had the impression that his frown was even lower than usual.

"I… I'm sorry! I ran as fast as I could!"

"We'll talk later."

He cut her off quickly with a rough tone, before pointing the front of the both with his thumb.

"Now go to your place."

"Yes, Monsieur Paul."

Lili lowered her head, and walked to her place in front of the booth.

She cleaned the sweat in her forehead with the back of her hand, while the caliope and concertina started playing, to mark the beggining of the evening's show.

Slowly, from behind the dark curtain came the jolly and energetic Carrot Top.

"Lili! Thank goodness, I thought something happened to you."

"But what could happen, Carrot Top?"

Asked Lili in middle of recovering her breath, trying to cheer herself up.

The audience was giggling with this improvised exchange.

"You took so long to come back, I imagined you got lost on the way… or worse, that you've been abducted! I was about to grab my slingshot and hunt for the bandit who took you!"

The puppet shaked, exasperated. Lili felt the need to caress his red hair, now smiling, touched by his concern for her:

"I was here in the carnival the whole time. The reason I took long to return was because I was in the Fishing booth, trying to get a gift for you."

"A gift?! Oh Lili, but you don't need to…"

"Of course I needed to, you're the first friend I made here, so I owed you a gift. And you'll be happy to see what I won…"

Her tone of voice was now teasing secrecy, a bit more relaxed. She lowed hersef down a bit, and slowly pulled the whistle cord from behind her blouse.

When Lili had fully revealed the whistle, she put it around Carrot Top's neck, who exclaimed with a excitedly joyfull falsetto:

"A whistle! I love it!"

"You mentioned in the last show how much you liked Whistles to blow…"

"As I dance down the street! Oh Lili Dear, you've payed attention!"

"I always pay attention to what you, Henry, Renardo and Marguerite say. Because I care for you, as much as you care for me."

"Oh... But, do you know what is the best gift I ever got?"

"No, what was it?"

"Having met you."

"Awwww, and you are a precious gift to my life as well…"

Lili sighed, while coming closer to exchange a hug with Carrot Top, which made the audience sigh along as well, deeply touched.

~oOoOo~

Marguerite: Clarinet

~oOoOo~

The next evening, Lili arrived before the audience started to gather in their booth, her breath normal, and no drop sweat in her forehead.

Lili, unaware of the storm of affection brewing in Paul’s chest — a love as fierce and silent as his resentment of his own disability — stood before the booth, waiting for her cue.

She was to be the "straight man," the human interface for Paul’s puppetry, a role she had stumbled into and now cherished.

The afternoon sun slanted through the tent flaps, illuminating the motes of dust that danced like fairies in the beam.

The audience, a mix of farmers and curious children, settled onto the wooden benches.

Paul, hidden behind the painted backdrop of a French garden, adjusted his fingers into the stiff leather of the Marguerite puppet.

"Places, Lili," Paul’s voice rasped from the darkness. It was a voice stripped of warmth, a voice that seemed to scrape against the soul.

Lili stepped into the light, her simple cotton dress a stark contrast to the gaudy velvet of the booth. She smiled, a genuine, guileless expression that made Paul’s heart ache with a painful, possessive longing.

The curtain rose on the miniature stage. Marguerite, a lace-collared beauty with painted cheeks and a haughty tilt to her chin, swept into view.

"Ah, the peasants," Marguerite’s voice squeaked, high and imperious, a perfect caricature of aristocracy.

"Gawking at greatness. Tell me, girl, have you seen my reflection? The mirror lies, but I know the truth."

Lili, playing along, leaned closer to the miniature proscenium.

"You look lovely today, Marguerite!"

"Lovely?" Marguerite scoffed, her cloth body stiffening.

"Lovely is for milkmaids. I am… resplendent." She paused, her button eyes fixing on Lili.

"But you, child. You look as though you’ve never seen a jewel in your life. Pale as a ghost. It is unseemly."

From the darkness behind the curtain, Paul watched Lili’s face.

He saw the flicker of insecurity there, the shadow of the orphan who owned nothing, not even a mirror of her own.

His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had to warn her.

He had to show her the danger of false beauty, the peril of the magic that men like Marco the Magnificent wielded.

Paul shifted his weight, his bad leg throbbing with a dull, familiar ache.

He reached into the prop box beside him and pulled out a small, glittering skein of wool — silver thread spun with a fiber that caught the light.

He slipped it into Marguerite’s wooden hand.

"Look closer, child," Marguerite’s voice dropped an octave, losing some of its shrillness, gaining a strange, haunting wisdom.

"Do you know the story of a girl much like yourself? A girl named Marguerite?"

Lili blinked, her improvisational instincts momentarily frozen. This was new. Paul rarely deviated from the script of slapstick and puns.

"No, Marguerite. I don’t."

"She was a simple girl," Marguerite continued, the puppet’s head tilting as if studying the thread of silver wool.

"Pure. Innocent. Until she found a box on her doorstep. A box filled with jewels conjured by the Devil himself."

Paul manipulated the puppet’s mouth, his fingers trembling.

He began to hum, a low, resonant sound that vibrated through the wooden booth.

"Jewels," Marguerite whispered, the silver wool glinting in the stage lights.

"They are a spell, child. They change you. They make you see a queen where there is only a girl."

The puppet lifted the wool to where a face would be, miming the act of draping a necklace.

"Listen to the song of the mirror."

Paul began to sing in Marguerite's falsetto. 

He wasn't just performing; he was projecting his own fears, his own desperate hope that Lili would see past the glitter of Marco’s tricks.

"Ah! je ris de me voir / si belle en ce miroir," Paul sang, his voice trembling with a strange, beautiful intensity.

Marguerite mimed holding a mirror, her wooden head cocked in feigned surprise.

"Ah! je ris de me voir / si belle en ce miroir," he repeated.

Lili stood transfixed.

"Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?" Paul sang, his voice pitching higher, mimicking the coloratura soprano role with a haunting, vulnerability. 

"Réponds-moi, réponds-moi, / Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!"

Marguerite dropped the wool and clutched her wooden chest, spinning in a circle.

"Non! Non! ce n'est plus toi! / Non...non, ce n'est plus ton visage;" Paul’s voice grew urgent, a warning wrapped in melody. 

"C’est la fille d’un roi; / Ce n’est plus toi, / C’est la fille d’un roi."

Lili’s breath hitched. The daughter of a king.

Paul was singing about a girl who looked in the mirror and saw a stranger—a girl enchanted by gold and gems, blind to the trap closing around her.

"Qu’on salut au passage! / Ah, s’il était ici! / S’il me voyait ainsi!" Paul sang, the waltz rhythm swelling, the silver wool shimmering as Marguerite danced. 

"Comme une demoiselle / Il me trouverait belle, Ah!"

The puppet Marguerite preened, but there was a sadness in her wooden rigidity. She was playing the part of the seduced, the corrupted.

"Achevons la métamorphose, / Il me tarde encor d’essayer / Le bracelet et le collier!" 

Paul’s voice soared, filling the tent.

"Dieu! c’est comme une main, / Qui sur mon bras se pose! ah! ah!"

Marguerite jerked as if struck, the silver wool wrapping around her arm. She looked trapped.

"Ah! je ris / de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!" 

Paul finished the aria, the final note hanging in the air, vibrating with a tragic beauty.

The audience, a mix of confused farmers and enchanted children, burst into applause.

Lili stood frozen, her hands clasped to her chest, tears welling in her eyes.

The curtain fell.

The booth was plunged into the dim light of the backstage area.

Lili remained standing outside, the applause fading into the background noise of the carnival.

A moment later, the side flap of the booth opened.

Paul emerged, his swarthy face pale and slick with sweat.

He looked exhausted, exposed.

He expected her to laugh, to make a biting remark, or simply shrug with indifference.

Instead, Lili stepped forward.

The space between them was charged with the lingering echo of the music.

"That was..." Lili started, her voice trembling, barely a whisper.

She stepped closer to him, the space between them charged with the lingering echo of the song. 

"That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard."

Paul looked away, his jaw tightening.

He reached down and picked up the silver skein of wool from the floor where Marguerite had dropped it.

He held it out to Lili, his hand shaking slightly.

"It’s just glass beads and thread," he muttered, his voice rough, trying to retreat behind his wall of cynicism.

"It tricks the eye. Makes you think you’re looking at a diamond when it’s just paste."

Lili took the wool.

It was cold and heavy in her hands. She looked from the thread to Paul’s face, seeing the pain etched there, the longing he tried so hard to hide.

"And the song?" she asked softly.

"Was that paste, too?"

Paul met her gaze.

For the first time, he didn't look away.

The bitterness in his eyes softened, replaced by a raw, terrifying honesty.

"No," he admitted, his voice cracking.

"The song was real."

Paul stopped.

He looked up, his dark eyes flashing with a sudden, intense fire.

"It was an aria about a foolish girl enchanted by trinkets," he snapped, his voice harsh.

"Marguerite was a simple girl, dazzled by gold and glass. She thought it made her a princess. It made her a target."

Lili flinched at his tone.

"But the way you sang it... it sounded sad."

"It’s a tragedy, Lili," Paul said, turning his back to her to lift a heavy trunk.

"She loses everything. Her virtue, her child, her mind. All because she looked in the mirror and liked what she saw a little too much. Because she believed in easy magic."

"Monsieur Paul..." she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He recoiled as if burned and shoved past her, limping heavily toward the exit of the booth.

Lili was left alone in the dim light, holding the silver wool ...

She stared at it, the echo of the aria — C’est la fille d’un roi — ringing in her ears.

~oOoOo~

Renardo: Bassoon

~oOoOo~

Lili stood center stage, her face flushed with the thrill of performance: Renardo the Fox was the puppet at play. 

Renardo bowed, his painted eyes gleaming with mischief. Paul’s voice, modulated to a sly, nasal baritone filtered through the velvet.

“And a fine day to test your wit, Mademoiselle. Let us see if you can guess this:

What is at the beginning of the Road,

Lives at the edge of the Air,

Bends in the middle of the Earth

Dies where the Water ends?”

Lili tapped her chin, feigning deep thought, though she knew the answer well. They had rehearsed this, yet the spontaneity of the moment made it feel new. “The Letter R!” she declared triumphantly.

“Sharp as a tack,” Renardo sneered, though the audience laughed. “But try this. Grabs, Scratches And Throws Writes, Paints And Invents Squeezes, Points And Punches Caresses And Greets?”

“The Hand!” Lili cried, holding up her own slender fingers.

The audience murmured their approval. Behind the curtain, Paul felt a strange pang. He watched Lili’s hand, pale against the dim light, and thought of the hands that had crafted the puppets, the hands that fought in the war, the hands that ached to reach out and touch her without the barrier of felt.

The game continued, a rapid-fire exchange of wit and whimsy.

Lili answered the riddles with a confidence that belied her vulnerability and shyness.

“What gets stronger the older it gets?”

“Wine!” she laughed.

“How many stars are there in the sky?” Renardo asked.

“There are exactly as many stars in the sky as there is fur over your body,” Lili recited, her eyes sparkling. “If you doubt it, count each star and, at the same time, pull out the strands of your fur one by one.”

“Very good,” Paul’s voice rasped. He shifted his fingers, making the fox scratch his chin.

“Now for a harder one. The brother is white, the sister is black. Every morning the brother kills the sister. Every evening, the sister kills the brother. And the two never die.”

Lili paused. The silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of the lantern. “The brother is the Sun,” she said slowly, “and the sister is the Moon.”

A ripple of applause. Paul felt a surge of pride that was quickly dampened by his usual cynicism. She is just a child, he told himself. She doesn’t understand the darkness of the sun killing the day, or the coldness of the moon killing the night.

“What is greater than God, worse than the devil, that if a living person eats,  dies, and that’s what dead people eat?”

Renardo pressed, his voice dropping an octave.

“Nothing!” Lili beamed.

“Where is the place everyone goes to but no one wants to go?”

“The graveyard!”

The answers came like a heartbeat, steady and sure. But then, the rhythm changed. The air in the booth grew heavier, charged with a static that had nothing to do with the riddles and everything to do with the man behind the curtain.

Renardo leaned forward, his felt head tilting. The audience leaned in too, captivated by the dynamic between the girl and the fox.

“And the last one, Lili,” Paul said, forgetting for a moment to use the puppet’s voice, his own rough timbre bleeding through. He caught himself, coughing, and slipped back into the sly cadence of the fox. “What is a gift that is not a gift?”

Lili hesitated. She looked at the fox, but she felt as though she were looking through the velvet, searching for Paul. She thought of the things she had lost, the things that couldn't be held. “A kiss,” she whispered.

The word hung in the air, fragile and heavy.

Renardo nodded slowly. The fox’s painted smile seemed to soften. “A kiss... indeed. A thing given, yet kept. A moment that lives only in the memory.” The puppet looked at her, its button eyes reflecting the firelight. “Then... may I? Can I kiss you in the eyes?”

The question was absurd—a fox asking to kiss a girl—but in the magic of the booth, it was the most real thing in the world. It was Paul, reaching across the void.

Lili’s breath hitched. A blush rose from her neck to her cheeks, a deep, warm rose against her pale skin. She knew the mechanics of the act; she knew the fox was a glove.

Slowly, she leaned forward, closing her eyes. 

Renardo rose: Paul extended his arm as far as the booth allowed, the fox’s snout approaching Lili’s face. 

The soft, worn fur of the fox’s muzzle brushed against Lili’s closed eyelids. It was a touch both tender and innocent, yet charged with a sensuality that made the audience hold their breath. Paul lingered there, the fabric of his creation grazing the skin of his beloved. He wanted to kiss her himself, to feel the warmth of her lashes against his lips, but he remained hidden, letting the fox be his proxy.

Lili shivered. The sensation was electric, a ghost of a kiss that sent a thrill through her entire body. It was a promise and a rejection all at once.

Renardo pulled back. The moment passed, leaving an ache in the air.

Then, to cover the intensity of the silence, Paul began to sing. His voice, no longer the fox’s sneer but his own baritone, rich and melancholic, filled the booth. Lili, still flushed, opened her eyes and joined him. It was a children’s folk song, a duet of chase and surrender, but sung in the dim light of the booth, it became an anthem of their tangled hearts.

“Derrière chez ma tante, il y a un étang,” Paul sang, his voice weaving through the velvet. (Behind my aunt's house, there's a pond,)

“Derrière chez ma tante, il y a un étang,” Lili echoed, her soprano light and airy. (Behind my aunt's house, there's a pond,)

“Je me ferai anguille, anguille dans l'étang,” Paul crooned, the fox swaying gently. (I'll become an eel, an eel in the pond,)

“Je me ferai anguille, anguille dans l'étang,” Lili repeated, her hands clasped. (I'll become an eel, an eel in the pond.)

“Si tu te fais anguille, anguille dans l'étang,” Paul sang, a note of pursuit in his tone. (If you become an eel, an eel in the pond,)

“Si tu te fais anguille, anguille dans l'étang,” Lili responded, her voice dancing. (If you become an eel, an eel in the pond,)

“Je me ferai pêcheur, je t'aurai en pêchant,” Paul vowed. (I'll become a fisherman, I'll get you by fishing,)

“Je me ferai pêcheur, je t'aurai en pêchant,” Lili sang, a smile touching her lips. (I'll become a fisherman, I'll get you by fishing.)

“Si tu te fais pêcheur pour m'avoir en pêchant,” Lili sang, taking the lead. (If you become a fisherman to get me by fishing,)

“Si tu te fais pêcheur pour m'avoir en pêchant,” Paul harmonized, his voice thick with emotion. (If you become a fisherman to get me by fishing,)

“Je me ferai alouette, alouette dans les champs,” Lili trilled, like a bird taking flight. (I'll become a lark, a lark in the fields,)

“Je me ferai alouette, alouette dans les champs,” Paul repeated, the chase continuing. (I'll become a lark, a lark in the fields.)

“Si tu te fais alouette, alouette dans les champs,” Paul sang, his voice deepening. (If you become a lark, a lark in the fields,)

“Si tu te fais alouette, alouette dans les champs,” Lili echoed, her voice trembling slightly. (If you become a lark, a lark in the fields,)

“Je me ferai chasseur, je t'aurai en chassant,” Paul declared, the hunter claiming his prey. (I'll become a hunter, I'll get you by hunting,)

“Je me ferai chasseur, je t'aurai en chassant,” Lili sang, the inevitability of the catch in her tone. (I'll become a hunter, I'll get you by hunting.)

“Si tu te fais chasseur pour m'avoir en chassant,” Lili sang, her voice softening into submission. (If you become a hunter to get me by hunting,)

“Si tu te fais chasseur pour m'avoir en chassant,” Paul repeated, the net closing in. (If you become a hunter to get me by hunting,)

“Je me ferai nonnette, nonnette dans un couvent,” Lili vowed, retreating to safety. (I'll become a nun, a nun in a convent,)

“Je me ferai nonnette, nonnette dans un couvent,” Paul sang, accepting the challenge. (I'll become a nun, a nun in a convent.)

“Si tu te fais nonnette, nonnette dans un couvent,” Paul sang, his voice a low murmur. (If you become a nun, a nun in a convent,)

“Si tu te fais nonnette, nonnette dans un couvent,” Lili whispered, the walls of the convent crumbling. (If you become a nun, a nun in a convent,)

“Je me ferai prêcheur, je t'aurai en prêchant,” Paul promised, the preacher winning the soul. (I'll become a preacher, I'll get you by preaching,)

“Je me ferai prêcheur, je t'aurai en prêchant,” Lili sang, surrendering to the sermon. (I'll become a preacher, I'll get you by preaching.)

“Si tu te fais prêcheur pour m'avoir en prêchant,” Lili sang, her voice breaking with the weight of the words. (If you become a preacher to get me by preaching,)

“Si tu te fais prêcheur pour m'avoir en prêchant,” Paul repeated, the final verse approaching. (If you become a preacher to get me by preaching,)

“Je me donn'rai à toi puisque tu m'aimes tant,” Lili concluded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. (I'll surrender to you since you love me so much,)

“Je me donn'rai à toi puisque tu m'aimes tant,” Paul finished, his voice fading into silence. (I'll surrender to you since you love me so much.)

~oOoOo~

Horrible Henry: Tuba

~oOoOo~

Henry’s head lolled, his mouth opening in a slow, drunken yawn.

"My arm is floppy…" Henry grumbled.

"I’m like a puppet!"

The small crowd, a mix of farmers and weary factory workers, chuckled.

They recognized the sentiment.

"How many drinks did you have?" Lili asked, playing the straight man to Henry’s fool.

Henry swayed, his glass eyes glazing over.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Have you ever thought about penguins?" Lili pressed, leaning closer to the edge of the stage.

"I think we should think more about penguins. They are dignified. They wear suits."

Henry squinted at the moon hanging low in the sky above the meadow — a pale, silver coin.

"You look almost as pretty as this moon."

Lili smiled, glancing up.

"That’s a street lamp, Henry."

The walrus paused, processing this with theatrical gravity. "And you’re almost as pretty."

The audience was divided.

The older women clutched their shawls, feeling a pang of compassion for the lonely beast.

The younger men laughed, fueled by the cheap wine circulating in the crowd.

Lili felt an ache in her chest.

"Here, Henry. Drink this. It will cure the fog in your head."

She tipped the cup.

It was empty, a scenic prop, but Henry drank it with exaggerated gulps, his throat bobbing.

As he finished, he shook his head, his whiskers trembling, and sat up straighter, the coffee having done its magic.

"Now," Lili said, setting the cup aside and bringing out her basket of smooth, grey river stones, gouache and small brushes.

"Let us paint. It's better than drinking."

She dipped a brush in ink and started to paint a ladybug on a stone.

"When I was a child, before the world turned upside down, I would catch ladybugs in the woods, so they would protect our garden from the plagues."

Henry watched her, his movements becoming less sluggish, more attentive.

Paul’s hand inside the puppet worked with a surgeon's precision.

The walrus reached out a clumsy flipper, taking a brush.

He dipped it into yellow paint and carefully, surprisingly, painted a five-pointed star on his own stone.

"Sea stars," Henry murmured.

"On the coast. They were yellow like the sun."

Lili looked at the puppet, but she was seeing the man behind the fur.

She saw the dancer who had lost his grace, the soldier who had lost his peace.

"That's beautiful, Henry..." she said softly.

They exchanged the stones.

Lili took the star; Henry took the ladybug.

It was a silent pact, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

"Take them," Lili said to the audience, holding up her basket.

"Paint your own stones. Paint what you lost. Paint what you hope to find."

The applause was warm, a ripple of gratitude in the cool night air.

~oOoOo~

Epilogue: A room in a small inn...

~oOoOo~

Inside the small room, the world had shrunk to the dimensions of a warm, amber-lit sanctuary.

The walls were rough-hewn stone, the ceiling low with exposed oak beams, and the furniture was simple, functional wood that smelled faintly of beeswax and time.

Paul  lay atop Lili, his body a long, angular frame that seemed to fold around her smaller form.

For a long moment, neither moved.

They remained joined, suspended in the heavy, humid silence that follows the peak of shared pleasure.

Paul’s weight was a comforting anchor, pressing her into the straw-stuffed mattress.

Lili’s hazel eyes, usually wide and darting with the quick, nervous energy of a sparrow, were half-lidded, heavy with a contentment she had rarely known.

She ran her hands down the length of his back, tracing the knobs of his spine and the taut muscles that corded his shoulders.

His skin was fever-warm and slick with a fine sheen of sweat.

Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the tension that usually lived there finally dissolving.

He was heavy, but it was a pleasant heaviness, the weight of a man who had finally set down an invisible burden.

Paul shifted slightly, his hips pressing a final, gentle reminder of their union against hers.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin — sweat, rosemary and sicilian lemon.

He kissed the pulse point beneath her jaw, feeling the frantic rhythm there slow to match the steady thrum of his own heart.

"Paul," she whispered, her voice a breathless exhalation against his ear.

He didn't speak.

Instead, he nuzzled her, his rough cheek brushing against her smooth one, a gesture of pure animal affection.

Slowly and reluctantly, Paul withdrew.

The cool air rushed into the space between their bodies, raising goosebumps on Lili’s skin.

Paul rolled off her, the mattress groaning in protest as his weight shifted.

He lay on his back for a moment, staring up at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in deep, rhythmic waves.

Lili turned her head on the pillow to watch him.

His dark hair was tousled, falling over his forehead, and eyes were closed.

She reached out, her fingers lightly grazing the ridge of his collarbone.

Paul opened his eyes and turned to look at her.

A small, rare smile touched the corners of his mouth. He lifted a hand and brushed a stray lock of brown hair from her forehead.

His fingers were long and rough, yet his touch was impossibly warm and gentle.

He sat up then, the movement fluid despite the stiffness in his right leg.

The chill of the room hit his bare skin, and he shivered slightly.

Paul swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet finding the cold wooden floorboards.

He stood, a tall, naked silhouette against the heavy velvet curtains that covered the window.

Lili pulled the thick woolen blanket up to her chin, watching him.

He walked to the window, his gait slightly uneven — a subtle hitch in the right step that betrayed the injured knee.

Lili watched him, her heart swelling with a fierce, protective tenderness. 

"Come back to bed," she murmured, her voice cutting through the rush of the wind.

Paul turned, the moonlight catching the sharp planes of his face.

He looked at her, a small, fragile thing buried in the furs, her hazel eyes luminous in the gloom.

He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment.

But first, nature called.

The urgency of their lovemaking had been replaced by a more mundane need.

Paul limped across the room to the corner where the chamber pot sat beneath a small wooden washstand.

Lili watched him, a small smile playing on her lips. The contrast was stark and amusing.

Just moments ago, they had been caught in a storm of passion, a tangle of limbs and breathless cries that felt as primal as the earth itself.

Now, the reality of their existence intruded with a clatter of porcelain.

"Better than the wagon," she whispered, her voice laced with humor.

Paul paused, pot in hand, and let out a short, dry chuckle—a sound as rare as his smile.

"God, yes," he rasped.

The memory of the carnival wagon was vivid for both of them.

For weeks, they had lived in the cramped, rattling confines of his traveling wagon, the air thick with the smell of greasepaint, sawdust, and the cheap wine they sold to the crowds.

There, privacy was a myth.

The toilet had been a bucket behind a canvas screen, used with the constant awareness of the audience just feet away, the noise of the calliope drowning out any dignity.

Here, in the inn, the simple act of using the plumbing felt like a luxury.

The ceramic was cool and solid, the water in the pitcher clear and cold.

It was a small reminder of the civilization they had left behind in the cities, a quiet assertion of their right to be ordinary.

Paul finished and washed his hands, splashing water on his face.

He looked at his reflection in the small, spotted mirror.

The man staring back was tired, but the harsh lines of bitterness around his mouth had softened. Paul dried his hands on a rough linen towel and returned to the bed.

He didn't get in immediately.

Instead, he stood by the bedside and reached for the small wooden box on the nightstand.

Inside lay the four hand puppets:They were his voice, his translators.

When words failed him, Paul let the puppets speak.

Then he closed the lid.

Tonight, he didn't need them.

Tonight, he could speak for hihimself.

Paul slid back under the covers.

The mattress dipped under his weight.

Lili immediately gravitated toward him, seeking his warmth.

She shifted, draping her leg over his, and rested her head on his chest, right over his heart.

Paul settled back against the pillows, his arm coming around her, his hand finding the crown of her head.

He began to stroke her hair, his fingers threading through the soft, brown strands in a slow, rhythmic motion.

Then, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there, breathing her in.

The room was quiet now, save for the wind rattling the windowpane and the rhythmic, wet sound of their breathing.

Lili closed her eyes, listening to the thud-thud, thud-thud beneath her ear.

It was a steady, strong rhythm, a drumbeat of life that anchored her.

She traced the line of his sternum with her fingertip.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his skin.

Paul’s hand paused in her hair for a fraction of a second before resuming its soothing stroke.

He remembered.

It was in a muddy field...

The carnival tents flapping in a gale.

He had been performing his puppet show to a sparse, weary crowd of farmers and displaced persons.

He had been angry that day, shouting at the world.

"I remember," he whispered, his voice vibrating through his chest into hers.

"You were so angry," she said, smiling against his chest.

"You looked like you wanted to throw the puppets into the river."

"I wanted to throw myself in," he admitted. The confession was easy in the dark.

"My leg... it was throbbing that day. The rain makes it worse. And the career... it was gone. Everything I had worked for since I was a boy."

Lili lifted her head, propping her chin on his chest to look at him.

Her hazel eyes searched his blue ones.

"And now?"

Paul looked at her.

The lamplight caught the moisture in her eyes.

He thought of the last three days.

Leaving the noise of the carnival behind. 

Walking into this inn, the innkeeper looked at their two suitcases with a raised eyebrow, but Lili had charmed him with a smile and a story about being newlywed artists on a pilgrimage.

For three days, they had lived on bread, cheese, olives, and each other.

They had walked through olive groves, their hands linked.

They had slept in a real bed, not the lurching, cramped bunk of the wagon.

"I feel..." Paul started, the words catching.

He swallowed, forcing them out.

"I feel like... my heart wants to scream and explode with happiness, and I need to keep quiet, so as the whole world won't explode and burn with me."

Lili’s expression softened.

She knew what that meant.

For a man haunted by the explosions of war and the applause of the theater, silence was a gift.

She lowered her head back to his chest, settling into the groove of his body as if she had been carved to fit there.

"I feel the same." she whispered.

Paul closed his eyes.

The pain in his leg was a dull ache, a constant companion, but it was distant now, overshadowed by the warmth of the woman in his arms.

Paul thought of the seed he had left inside her, a silent, potential life.

He thought of the future, a concept that had been a blank wall to him for eight years.

He kissed the top of her head again, a solemn vow, and moved his hand from her hair to her shoulder, pulling the furs higher to cover her exposed skin.

The wind howled outside, a lonely sound, but inside the small room, the air was still and warm.

Lili’s breathing deepened, slowing into the cadence of sleep.

She was safe.

She was loved.

And for the first time since the war had ended, Paul felt he had a reason for breathing the air he breath ...

[ariel-seagull-wings]

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