When I get to the subway station two blocks away, I see the same three kids hanging out in front of the bagel place next door.
They're still laughing and yuck-yucking each other like they're some kind of gangbangers, little rich boys in expensive skinny jeans acting tough.
Don't know what possesses me, but I take my glasses off, put them in my pocket, and tuck my fiddle case under my arm so the pointy side is facing up.
I walk over to them, my face scrunched up, mean-looking.
They look at me, laughs dying on their lips when they see me, ice cream cones at odd angles.
“Yo, listen up. Don't mess with Jack,” I say really slowly, gritting my teeth, my voice all Clint Eastwood tough-guy.
“Mess with him again and you will be very, very sorry.” And then I tap my fiddle case for effect. “Got it?”
They nod in unison, ice cream dripping onto their hands. “Good.”
I nod mysteriously, then sprint down the subway two steps at a time.
Rehearsal
The play is taking up most of my time as we get closer to opening night.
Lots of lines to remember. Long monologues where it's just me talking.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색