Me and My Shadow
Oct. 30th, 2009 04:11 pmBack in the Dark Ages when I was in high school, like 400 years ago... No, I'm kidding. It was October 1983...and the Literary Club and the Drama Club were collaborating, as we so often did, on a Halloween project. We decided that we would write and perform a mock talent show featuring various monsters from classic monster movies. The set-up was that the Literary Club would write the turgid talent contest and the Drama Club would perform it. Of course, there were some cross-overs because some of the Dramas were good at writing and some of the Lits were good at performing.
The show was written pretty quickly, but we had issues with the ending. Since it was decided early on the folks who paid to see the show wouldn't know that it was a mock talent contest, we didn't want a recognisable student to actually win. So we all stayed after school one day and brainstormed. And I came up with this idea. Why not have the Invisible Man do a number and end up winning the contest? The bouquet of roses could be set on the empty seat where he's supposed to be sitting and everyone will be happy with the results. Everyone thought that was a dandy idea, but they were curious as to what sort of number the Invisible Man would do.
"Well, why don't we pull one of the mics backstage and have the Invisible Man tap dance to 'Me and My Shadow?'" I asked. The idea was another winner, but no one knew how to tap dance.
Except for me. When I was even younger than high school age, I used to play with my cousins' tap shoes, putting them on my hands and tapping away to old Big Band Jazz tunes on the record player (if you don't know what that is, youngsters...it's now a musical instrument used for scratching in many Rap songs). I couldn't tap dance with my feet to save my life, but I was a tapping fool if you put the shoes on my hands. I explained this to the club members and they all looked at me like I was a fruit loop...and rightfully so. I mean...who tap dances with their hands? At any rate, the consensus was that the Invisible Man would perform a tap dance number and subsequently win the talent contest. And I would be the Invisible Man.
The night of the big show came and everyone who'd paid for a ticket arrived with an overwhelming sense of antici........pation. The proceeds for the show were going to some sort of charity, I forget which, but we weren't conning the public even though some of us were tempted. I'm not naming names. We had Dracula singing a Rock song, Frankenstein doing a dramatic reading (this was before Tonto, Tarzan, and Frankenstein...we should have sued SNL), the three Witches (and I was one of them) doing a suggestive dance around their cauldron, and a number of other humourous monster encounters for our Halloween talent contest. The final contestant was the Invisible Man.
The set up was this: we'd taped a live mic to the floor backstage and piped the song "Me and My Shadow" through the sound system in the auditorium. I was sitting straddled in front of the mic with my cousin's tap shoes on my hands. As soon as the music started, I began to hand dance, tapping away like Mr. Bojangles from Hell. The effect was that the audience could hear someone tap-dancing, but the stage appeared to be empty. They loved it.
When the winner was announced, the public was in full agreement and actually gave a standing ovation when the flowers were brought out and placed on the Invisible Man's lap. I was backstage laughing my butt off. Nobody but my fellow Lits and Dramas ever knew who the Invisible Man was and they never questioned my mad tap-dancing skillz after that magical night when my hands got busy on "Me and My Shadow."
Maybe I should take this act to America's Got Talent so I could be laughed off stage, because I'm certain I would be.
So yeah...me and the Invisible Man? We're tight. Totally.
The show was written pretty quickly, but we had issues with the ending. Since it was decided early on the folks who paid to see the show wouldn't know that it was a mock talent contest, we didn't want a recognisable student to actually win. So we all stayed after school one day and brainstormed. And I came up with this idea. Why not have the Invisible Man do a number and end up winning the contest? The bouquet of roses could be set on the empty seat where he's supposed to be sitting and everyone will be happy with the results. Everyone thought that was a dandy idea, but they were curious as to what sort of number the Invisible Man would do.
"Well, why don't we pull one of the mics backstage and have the Invisible Man tap dance to 'Me and My Shadow?'" I asked. The idea was another winner, but no one knew how to tap dance.
Except for me. When I was even younger than high school age, I used to play with my cousins' tap shoes, putting them on my hands and tapping away to old Big Band Jazz tunes on the record player (if you don't know what that is, youngsters...it's now a musical instrument used for scratching in many Rap songs). I couldn't tap dance with my feet to save my life, but I was a tapping fool if you put the shoes on my hands. I explained this to the club members and they all looked at me like I was a fruit loop...and rightfully so. I mean...who tap dances with their hands? At any rate, the consensus was that the Invisible Man would perform a tap dance number and subsequently win the talent contest. And I would be the Invisible Man.
The night of the big show came and everyone who'd paid for a ticket arrived with an overwhelming sense of antici........pation. The proceeds for the show were going to some sort of charity, I forget which, but we weren't conning the public even though some of us were tempted. I'm not naming names. We had Dracula singing a Rock song, Frankenstein doing a dramatic reading (this was before Tonto, Tarzan, and Frankenstein...we should have sued SNL), the three Witches (and I was one of them) doing a suggestive dance around their cauldron, and a number of other humourous monster encounters for our Halloween talent contest. The final contestant was the Invisible Man.
The set up was this: we'd taped a live mic to the floor backstage and piped the song "Me and My Shadow" through the sound system in the auditorium. I was sitting straddled in front of the mic with my cousin's tap shoes on my hands. As soon as the music started, I began to hand dance, tapping away like Mr. Bojangles from Hell. The effect was that the audience could hear someone tap-dancing, but the stage appeared to be empty. They loved it.
When the winner was announced, the public was in full agreement and actually gave a standing ovation when the flowers were brought out and placed on the Invisible Man's lap. I was backstage laughing my butt off. Nobody but my fellow Lits and Dramas ever knew who the Invisible Man was and they never questioned my mad tap-dancing skillz after that magical night when my hands got busy on "Me and My Shadow."
Maybe I should take this act to America's Got Talent so I could be laughed off stage, because I'm certain I would be.
So yeah...me and the Invisible Man? We're tight. Totally.
