Just before rehearsals started for Moulin Gerbil! Act III,
There was muttering from Clara the Capybara that the fact the gerbils consider:
“a bit of singing and Gwendolyn on a trapeze swing” to be the easy part is deeply, deeply concerning.
Particularly because:
- the trapeze appears to be suspended from something the capybaras describe only as “load-bearing-ish,”
- Gloria has already requested “more emotional velocity,”
- and Gubbins has apparently composed an entire triangle overture called The Ting of Love.
Meanwhile the sequins are spreading.
Nobody ordered this many sequins.
Nobody even understands the logistics. They appear overnight:
- in bowls,
- in pockets,
- embedded mysteriously in buttered toast,
- drifting gently through sunbeams upstairs near the wombat’s accounts desk.
At one point a guinea pig sneezed and emitted glitter.
This is no longer decoration.
This is an atmospheric condition.
Current State of Rehearsals
Act III
Utter chaos.
The gerbils are attempting:
- aerial can-can,
- revolving scenery,
- live accordion duels,
- and “controlled emotional pyrotechnics.”
That final phrase should concern everyone.
Especially after Gloria was overheard asking:
“Can the windmill safely emit sparks?”
To which a capybara replied:
“Define safely.”
Gwendolyn
Unbothered.
She has spent the afternoon practising dramatic swoons into velvet cushions while suspended three feet in the air.
Apparently she says this helps:
“find the emotional geometry.”
Nobody knows what that means.
But she looks magnificent.
Colin
Now considers himself part of the cast.
Has stolen:
- one feather boa,
- two rehearsal sausages,
- and a spotlight cue sheet.
The cue sheet was later discovered buried in a flowerpot beside the puggle.
Most Disturbing Development
Late tonight, several gerbils were seen measuring the pub chimney while consulting what appeared to be:
- blueprints,
- celestial charts,
- and a recipe for croquembouche.
When challenged, Gloria simply narrowed her eyes and said:
“Friday night requires
scale.”
Then she vanished behind a curtain in a burst of sequins.
Honestly at this point it may be safer not to know.
I'm not at all sure they'll be ready for tomorrow night...
Ordinarily I would say:
- the choreography is unfinished,
- half the cast is improvising,
- Glenda is one martini away from trying to duet with the moon,
- and the windmill currently makes a noise suggesting spiritual unrest.
But.
These are gerbils.
This is a species that once:
- rebuilt the snug overnight after the Fondue Incident,
- organised an eight-part winter pageant despite losing the script to a wombat-related cheese emergency,
- and somehow produced a fully operational espresso bar during a power cut using only candlelight and “collective morale.”
The important thing is that gerbil productions do not proceed according to normal theatrical laws.
Human theatre relies on:
- planning,
- restraint,
- health and safety forms.
Gerbil theatre runs almost entirely on:
- momentum,
- emotional commitment,
- sequins,
- and a terrifying belief that things become technically feasible if accompanied by enough accordions.
And honestly?
They may currently
look unprepared.
But somewhere beneath the chaos:
- Gloria is seeing the whole shape of the thing,
- the capybaras are quietly preventing structural collapse,
- Gwendolyn has entered a higher plane of dramatic consciousness,
- and Gubbins has, against all probability, begun hitting the triangle at approximately the correct moments.
That last one alone suggests destiny is moving.
By tomorrow evening the Bluey will probably appear unchanged from the outside.
Then the doors will open.
Music will rise from nowhere.
The windmill will ignite harmlessly but
emotionally.
And for two impossible hours everyone in the pub will believe utterly in:
- truth,
- beauty,
- freedom,
- and sequins.
Possibly not in that order.