pièce de résistance

“Je m’appelle… Monique.  Repetez!” my High School French teacher Monsieur Kline (the Maurice Chevalier of northern Indiana) instructed me theatrically in the proper pronunciation of how to repeat the sentence “My name is Penny” en Francaise. 

“Je m’appelle Monique” I ‘repetez-ed’ obediently.

Now while I may not have been destined to be the next Madame Curie, neither was I intending to become the Madam of the local ‘bunny ranch’ in the 9th grade.  (I mean seriously, in just what Provence does “Penny” translate into “Monique”?) 

“Je m’appelle… Raoul.  Repetez!” he renamed my annoyed friend RJ.  “Je m’appelle… Brigitte.  Repetez!”  he continued.  “Je m’appelle… Chauntelle?” he paused, most unaccustomed to facing anyone of actual French descent.

“Oui!  Je m’appelle Chauntelle!” she smiled brightly.

Suddenly swathed in purple and green robes, checking my dramatic eyeliner in the mirror and continuing my on-going battle with my husband Maurice, father to my daughter Samantha and Gran papa to Tabitha; I magically turned ‘Derwood’  into a warty toad with a flick of my wrist.

(It seemed the right thing to do at the time.)

However, bolting upright, flourishing an arm and announcing “Je m’appelle… Endora!” in my bed, I reconsidered my previously enthusiastic choice of an evening of cocktails and a marathon of “Bewitched” television re-runs…

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Of course the dream meant nothing to me at the crack of noon on a hiatus week.  Most likely, the trip down memory lane had been induced by one of the television shows that I cherished in my youth and my subconscious had simply selected a random event (one Maurice to another) from my past, corresponding to a more innocent time in life. 

But why all the drama?

And then the realization hit me:  I had already read our script for this week and upon scanning the cast list, I was delighted to see the name of our Guest Star, yet another iconic and beloved character from a hit Sit-com (1982-1993).

And like a flashback in High-Def and Smell-O-Vision, there was no need for a translator:

He couldn’t help it; he didn’t mean to contract it, but there the four of us sat in our shared condo at Indiana University on a Thursday night; and while we weren’t so much bothered by one roommate’s crack-like addiction to watching the aforementioned TV show, three of us germ-a-phobic wimps cowered in the presence of the tallest yet scrawniest of our bunch.  

A raging case of Pink Eye had suddenly empowered Drew into a rare valiant attempt to take control over all communal living areas:  and feeling defenseless against the foreign virus until Drew’s antibiotics kicked in, three of us found ourselves succumbing (albeit reluctantly) to all of his demands.

“I will turn this button on with my eye!” he threatened us, stuffing a $0.99 chicken-pot-pie into the microwave and declaring 60 seconds of nuking his first right over RJ’s leftover pizza.

“I will wipe my eye on the kitchen towels!” his reign of terror continued the next day, should Jeanette and I not tend to “the proper women’s work” of cleaning his leftover dishes in the sink.

“I WILL TURN THIS TV OFF WITH MY EYE IF ANY ONE OF YOU SO MUCH AS TRY TO CHANGE THE CHANNEL!” he menaced us on that fateful Thursday night…

And in a brilliantly executed coup d’état, we, ‘The Three Musketeers’ banished the tyranny of “King ‘Pink Eye’ Drew” with a revolutionary spray assault of Lysol Disinfectant. (True story!)  

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Although satisfied with my expert dream analysis, there still lingered the uneasiness of greeting our Guest Star on Monday. 

Should I maintain a low profile and speak only if spoken to? 

Could I dare to introduce myself and mention that I’ve enjoyed his comedic talents over the years? 

Oh crap, what if I accidentally “Ethel Mertzed” (my verb) the poor unsuspecting fellow and despite his notoriously quirky sense of humor, spewed an unintelligible narration of hosing down his Biggest-Fan-in-the-Whole-Wide-World-Whoever-Lived with approximately 50 ounces of antiseptic?  Would he deem me a certifiable nut-case and have me hauled off the lot by Security, never to work in show business again, establishing a life-long restraining order barring me from ever interacting with iconic celebrities in fear of their lives being “Ethel Mertzed”???

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It was a “now or never” moment.

Rising from my chair I extended a hand pleasantly.  “Hi.  We haven’t met yet.  My name is Penny” I introduced myself professionally as my co-worker Dev did the same.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m John” he responded cordially.

“So are you nervous about handling the animals?” Dev (forever cool as a cucumber while I was busy biting my tongue) casually inquired with regard to the macaw and python that John would be interacting with for the week.

“Nah, just glad I’m not doing a scene with a raccoon.  Now those are NASTY creatures!  Hey, did you know they can kill a dog?  Seriously, here’s a true story…” he continued, launching into a lengthy circuitous tale; the likes of which (true or fabricated, I’ll never know) eclipsed any recollections of a scrawny pink-eyed fallen dictator lying on the floor grasping at an inedible Lysol-covered chicken-pot-pie.

And that’s saying something!

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As you’ve likely surmised by now, any fleeting feelings of anxiety I had experienced went by the wayside, and by Thursday I felt only the warmest of camaraderie that naturally develops amongst a happy cast and crew.  And frankly, if the only story I would ever tell about meeting our Guest Star involved a rabid raccoon and an Akita, then my life experience was still that much richer.

Until…

“PENNY!” my AD shouted, catching me off-guard backstage with a pair of tongs reaching for a brownie.  And scurrying to his side, he asked me if I was good to go in Scene L, as he wanted to keep my lovely actress in the Hair/Make-up room for another ten minutes.

“Yep, got it, copy that” I replied, flipping through my script for a quick glance at her/my dialogue.

And oui, mes amis, today I had the distinct honor of performing (even if only as a Stand-in) with one more of my Hollywood heroes!

Cheers, and ratatouille to all,

~ “Monique”