by Hardy Happenen
aka Bob Grylls
There was a murder in the wind at the Westmeath Community Hall last Saturday. The ‘Mystery at Curst Mansion was performed with 12 suspects, all with a motive to have killed Oscar Tame the reporter, who would stop at nothing to get the unbeatable stories, using nefarious means to be first to have them printed. The suspects felt Oscar got “what was coming to him”.
The hall was packed with 120 onlookers, gripped throughout in suspense. The setting was the roaring ‘20’s where the Charleston, revelry and flappers were the rage. Many women came dressed in their own striking flapper dresses adorned with feathers, headbands and accessories
Two of the cast invited to Curst Mansion were media types, publicist Alice Sedd and reporter Lois Bong, and wouldn’t have hesitated a minute to gain revenge on Oscar. Alice was furious because her assignment to cover tonight’s party was snatched right from under her nose and handed gift-wrapped over to Oscar. Lois, clinging to her designer handbag like it really was one, resented Oscar who had frequently manipulated her into giving up her hard-earned leads that resulted in big features of his own.
A mafia-type, organizer of a crime syndicate involved in racketeering was there also. Al Capop looked tough and talked tough while endeavouring to impress the others with his unruly reputation, especially Lessie Snore, who was determined to demonstrate her jazz-singing with her all-but-forgotten tunes, had anyone the inkling to listen.
William Curst, lord of the mansion outfitted in a smoking jacket that couldn’t cover up his stuffed-shirt, spoke with a British accent used to convey superciliousness. Despite all his money and power, he had difficulty to control his latest squeeze, Carrie Onvamping, an elegant socialite who was with Curst only for his money – nothing else. Somebody with a bigger bankroll than his and she would have dumped him without hesitation.
Then there was the rich aristocrat Grace Vanderpant married to Major Vanderpant, a quarrelling couple whos not-so-well cloaked relationship seeped discontent while shamelessly carrying on lovey-dovey, regardless.
Rudolph Maraschino, an Italian Stallion, bragged endlessly as the lover and satisfier of all women and the rest of them he hadn’t met. The men didn’t fall for his shallowness and challenged him on what he believed was his infallible macho image. Rudy was a mean one, slighting the others when he could. He took a shot at Hardy Happenen (that was me) and said, “Imagine how someone so shabbily dressed could be invited to such a high-brow dinner at Curst Mansion, yet.” I wish I had shot back, “Rudy, I could easily invent you a virile sustainable image that would fool everyone all the time, not just a couple of lonely women. Hardy badly needed a break with one of his inventions, all up to this point were flops!
It seems there is always a failed actor or two invited to these fashionable dinners and tonight was no exception. There were two of them; Fatty Beltbuckle, with the slimmest of odds of making anything of himself, was indeed a mess. Too much gorging on too many banquets resulted in his unproportionate physique. Lately, in hopelessly trying to forget about his tarnished reputation, he had become a closet drinker and out in the open too, that made him less even forgettable. That left Mary Pickmas who had somehow fallen from grace, struck rock bottom with a thud as a well-known actress often does. But not quitting. Instead she regained enough composure to fight the long road back to become a star once again. Tonight, was to be her big break as Oscar had promised to elevate her status in one of his stories. Alas, he died. So, she could only relive her fame from movies in the past to the others mostly with compelling passion but then reverting into a blubbering baby every so often, blaming the Hollywood elite for her demise.
The show was in three parts; before dinner, after dinner and after dessert. (flavoursomely prepared by the Westmeath District Recreation Assocoation kitchen staff as usual). There was the Butler, team organizer and director, who stoically kept us on schedule for rehearsals and many other details, while humorously introducing the storyline. Also, the cool detective inspector Gavin Alaugh who kept us updated throughout his murder investigation, right up to the arrest of the murderer. These two capped off a fun-filled performance that provided comic-relief for our audience.
Personally, in the Hardy Happenen role, I happened to make more than some blunders, the worst one when I froze trying to say my name. Luckily, my partner Sheila was at a nearby table. She lip-spoke ‘Hardy’. I said “Hardy” but froze again until I heard her say ‘Happenen’. Things went a little smoother afterwards but later in my dialogue, I said that I talked to Oscar after his death rather than before. I suppose there were other blunders by many of the cast but those awkward pauses ad libs were much funnier than the script itself.
I know I will always have a problem remembering names and memorizing lines, but it will never stop me from wanting to be included in anything like tonight – if I am ever invited again!
By the way, the murderer was gangster Al Capop.
