What Would Catholic School Kids Do?: A Play in Four Acts

 

When I was younger, I had a very active imagination.

 

We all did, really.

 

My sister, my cousins, and I, I mean.

 

Whenever we all got together in our playroom, I'd be the first to break out the two big brown garbage bags full of dress-up clothes.

 

Clothes collected throughout the years from all of our family members who didn't seem to have a use for them anymore.

 

Even Aunt Lori, who was a single mom, donated.

 

She worked as a "waitress" in a topless bar and her clothes were always of the risque variety.

 

I remember my mother taking me into the bathroom one time with a long trenchcoat that Aunt Lori had donated.

 

In the pocket was a condom.

 

That's when I first learned about sex.

 

I was eight.

 

 

One day, while poking around through my mini-library that was in the far left corner of the playroom, I came across my "Children's First Book of Saints" book.

 

It was pretty much mandatory that every Catholic child have one of these.

 

It was like second to the Catholic version of the Bible and you usually got one from your Grandmother on the day of your First Communion.

 

I know I did.

 

"Hey.  I got an idea."  I said.

 

"Uh oh."  My cousin, David, immediately said.

 

"It better not be stupid!"  my sister, Sherry, yelled.

 

"Shut up."  I said.  "We can put on another play for our parents."

 

My two other cousins, Jessica and Kristen, clapped excitedly.  "Yay!"

 

"What kind of play this time?"  Brandon, David's brother, asked.

 

I held up the book proudly with a smile on my face.

 

"We're going to act out the lives of our favorite saints." 

 

"I don't have a favorite."  Sherry immediately interjected.  She was such a downer.

 

"Then we'll pick one for you."  David said grabbing the book from me.

 

We all huddled around the book like it was the blueprints for our master plan for world domination.

 

After about an hour and a half and a lot of tin foil, we had our costumes ready, our lines rehearsed and memorized, and our parents sitting downstairs in the living room "waiting for the show to begin in about ten minutes."

 

 

 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen!  We welcome you to our show today!  The Kids of the Playroom present 'The Lives of the Saints'!  A play in four acts!"  I said into my fake plastic microphone in the middle of my living room.

 

 I was always the announcer or the narrator unless of course I had a speaking part in the play.  Then David would fill in for me.

 

Our parents clapped with huge smiles on their faces. 

 

That was my favorite part of the whole thing.

 

Seeing those big smiles.

 

"Look at our kids...."  Those smiles said.  "Aren't they amazing?"

 

The "curtain" opened with David sitting at a big desk. 

 

"Saint Charles Borromeo was a great teacher and a writer."  I opened up.

 

"He founded many schools for the poor and trained many priests how to live a holy life." 

 

David rose from the desk and began pushing it "offstage." 

 

(Offstage was the staircase.  There was a door you could get to if you exited stage left where our parents couldn't see you that led to the staircase upstairs.  That was where everyone waited to either come onstage or help you into the next part of your costume.)

 

He returned with a jump rope around his neck and holding the Crucifix we had torn down from the playroom wall followed by my sister and the rest of my cousins wearing the dirtiest looking rags we had in the dress-up bags.

 

"Charles also spent his time visiting the sick and homeless.  He often walked around town with a rope around his neck to show his penance to God.  He gave away most of his clothes and when he died he was the patron saint of seminaries."

 

David gave his coat away to Jessica, who gave him her dirty, torn one in return.

 

We all bowed and I announced Act Two while everyone scurried offstage.

 

My parents clapped and the big smiles returned.

 

"Saint Stephen,"  I began.  "was chosen by Jesus' disciples to live a holy life to help take care of poor people."

 

Brandon walked onstage with a giant white apron on followed by the same dirty clad cousins. 

 

He was passing out play food to them and they looked very happy.

 

"One day, some of the Jews accused him of speaking out against God and Moses."  I continued.

 

My cousins pantomimed yelling at Saint Stephen and him standing up bravely to them.

 

"The Jews were very angry but Stephen looked up to Heaven and said,"

 

The crowds parted from Brandon and he gazed straight up to the ceiling and said with conviction,  "I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."

 

"The crowd didn't like that very much."  I said.  "So they dragged him out into the city and stoned him to death."

 

My cousins and sister began pelting Brandon with little tin foil balls we had made up.

 

"Lord, lay not this sin against them!"  Brandon shouted to the ceiling again.  "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!" 

 

Then he played dead.

 

"St. Stephen was the first martyr."  I concluded Act Two and prepped the audience for Act Three.

 

I saw the smiles start to fade slightly and the clapping wasn't nearly as loud as it was for Act One.

 

"We're losing them."  I whispered to the cast offstage.  "Make it good."

 

They all nodded.

 

Act Three was about to begin.

 

Jessica came out wearing a very pretty common-looking dress with a shawl draped around her shoulders. 

 

She was carrying a basket and pretending to pick flowers that weren't actually there.

 

"Maria Goretti was a beautiful Italian girl of twelve who lived on a farm."  I opened.

 

"One day, Alessandro, a nineteen-year-old neighbor who was working on the farm, stopped by her house and wanted to do wrong with her."

 

David entered the stage dressed all in black and tried to grab Maria by the arm.

 

"No!  No!"  Jessica screamed at him.  "Don't touch me!  It is a sin and  you will go to Hell!"

 

With that a very choreographed fight scene started to erupt onstage. 

 

David grabbed Jessica by the shoulders and shook her until she dropped her basket.

 

Her face held the perfect expression of fear as she tried to punch and push him away from her.

 

Then David grabbed a tin foil knife out of his shirt pocket and stabbed Jessica until she fell to the floor.

 

(Fourteen times exactly, according to the book.)

 

"Oh God!  I am dying!"  Jessica even had fake tears in her eyes.  It was brilliant.  "Momma!" 

 

David ran offstage and Kristen came out to tend to Jessica's dying aid.

 

"Maria was taken to the hospital and suffered there for two whole days."  I continued.

 

The rest of the cast surrounded Jessica and Brandon dressed as a priest handed her the Crucifix.

 

"Maria?  Would you like to forgive your killer?"  he asked her.

 

Jessica responded in breathy gasps.  "Yes.....for the love of Jesus, I forgive him.  I want him to be with me in Heaven.  May God forgive him!"  She kissed the Crucifix and played dead. 

 

Kristen broke out into wailing sobs while Sherry comforted her.

 

Brandon bowed his head and made the sign of the cross.

 

"Maria is the patron saint of boys and girls to help keep them pure."  I said to our audience.

 

The clapping was slow and practically non-existant. 

 

The big smiles were gone.

 

My Aunt Cindy looked slightly pale.

 

I ran offstage and passed David my fake plastic microphone.

 

I had to get ready since I was the star of the next act. 

 

David needed to kill time since we needed to prepare for the big finale. 

 

We frantically changed into our costumes and made sure all of the props were ready.

 

"I hope you're all enjoying the show!"  David was saying.

 

"Stop me if you've heard this one!  So there's this man sitting on top of a building during a really bad flood.  A boat comes by and the man driving it tells him to get in.  'No, thank you.  The Lord will save me,'  the man told him.  A little while later a helicopter came by and tried to save the man.  'No, thank you.  The Lord will save me.'  Well, the man drowned and he died and went to Heaven.  When he saw God he asked him why he didn't save him from the flood.    Then God said, 'I sent you a boat and a helicopter!  What more do you want, dummy?'"  David laughed hysterically and our parents giggled and clapped slightly.

 

Brandon stuck his head out from behind the door and gave David the thumbs up to let him know we were ready.

 

"And now for our final act!"  David bellowed.

 

"St. Joan of Arc was seventeen when she heard the voice of God tell her to drive the enemies of France out of the land."  David narrated.

 

I came onstage wrapped in tin foil carrying a large banner that said "Jesus, Mary" written on it.

 

"The king granted her a small army and the soldiers were all filled with courage to drive the British army away."

 

Brandon, Sherry, Jessica, and Kristen all followed me marching wearing white sashes with red paper crosses taped to them. 

 

"Soon, Joan was captured by the British army and remained in prison for nine months.  They asked her why she kept going to confession everyday."

 

Brandon pantomimed asking me this question while everyone else ran offstage to tear their sashes off.

 

"My soul can never be too clean!  I believe that the Lord will save me!"  I answered staring at the ceiling again.

 

Suddenly my cousins returned and grabbed me and set a huge wooden plank behind me.

 

Brandon ran offstage to get ready for his part.

 

"Joan of Arc was taken to the marketplace where the people had her burned at the stake because they believed she was a witch."  David told the audience.

 

Sherry held a crucifix in front of me and I kept my eyes focused on it (just like it said the real Joan of Arc did in the book).

 

"Jesus, Jesus!"  I cried out.  I really felt the part.

 

Brandon returned with orange and red tissue paper cut in a certain way to look like flames and began waving them around me.

 

Then I bowed my head and played dead too.

 

"The end!"  David announced.

 

My cousins and I scurried forward to give our final bows.

 

Our parents were all pale at this point and clapped as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

 

Aunt Lori was the only one who really enjoyed the show.  She was whistling and barking like a dog as if it were the greatest thing she had ever seen.

 

She ran up and hugged us all.

 

"That was so awesome, guys!"  she said.

 

My mother practically ran to the kitchen with Aunt Cindy following her, shaking her head and whispering quietly to her.

 

My dad and Uncle David just sat on the sofa stunned. 

 

We were proud though.

 

No one messed up any lines and David's joke wasn't nearly as lame as his usually were.

 

I couldn't figure out what the big deal was. 

 

We did a damn good job and at least Aunt Lori was appreciative.

 

 

 

Thinking back, I could see why my parents were so appalled by the performance. 

 

I also think about how there was really nothing they could do about it since this was the type of education they chose to bring us up with. 

 

I often tell my friends this story and they can't believe it either.

 

"Catholic kids are fucked up!"  they say.

 

My usual response is a simple shrug.

 

Followed by a nod and a big smile.