Twas the performance before closing night of a show I rather not have my dear name pinned to. The final scene was over and the blackout prompted the actors waiting in the wings to emerge and strike themselves into a rehearsed tableau. The lights came up and warmed their faces; they halved themselves graciously at the pitter patter of the audience.
The last scene of the show had me alone on stage in a pair of striped boxer-short underwear. So, when all was said and done, I remained on the other side of the fourth wall and waited to be joined by the others for the curtain call. My wiener popped out whilst bowing.
Backstage in the dressing room I returned to my civilian clothes. "Did your wiener pop out during the bow?" "Yes, it did." "I thought so."
