In The Queue

Though little sound made it inside our cell, it was obvious when the girls were taken from the cell next to us and I did my best to mentally prepare myself, knowing that they’d soon be ready to take us from our cell.

I was surprised how quickly the guards returned for us, certainly less than fifteen minutes later.

We were led to the side of the stage where a strange array of props stood on countless racks that seemed to be meticulously organized by someone with nothing better to do. A curtain hung at the front, mostly obscuring the stage and completely blocking any sight of the audience beyond.

In the moment it took me to wonder if the peacock lady was responsible for his costume as well, a thin, balding man in his fifties stepped in front of us and said, “Dispondrás de cuatro minutos para demostrar tu valía. Puede seleccionar entre estos accesorios. Por favor no pegue ninguna de ellas dentro de ti.”

Christy translated for me, “He says you’ve got four minutes to put on a show. You can take props from here, just don’t stick them inside yourself.”

Aghast, I asked, “Is he serious?”

Christy shrugged and said, “He seemed serious. I guess I won’t demonstrate my sword swallowing technique.”

“Ew,” I said as I turned to look at my choices.

"What did you pick?” Cathy asks.

I chuckle, “I’m getting to that, just wait for it, Miss Impatient.”