"Curtains going up in 2 minutes," the director called out. Everyone rushed harder, makeup artists fixing and dabbing at the faces of actors, the production team adding the last props onto the stage, the orchestra tuning their instruments. What was I doing you ask? Nothing. I just sat on the floor of the sidelines, feeling bored as ever. No one was paying any attention to me: I was the smallest role. All I had to do was walk on stage, give "Inspector Chase" his tea and biscuits, and leave. The director even said I could go home after that. So here I was, watching the performers hyperventilate with nerves, their faces white, while the director spoke words of encouragement. Lame. But I guess it was easy for me not to be nervous; they were carrying the full 2 hour play on their shoulders while I carried maybe in all 10 seconds of it. "And we're on," the director shouted. The lights on stage cut out, the audience quietened, the curtains rose, and the show begun. After a few scenes, it seemed to be going great because I could see the director was no longer chewing his pen lid off. Most actors were given strict orders to not leave the wings for refreshments, but I could, small role remember?

"Bad show?" The cashier lady said, scanning my item of a diet coke and packet of Doritos. I shrugged.

"No, it's fine," I replied nonchalantly. I returned back to my seat on the sideline and opened my packet.

"Shhh," the director hushed me fiercely. Ok then. I figured another 2 scenes left until I was up. I couldn't wait to go home. I took my position by the wing when the scene before mine closed. I looked up. Inspector Chase was sitting on the centre of the stage on a wooden chair by a table ladened with a teapot and a packet of biscuits that I was to put onto his plate. I shuffled onto stage, very very aware of the audience's eyes on me. I wanted to look out to them but the director had told me to train my eyes to the floor like a servant might, so I did. But because I had, I wasn't anticipating when I'd reach the table. I crashed into it, causing the teapot to splash onto Inspector Chase and the closed packet of biscuits to roll on the floor. Thankfully the table stayed upright but uh oh. I ran after the packet of biscuits and grabbed it, racing back to the table.

"So sorry," I muttered under my breath to the actor. He ignored me, trying to stay in role. I opened the packet, only realising now I wasn't sure how much to give him. I dunked the whole lot into his little plate. Biscuits scattered around the plate, overflowing, and some landed in the pool of spilt tea. I stuffed the biscuits that weren't in the plate into my pocket, my face hot. I could hear murmurs and snickering from the audience, and I didn't dare look behind me to the director. I cringed. Oh he must be fuming. I decided just then I'd been on stage way longer than I should have and to make up for the time lost, I didn't poor his tea for him and I ran back to the left wing. I heaved a sigh of relief as I almost reached the wing... but far too soon. I felt it before I heard it. The audience gasped, then exploded into laughter. My servant costume pants had ripped. Usually, I would not care about that crap. Who cares if people saw my undergarment, it was like a swimming suit anyway. Most of them. This one? I had specifically decided to bring my unicorn,-hugging-candy-floss ones because they were the most comfortable. Bad choice. Bad, bad choice. Even Inspector Chase was laughing, his own face red, probably extreme second hand embarrassment. I looked ahead; the director's face was white, mouth open, and eyes for slits as they stared daggers at me. I'm not a religious type, but in that moment I prayed to every God from every religion to open a blackhole under me and swallow me, away from this.