falsettos cast crack

that was interesting

thankfully, the scene that i had envisioned wasn't there. what was there, however, was mayhem. i took a glorious second to take it all in.

anthony rosenthal was perched on top of the dressing room table, wielding a conductors stick in beat to Hard to Be Bard, which was blasting from a large speaker above him. stephanie j. block stood next to a lamp and was knitting what looked like a mix between a crab and a unicorn. christian borle was reading "geronimo stilton: adventure of the fireflies" while stuck in a plank position. tracie thoms was face painting betsy wolfe's face, making her look like groot. but best of all, andrew rannells was running around the room with his hair half done, brandishing a banana and chasing a cockroach around the room, attempting to use the banana to smash the cockroach, the trails of mashed banana strewn all over the room evidently showing this.

like i said. batty broadway.

brandon didn't look fazed by the chaos. he produced a recorder from his pocket and started playing what baking can do, the occasional note squeaking a lot. i simply stood there, soaking in the energy i wanted to manifest.

"DIE SATAN'S SPAWN DIE DIE. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY HUMBLE ABODE DONT YOU DARE GET ON MY FOUNDATION PALETTE." with one final swing, andrew successful managed to smash the cockroach... into a sandwich. "all you have to do now is eat that, andrew," squeaked anthony. andrew straightened up and walked towards me. "hello, how may i assist you today?"

*tHe hAir the internet really didn't lie huh*

"hello mr rannells! i'm harper and well brandon here said i won some sort of contest so i'll be getting to watch you perform!"

"THE CHOSEN ONE," andrew screeched. the room immediately fell silent. stephanie dropped her knitting and christian collapsed onto the floor. "congratulations! i'm andrew rannells and i'm from omaha nebraska."