Donatello in: A Fashion Fairytale

Act One: Part One

Despite what nearly anyone would assume, Donatello was a good actor. The general assumption was that if you were bad at lying, you were bad at acting. ‘Acting is just lying for a paycheck,’ his dad used to tell him, ‘easy as very sweet very expensive pie. But you, purple, are no good at lying.’ Donatello would disagree. Acting and lying were very different, and one was much easier than the other. And a formerly-famous Father and a cloaking broach can go a long way in this city. 

“And this is the bedroom I've prepared for you” Donatello's coworker, an older human actress, decked to the nines with, frankly, a very beautiful, if not historically inaccurate, ornate gown. Donnie himself was in a rich purple princely costume, he craned his neck up at the overly large pile of mattresses stacked nearly to the ceiling of the set. Donnie fained a large yawn, and gave a small bow in her direction. 

A few months ago Donatello had landed a role as the lead prince in a 21st century, gender bent and, blind casted retelling of ‘Princess and The Pea’. Surely they  could've chosen a more socially relevant story to revamp for a modern audience, but as his father said, ‘ a paycheck is a paycheck’.

“Thank you for giving me a place to rest for the night, You are very kind madam.” In his peripheral, he could see his friends off to the side of the set, just beyond where the camera could reach. Cassandra flipped along with the script with a grimace on her face, sunita sat to her side watching intently.  Donnie stifled a laugh. “What an enormous bed” he gasped, and placed a hand to his chest. Of course, he always would put on his best for the screen,but even he had to admit that his heart wasn't in this performance. 

“Why, of course darling. I'd provide no less for a... Prince.” there was a slight lilt to her tone, the same way she's delivered this line nearly a hundred times. That was the thing Donnie appreciated most about acting, the predictability, the repetition. He always knew the next line, the next act. He made his way to the high ladder, and placed a shined leather boot against the bottom rung. He could feel the harness under his clothes as he waited for his cue to start climbing. Although he, and everyone else, was very confident in his ability to climb a ladder and lay on a bed, god forbid he slips or a rung breaks and OSHA’s crawling all over the place. 

“If you really are  a prince!” For her part, the actress did a lovely job at playing the dramatic over-the- top villainess. Donnie directed his cringe inward as he climbed this ladder for the 12th time today, listening to his co-star cackle behind him. He reached the top of the ladder and sighed into the plushness of the bed, the only reward for his efforts. He nestled his head against the pillows. As low budget as this was, the set designers really outdid themselves on this. 

“Bring out the peas!” the director shouted from behind the camera. Donnie pursed his lips. Ah, script changes, his greatest enemy. One of the only things that could wreck the careful tapestry of predictability he so desperately relied on. He should have expected it, this director was prone to fits of outrage and last minute script changes. He leaned down to glance over the edge of the bed and down at the cheap mascots of, what he could only assume was supposed to be, zombie peas. Donnie didn't try to contain his grimace as they danced and, to his disgust, began rapping.

“Zombie peas?” Sunita leaned in, as if her eyes were deceiving her, and cringed back when she accepted they weren't. Her hands fidgeted with her own cloaking broach pinned to her cardigan. “Cass?” she looked between her friend, and the set of dancing peas. Cassandra had her face shoved in the script, flipping between the pages to try and find where in the world this couldve come from. Donnies pet Mayhem shifted uncomfortably in Sunita’s lap. 

“This is terrible” she scrunched her nose towards the director. “I give it about 5 seconds before Donnie loses it.”  the director grinned as one of the “zombie peas” or, zom-peas as he would so eloquently put it, started clumsily making its way up the ladder. Donnie wretched back from the growling thing, visibly gritting his teeth and clutching the bed as it shook under the weight of two. Sure, he knew he was safe with the security of the safety harness, but this guy barely looked like he was able to see two inches in front of him let alone climb a ladder in the large orb-like costume.