Wart Hoarse

Sometimes Mark's thick New York/New Jersey accent does present some problems for me.
"Alan, I bought tickets for Woarse next Tuesday."
"Tickets for what?"
"Woarse, the play."
"Woarse? I don't understand what you're saying. Say it a little more slowly Mark."
"War Horse, War Horse."
"War Whores? Is that one of those plays that they put on in a tiny, dirty little storefront theater? Is it going to involve a bunch of unattractive, naked people?"
"No you idiot, War Horse, like the movie we saw last year."
So that is where I was this past Tuesday evening. Sitting in the Broward Center Theater watching War Horse.

"Psst, Mark. This is the worst Broadway musical I've ever seen."
"It's not a musical, it's a play. Now hush..."
Mark was right, it wasn't a musical at all. There were a couple of songs in it, but it was most definitely a play. A three hour long play. But it wasn't just a play, it was also a puppet show. They had puppet birds, puppet horses, and even a puppet fence. The only problem was you could see the puppeteers.
"Psst, Mark. Who are all those guys hanging around the horse?"
"They make the horse move. You aren't supposed to watch them. Only watch the two characters talking. Pretend the other guys are invisible."
"Why are there a bunch of guys standing around the fence then?"
"Same thing, they move the fence around. Don't pay any attention to them."
"Well this is the worst damn puppet show I've ever seen, and I used to watch Howdy Doody. I know how puppets are supposed to work, and this ain't it."

I have to admit, by the second act I was getting used to all the extra people on stage, and I got into the story. In fact, by the end of the last scene, when the kid was reunited with his horse Joey, I was bawling like a little baby.
"Alan, are you crying?"
"Shut up, and let's get out of here before the lights come up."
"I can't believe you're crying. It really wasn't that good."