__ Choreographer’s Demise ___

__ Choreographer’s Demise ___



It was the coldest summer any one could remember, Andy the “The Cumins” producer had other ideas, a single great hit for his girls, that would shoot them up into the number one spot and stay there - easing the cold summer with a “Hot Hot Summer” song, making the young and old travel back to that exceptional summer, of brilliant memories and nostalgia.



Andy had finally negotiated out the last remnant of useless syllabus from the poet and had persuaded the sound engineer to look out for all traces of redundant diphthongs that can resemble any thing but razor-sharp, jagged but the brittle as crisp, super segmentals, plastic as knife on butter, ready for morphing a sound into lips made out to be zoomed within nano second perfection video. He murmured to himself, “Hot Summer, Hot Hot Summer”, as rocked his hips synchronized with the dangling fat belly.



(Comins ad lib
Summer,
Hot Hot Summer)


SAMA,
UT AT SAMAA,

one could hear the energetic audio rehearsal with the occasional taps and shout of approval from the excited team all through out the day, interrupted, with the occasional, charging out of the excited, legsie, Barbie girl lookalikes, otherwise, with their monotone dreary synthetic long wavy brown sculpture of anti-humectants nurtured patches, with intermittent shinny plasticky white shreds of peroxide clay hair, as they charged out of the studio for short spans of fresh air, it was not for nothing that they were called “The Cumins”.



(Comins ad lib
Summer,
Hot Hot Summer)


SAMAA,
UAT AUT SAMAAU,



(later same week)


For as long as memory has it, choreographers, arrive in limos, only to have gotten wider and taller, as the edit team looked on. The background dancing cast, seemed to be able to keep themselves behaved, busy and entertained with short talks, as the rewind back instructions to first positions were repeating.


Andy seemed to be making a strong point with his arms movements as grabbed the chief of the choreography team by hand dragged him out of his limo, “It is all a matter of delivery how many words do you think I can deliver in that time, you aught to have more cast in the background, the girls legs are giving in, they can not move so many parts of their body at the same time in that sort of time span”.





“We have it all worked out”; said the chief, “ I recall your nightmares with our Locomotor techniques appreciation, I understand, you care for your girls, but I know what I am doing”, he waved his fingers towards the chap next as if to say get on with it, “Literary, Kinesthetic awareness is just like a puzzle it will all fit in, don’t worry”


(open air - silent scene of short talks from the dancing cast fills the background and a few moment later)

(Comins ad lib
Summer,
Hot Hot Summer)

SAMA,
UT AT SAMAA,

SAMAA,
UAT AUT SAMAAU,

SAMA, UT SAMU,
UT UT SAMU,


The Cumins, synchronize and shift, budge, arms, eyes, legs, lips, with hypnotic accuracy. Sometimes in concord, with military, dignity to be interrupted with that amorphous, unanticipated, yet realized, but perverse, suggestion of open legs, providing contentment, to another of cast in distance, only to be disrupted by open legs bulging out and waving of next Cumins Girls towards yet another new crew in the cast entering the scene.



(Comins ad lib
Summer,
Hot Hot Summer)


SAMA,
UT AT SAMAA,

SAMAA,
UAT AUT SAMAAU,


It is perfect, precision entertainment.

The girls continue, in full control, with their now almost final rehearsals, everyone looks forwards to the final take. It is now almost crystal clear to the minds of nearly all in the group , how it will churn out a brilliant music video for the summer.

Shorttee, as is known, the shortest of the six Cumins, is in the back ready to move to the front, to do yet another, of that signature motion, for “Hot Summer”. She gathers her momentum, as moves to front, the girl in front giving her just enough space in the crowded scene for Shortee to take her place. She utters,


(Comins ad lib
Summer,
Hot Hot Summer)


SAMA,
SEEM SAMA,
UT OUSAMA,

Cut, Cut !!! cries of it are allover the place by Andy, Choreographer, Girls, and all cast of people not meant to cut.


(Camera zooms on the Choreographer, the mayhem and the chaos in the background seems not relevant any more to the camera, or the Chorographer, as the close-up shows the Chorographer’s face, yet another chapter closing, he already knows as Hip Hop, moves in even closer it is time for him to move on, more words are to be delivered tomorrow, as a USPS van drives away, ….. )