Sorta Like a Rock Star(63)

“Sixteen million, four hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and eighty.”

“Five times nine,” some little kid wants to know.

“Forty-five,” Ricky says. “Forty-five.”

“Sixty-five times three-hundred thirteen thousand, one-hundred thirty-one.”

“Twenty million, three-hundred and fifty-three thousand, five-hundred and fifteen.”

“Five hundred and sixty-eight point thirteen times five-hundred sixty-seven point seventy-seven,” some wise guy wants to know, throwing decimals at Ricky.

“Three hundred and twenty-two thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven point seventeen.”

Ricky does several more math problems in his head—each time the difficulty is raised—and he answers all of the questions correctly, before he says, “Ricky Roberts is hungry,” and then walks offstage.

The crowd claps for Ricky, and Donna looks so proud in the first row.

There are a few more singing and dancing acts before I make this announcement: “People, it is my pleasure to introduce my good friends Chad and Jared Fox, performing The Spinners classic ‘Working My Way Back to You’ accompanied by The Hard-Working Brothers and the Childress High School cheerleaders!”

Chad, Das Boot, Jared, and The Hard-Working Brothers take the stage.

My boys look good in their tuxedos, although Jared looks like he is about to crap his pants.

The Hard-Working Brothers’ drummer starts the song and the bassist plays some funky notes.

In this really affected put-on voice, from Das Boot, Chad starts singing about how hard he’s working to get back his woman.

When his brother begins to sing, Jared starts clapping and sorta moves his weight from one foot to another.

Suddenly, the cheerleading team comes flying across the stage doing cartwheels—their skirts flying up and down.

It is the strangest thing I have ever seen.

As Jared and Chad sing, the cheerleaders do all sorts of acrobatics—throwing girls up into the air, building human pyramids, and doing spirited jumping jacks with pompoms.

People in the audience actually start to get up and dance.

My boys are a hit!

Chad is doing circles around the cheerleaders with Das Boot, singing to them.

Jared is still moving his weight from one foot to the other, backing up his more confident brother—looking sorta like he is about to have a heart attack.

And I can’t help but laugh.

When the song ends, the crowd goes wild, and Franks hands me the next note card.

I take the stage and say, “And now performing selected scenes from West Side Story, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Childress High School football team?”

Lex and a bunch of his teammates walk onto the stage wearing purple shirts and pointy dress shoes—snapping their fingers in a crouched sneaky position.

The rest of the team enters from the other side of the stage wearing the leather jackets and jeans—also snapping their fingers while in a sneaky crouched position.

What ensues is a street war orchestrated through fabulous dance moves, and set to heart-racing jazzy recorded music.

And as I watch the football team perform selected scenes from West Side Story, I am amazed by how good they are. They are frickin’ pros.

As the quicksilver of fake knives flashes, people in the audience are on the edges of their seats!

These boys were born to do musical theater!

Suddenly I understand why our football team never wins any games.

The Jets and the Sharks get a thunderous round of applause as they link arms and take a bow center stage, and I have to say, I’m impressed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say, “we’ve come to the headliner, which combines two very talented groups of people—people I know well and love very much. I give you The Korean Divas for Christ, Sister Lucy, and The Hard-Working Brothers!”

People clap as the curtain rises.

The strings and brass are set up stage right, the drums are deep center, The KDFCs are lined up on risers, tiered in all their golden glory stage left, and Sister Lucy is front and center holding a microphone.

“Come on out here, Sister Amber,” Sister Lucy says.

I carry BBB out to center stage, and Sister Lucy puts her arm around me.

“You know, they say the way to a woman’s heart is to give her enough chocolate,” DWL says, and the audience laughs at that one. “Before she knew I was a diva, when she thought I was just a door woman at the old people’s home, when she was homeless herself, every week Amber brought me a hot chocolate and a Snickers bar. Might not sound like much to some, but I liked it well enough. It was something to look forward to on Wednesdays. I’m sorry about what happened to your mom, Sister Amber. It ain’t right. So this one is for you.”

When Lucy lets go of me, I walk to the side of the stage, and an electric organ starts playing.

I look over by the horn section at the keyboard synthesizer and I suddenly realize that Father Chee is playing it—he’s playing with the band!

Sister Lucy starts singing and her voice is deep and rich and divine.

She’s singing about Mother Mary.

The KDFCs are doing these slow hand motions I didn’t teach them—and then they are echoing Sister Lucy beautifully, like pros.

They’re doing an R & B version of The Beatles’ “Let It Be.”