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In the week leading up to Christmas, the school was bustling with the kind of nervous energy that put teachers on edge and had students behaving more ludicrously than monkeys on acid. For their part, the teachers of St-Maria of the Wall had been working diligently on the Annual Christmas Pageant that was taking place tonight. In a few minutes, in fact. After three long weeks of neglected lunches, parent phone calls, late nights, painting a set and practicing, first year teacher Erwin Smith was ready for this evening to be done.
From backstage, his little kindergartners were behaving as expected: Sasha was stuffing her face, Connie was watching her, Armin was reading (the Bible, of all things) to Mikasa, Eren was siting cross-legged on the ground with Baby Alive while Levi doted over both of them, carding his little fingers through his best friend’s hair, Jean was imitating Eren off in the corner and Hanji was sharing her glasses with Krista trying to replicate her own unique aesthetic onto the cute little blonde. They had a few minutes before they would have to suit up for their performance, so instead of worrying about everything that could possibly go wrong with the evening, he went over all the hurdles they had already overcome to get his class to this very moment.
*** 3 weeks earlier ***
Mr. Smith took a seat in the large wooden rocking chair that sat at the far end of the multicolored braided rug as his kindergarten class looked at him expectantly. “As you know our Christmas Pageant is coming up in three weeks. For the next little bit, we will be practicing Frosty the Snowman.” He held up a large picture storybook that had seen better days, and displayed over-dramatically moving it in an arc from his left to his right. “How many of you here know the story of Frosty the Snowman?”
All hands go up, except for Eren’s. The green-eyed boy isn’t paying attention- again- too busy staring at his best friend’s new light up shoes as he hits them every few seconds with his tiny fist to see the blue and yellow bursts of light bounce off the magic carpet. Levi, who’s managed to keep his foot steady enough to remain rooted to his own spot has the tiniest of smirks on his face though he doesn’t make eye contact with Eren.
Mr. Smith is relieved that most kids know the story, and if they know the story, they must know the song. His task might be easier than he had anticipated. That is, until the little girl with the messy ponytail and big glasses cleared her voice and raised her hand.
“Mr. Smith, I watched two movies last weekend. One was Frosty, and it was supah boring.” A few kids nodded in agreement, but before they could break out into a conversation, Hanji silenced them by standing up to command all the attention in the room. “The other was about the Nativity story, and it was hilarious. I think, instead of doing Frosty, we should do the Nativity.”
What Nativity story had Hanji watched over the weekend? He wasn’t super devout himself, but he failed to remember where there had been any humour in the Christmas story. Would Hanji’s parents have let her watch Monty Python’s Life of Brian?
Since September, Mr. Smith had learned one thing for certain, and it was this: the apple never fell far from the tree. And if Hanji was, well, Hanji, it didn’t bode well for the sanity of her parents since she must have inherited it from somewhere.
“What’s Nativity?” Armin asked, pulling Mr. Smith out of his reverie. Honestly, he was a little shocked by Armin’s ignorance, the little boy had a proclivity for knowing the most random things. That being said, he was sure the little boy was not Christian (or at least a practicing one) since he had compared his reading of a chapter called Revelations from some big book to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
“It means being imprisoned!” Mikasa answered, excited. The kids got excited by the potential of violence being present in their Christmas Pageant.
“I think you mean captivity, Mikasa.” She was almost always wrong, but Mr. Smith admired her tenacity. “Armin, Nativity is the story of the birth of Jesus…” he started explaining. You could see the level of excitement leave the room by the way their little shoulders slouched forward and many of them held their faces between their knuckles as their elbows rested on their knees.
“I don’t see how that’s so interesting,” Eren began, “my daddy helps deliver loads of babies. He said it’s just a lot of screaming, lots of blood and crying.”
The kids on the carpet started cheering again and clapping their hands.
“I want to do the Nativity!” Connie exclaimed.
“Yeah, it sounds like fun! Like Call of Duty!” Levi supplied.
“How do you know- “Mr. Smith began.
“Uncle Kenny,” he shrugged in response. That explained so much. Though Levi was a very sweet child, his knowledge of colorful language and adult themes was staggering.
“No, no, no. It’s not like that,” Hanji interjected. “No blood, or crying.” Mr. Smith was absolutely dumbfounded. Of everyone in the class, Hanji was now the voice of reason, he had to jump in quick before she went off on some weird tangent and try to bring the students over to Frosty again.
“She’s right, it’s not at all like what Eren described.” He could see some of the students were put out again. “But there’s a star, and some animals, and an angel,” he explained, not sure why his voice was trying to make it sound more interesting than it was. While he did appreciate the story, all he wanted to do was to save himself the trouble of having the kids learn lines and find costumes they couldn’t make with a few glue sticks, construction paper and cotton balls.
“That doesn’t sound bad,” Sasha piped up, “I vote we do the Jesus story,” she said looking around for her peers’ support. “Anyone who wants to do Hanji’s idea, put up your hand.” She put her right hand up and soon, everyone’s hand went up, even Eren’s.
“No, wait. I didn’t say we were going to do the Nativity. We’re doing Frost-“ but what he was saying was drowned out by a dozen four-year-olds chanting “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” He breathed deeply through his nose and pursed his lips as he took in the sight of the kids marching and pumping their little fists around him like they were at some revolutionary protest. Why did students always assume that classrooms were set up as democracies? At worst, they were tyrannies, at best, monarchies, and he was their benevolent king. A small part of him worried that if he tried to explain this to them, they would revolt, and someone, probably Armin or Levi, would show up the next day with some crappy homemade version of a guillotine.
He tried for several minutes to calm down his class, but they were whipping themselves into a frenzy and he started fearing that nearby teachers would hear the chanting and assume they were committing some odd sacrificial ritual.
“Fine, fine, we’ll do the Nativity Story.”
“Yaaaaaay!” they cheered in response.
“Okay, I don’t have a book on this story, so you’ll have to listen carefully while I tell it; let me see your best listening positions.” Seeing the change of play shift from Frosty to Nativity as a solid victory, the students were satisfied enough to sit on their bums, hands on their laps, their eyes glued to him as he sat at the edge of the rocking chair.
He didn’t dwell on every single detail of the story to avoid losing their interest. He also didn’t want to overwhelm them with the political details around the census or talk of King Harod killing male babies (partly fearing some of the boys would want to include this part in their play).
Once he finished, he stood and made his way over to the whiteboard and started printing in large letters, a list of people in the story. As he wrote them out, he said them aloud.
“Okay, how about we start deciding on who will play who.”
Eren’s hand shop up. “What about Jesus? You didn’t say that name, so you didn’t write it down. You said Joseph, but not Jesus. I know it starts with a J, like J-J-Junk.” The little boy whipped his head to look at his best friend who had the same bashful expression on his face as they giggled into their hands for Eren having made a reference to his privates.
“Nobody is going to play Jesus, Eren.” He had assumed that since four-year-olds were very self-conscious about being called babies (since they were closer in age to babies than teenagers), that they would have Baby Alive play the role of Jesus. But given that these children would also be playing adults and animals, it wasn’t much of a stretch for them to want to play the role of the baby if it meant they were just “acting”.
“Levi can play Jesus.” Eren said defiantly.
“What?” Mr. Smith was speechless. Of everyone in the class, the kid least likely to want to play the role of a baby was the stern little black-haired boy.
“But look at him,” Eren demanded. Erwin did as he was told and appraised the little boy in his Metallica t-shirt. Was there some innate Jesusness he was overlooking? He opened his mouth to ask Eren, when the brunette said “he’s just so cute and so small.”
“Oi, you fucker,” Levi said pushing his friend over, so that Eren fell off his butt and was sprawled out exaggeratedly on the carpet.
“Levi, language!” Mr. Smith said exasperated. The grey-eyed boy stared in state of horrified surprise at his teacher then looked away quickly, as though he only just realized what had come out of his mouth. The kids around him were muttering excitedly, as they did every time Levi forgot himself. “What did I tell you about using that language?”
“To keep it at home,” he mumbled, jutting his lower lip out.
Mr. Smith took a knee before the tiny boy and lifted the little heart-shaped face to meet his own with his index finger. “You know where you have to go now, don’t you?” Levi nodded, and dusted off his pants before going to the nearby corner and sitting in the little plastic orange chair set facing the wall.
“No, we won’t be using a person for Baby Jesus, Eren. We’ll be using Baby Alive.”
Eren drooped his shoulders and drew his limbs close to his body where he sat on the ground. Clearly, he felt guilty and had not meant for his ‘small’ remark to be bait to get Levi in trouble. He liked Levi small. It made it easier to carry him when he pretended to be dead while they played The Walking Dead (Levi’s game) or when Levi needed to climb on his back to reach the monkey bars outside or even when they played wedding and Eren had to carry Levi over the threshold of their Little Tikes Cottage.
The class seemed to share in Eren’s displeasure when the green-eyed boy finally exclaimed: “Levi should be Joseph!” At the sound of his own name, the little raven turned his head over his shoulder to hear what his best friend had to say. “He’s an excellent Daddy when we play House. He would be able to take good care of Baby Jesus.” Levi beamed and turned back to face the corner. Mr. Smith could see the back of his neck redden as the little boy blushed hard.
It seemed the class agreed. “What do you say, Levi. Do you want to be Joseph?” Levi didn’t turn around, instead he shrugged, in what was supposed to be in a nonchalant way, but Mr. Smith could tell the part meant a lot to him, given Eren had suggested it.
“If Levi is Joseph, I need to be Mary.” Eren said matter-of-factly.
“No, I want to be Mary!” Petra said.
“But you have no experience being a Mommy. And Baby Alive doesn’t like you!” Eren retorted upset, his eyebrows pinched together.
“But I’m a girl. I should play Mary.”
“That’s not a good enough reason, being a girl.” Eren countered. “You still don’t know how to be a Mommy.”
“Yes, I do.” She sneered, standing up, towering over Eren’s sitting form. Before reacting to the threat, everyone’s attention was drawn away from Petra and towards the corner, where Levi was facing all of them, waving his hands frantically trying to communicate with Petra for her to be quiet. But too late, Petra continued. “Remember when you had the flu for four days two weeks ago? Who do you think took care of the Baby Alive?”
The hurt and shock in Eren’s eyes was clear as day. “You played House with her?” he accused his best friend in a shaky, disbelieving tone. Levi let out an uncontrolled moan as he crumpled under Eren’s scrutiny. Mr. Smith watched the scene unfold, at a loss of what to do, especially when Eren uncharacteristically turned his whole body as to not look at his best friend anymore and resigned himself to being quiet. Petra took it as a victory and sat down again.
“Boys, after we’re done planning our play, let’s have a talk to see if we can mend hurt feelings.” Yet another thing they hadn’t taught him in Teacher’s College. On his resume, he was sure he could add “Mr. Smith, mediator extraordinaire” along side “Cleaner of toilets for boys with no aim yet” and “Band-Aid dispenser for cuts not seen by the naked eye”.
“Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, Jean.”
“I want to be the donkey. Except, can we make the donkey a horse instead?”
“But the story clearly states it’s a donkey, Jean. It’s what Mary rode to get to the Manger. It’s what helped keep Baby Jesus warm,” the teacher explained patiently to the boy.
“Who would want to ride a donkey when you could ride a horse, Mr. Smith?” All the kids agreed with Jean. Oddly enough, so did Eren. “I am a great horse, Mr. Smith. Please give me a chance to be a horse.” The boy with two-toned hair pleaded. He was small enough (they all were), that maybe nobody would notice that he wasn’t in fact a donkey. He knew with kindergarten kids, he had to pick his battles; and this one wasn’t worth getting into.
“Fine, Jean, you can be a horse.” Mr. Smith said erasing the word donkey from the whiteboard and replacing it with horse.
“I want to be the Three Wise Men, Mr. Smith.” Armin said speaking with his hand up in the air. They hadn’t mastered the concept of waiting until the teacher called on you with your hand up in the air before speaking yet.
“That’s three people.” Annie pointed out in her bored voice.
“But I’m smart like three people.” He answered with his mischievous grin.
“Hey Eren, do you want to be one of the wise men with Armin?” Mr. Smith offered to try to cheer up the little boy who was still pouting from what he saw as an obvious betrayal from his best friend.
“If Eren is a wise man I want to be one too,” Mikasa said hooking her arm around Eren’s aggressively and then shooting a murderous glare at Levi who didn’t notice because he was still staring at the corner.
“Fine, we’ll have you three be the wise men.” Mr. Smith said, putting Armin, Eren and Mikasa’s names in the corresponding column. “Levi, your time out is done honey, you can come back to the magic carpet,” he said looking at the clock and noticing four minutes had gone by.
The little raven walked back to the carpet, brows furrowed and jaw set, determined not to step on any outstretched legs and made to sit next to his best friend, but both Mikasa and Armin squished next to Eren protectively denying him access. Eren refused to make eye contact with him and Mr. Smith could see that the rejection had hurt Levi. Unwilling to leave his friend though, Levi sat behind Eren and the teacher saw him extend an arm towards the stubborn boy’s back in a silent plea for forgiveness. Yes, he was definitely going to have to address this drama afterwards.
After more discussion, Sasha and Connie decided to be the shepherd and the sheep respectively and Historia wanted to be the cow because she said she had the perfect onesie at home to wear. Annie didn’t want to be part of the play at all, and asked if she could just sit the whole thing out. Mr. Smith had considered it, but the girl’s father was a strict disciplinarian and would be disappointed if his daughter hadn’t worked towards a part. They settled on her playing an angel and he guaranteed her that she only had a small role.
When he was sure they had covered almost everyone for parts, he noticed Hanji bouncing up and down. She had been abnormally quiet during the whole discussion and he was sure he was going to find out why now.
“You forgot to add the T-Rex, Mr. Smith. I want to be the T-Rex.”
He was sure he never mentioned a T-Rex while he was telling them the story. He ran through the narration again in his mind; no, he was sure there wasn’t any T-Rex. He went through all the various iterations of the Nativity Story he knew and there weren’t any dinosaurs in that story. Not even in Monty Python.
“Hanji, sweetheart, there are no dinosaurs in the Nativity Story,” he said sympathetically, as though the little girl had lost her mind.
“No, there is! I saw it this weekend, on the Mr. Bean Christmas Special.” And there it was. He had completely forgotten about Mr. Bean. She was right, there was a T-Rex. And a tank. And a helicopter. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly.
“If Hanji is a dinosaur, I want to be one too!” Connie and Sasha said in unison. Fantastic. He was going to have a mutiny on his hands. If not only from his class, definitely from some of the parents, whom he knew were rigidly religious.
“I’m sorry, Hanji, but we aren’t doing the Mr. Bean version with the T-Rex…”
“But it was my idea. I should get to pick the role I want.” She kind of had a point, though he didn’t want to concede this fact out loud. He wondered which would be the least offensive sideshow for Hanji to be without offending those watching this play. The dinosaur might offend the parents who didn’t believe in evolution. The tanks would offend those who were pacifists. He tried to remember if there was anything else. He kept looking at the girl’s determined face. The longer he waited the more resolved she appeared.
“We can’t do a dinosaur, Hanji.”
“Fine. If I can’t be the T-Rex, I want to be the Dalek.” Dalek, Dalek. Yes. Best case scenario, she could sit off to the side in her Dalek costume and nobody would know what it was. Better yet, there weren’t any huge anti-Whovian movements, were there? Surely there was no civil unrest dedicated to eradicating anything Tenant-related. That in itself, he decided, would be absolute sacrilege.
“That’s fine, Hanji. You can be a Dalek,” he agreed and she squealed, losing herself in her own happiness.
****
It didn’t take long after practices started to notice that things weren’t going smoothly. First, Mr. Smith and the kids had built a background by painting a large roll of paper they would tape to the back of the stage. What was meant to be a backdrop of peaceful Bethlehem ended up looking like Mordor. But the kids were quite proud of their handy work, so if it wasn’t in the aesthetic someone was hoping for, they could just leave the play altogether for all he cared.
Next, they had gone for a walk in the small forest that bordered the right side of the school to collect large sticks and build a small stable by tying the sticks together with twine. It looked basic, but it would do the trick, as long as nobody touched it too much.
Eren and Levi still hadn’t made very much progress towards becoming friends again; and yet they stayed in each others proximity, eating lunch together, playing beside one another (but not together), and sitting next to one another on the magic carpet. It seemed Eren was trying his best to make sure Levi understood that what he had done was a major no-no in their friendship. Even when Mr. Smith had tried to explain that they were allowed to have other friends, Eren adamantly pointed out that while he understood that (he had Mikasa and Armin after all), he wasn’t happy that Levi had played House with Petra since that was their special game.
As though wanting to drive the point home even more, Eren made things difficult during practice. As one of the Three Wise Men, he made a point to “share his wisdom” with Petra about how to best parent Baby Alive. He would advance towards Joseph and Mary with his fellow Wise Men, take a knee and instead of saying his lines, would say “Baby Jesus doesn’t like being held like that, Mary.” When Mr. Smith re-directed Eren by telling him to only say his lines, he uttered words from the side of his mouth while others recited their own lines: “When was the last time you changed Baby Jesus’s diaper?” Or “Baby Jesus is tired, Mary, can’t you see that?” and “ Baby Jesus looks like he’s lost weight, Mary, aren’t you feeing him enough?” It was enough to make Petra cry, but it did seem to save his relationship with Levi, when the raven agreed that Eren was a better Mommy to Baby Alive. One less hurdle, Mr. Smith thought.
After consoling Petra, the teacher decided he couldn’t risk having Petra cry on stage if Eren decided to say something disparaging to her. So, he came up with the only solution one could to silence any student who couldn’t learn their lines or risked ruining the play.
“Hey Eren, I have a great idea!” He began holding something behind his back. “I know you were bummed about not being Mary, but I think I have a better role for you.”
“Really. Even better than one of the Three Smart Men?” the little brunette asked excitedly.
“Yes, you’ll literally be the star of the show!” The little boy clapped his hands and jumped up and down, trying to see behind the large man’s back, “And you get to be close to Levi the whole time!” Eren gave a delighted squeal. “Here you go,” he said, showing the boy a large gold-painted star with a hole large enough in the middle to fit his face. He took the boy’s hand and led him to a stepping stool that was behind Baby Jesus’s manger.
“What are my lines, Mr. Smith?” Eren asked keen to be the best star he could be.
“The best part, Eren, is you have no lines to learn! You don’t have anything to say.” He told the four-year-old in the most excited voice he could muster. Eren bought it and Mr. Smith was relieved at last.
****The night of the play****
“Sasha, honey, stop eating,” he instructed the girl for what felt like the thirtieth time in the past twenty minutes.
His class was bustling with energy behind the stage, waiting for the rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer by Mr. Dawk’s kindergarten class to be done. He was glad Armin’s father was willing to help Connie’s mother put up the backdrop between the numbers so that he would have time to slide their stable into place as the school’s choir sang O Holy Night to set the mood for their own performance.
He had the kids get in line as they would appear in the play, so that he could help instruct them from behind the curtain. Levi lined up first in his uncle Kenny’s too large sandals, mother’s brown dress and towel over his head held in place with a large band. Eren stood behind him, dressed all in black, save for the sparkly star in which his face was pushed through. Petra should be next, but she wasn’t. Jean was dressed in brown with his horse mask and saddle hooked around his torso, Historia had on her cow onesie and then Sasha was there, dressed in her older brother’s Jedi outfit and for her crook had one of those enormous plastic ornamental candy canes.
“Where’s Petra?” He asked the students. They all looked dumbfounded, looking around one another.
“Eren, have you seen Petra?” He asked the boy suspiciously and then instantly felt guilty for asking. Eren was a sweet boy, a little hot-tempered sometimes, but he wouldn’t have done anything to her.
“Mr. Smith,” Connie’s mother said, approaching him, “Petra’s mom just texted me, she came down with the flu tonight and won’t be able to make it. She sends her apologies.”
Damn it, he thought, no virgin. He felt his stomach drop like a rock and asked Historia if she would want to take on the role, he could whisper the lines to her. Eren could even whisper the lines to her, given that he had memorized both Petra’s and Levi’s lines since he had heard them so much.
“But I make the cutest cow, Mr. Smith,” she whined. She did make a very cute cow.
“I’ll do it, Mr. Smith.” Eren piped up taking the star off his face.
“Are you sure, Eren?” He asked the little boy. Eren was sure, his face blazed with certainty. Mr. Smith was happy he had insisted they all get ready at school, at least that way, he had all the costumes should such a thing happen. He helped Eren into the blue housecoat, put a long brown wig on his head and then put the hood of the housecoat over top. Perfect, can’t even tell he’s a boy – he had such a pretty face. Eren beamed at him and took Baby Alive in his arms, cooing sweet words to the plastic head.
Everyone else got into position, and he had to tell Sasha to put down the candies she had brought with her in case she got hungry. He heard the crowd clap their hands after the choir had finished singing and then he and the parent volunteers brought out the set while the kids shuffled nervously in line.
He ushered Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, the horse and the cow onto the stage and waited behind the curtain with the rest of his class. He gestured to Eren to put the baby in the manger, but the boy vehemently declined, holding it pressed tightly onto his chest instead.
Pick your battles he reminded himself like a mantra, but not before the curtains parted, the lights came on and the crowd applauded. Eren and Levi instantly went rigid at the sound. Mary had a line, but seemed to be caught up in his nerves, until Mr. Smith saw Levi reach out his hand to grasp his best friend’s and then mouth a line to him. You could see the fear melt from Eren’s eyes as he finally said his line out loud.
Mr. Smith stopped holding his breath as he sent out the shepherd and her little sheep. Connie had mistakenly shown up dressed up as Ba-Ba Black Sheep but his teacher didn’t mind, it suited him just fine. As soon as he thought everything would go well, Sasha stopped abruptly mid-way on the stage. Connie halted beside her the moment he saw her grip her stomach and before the teacher could run out and stop her from making a mess, she vomited spectacularly on the stage. He heard the gasps from the audience, and caught the little bald boy groaning, a sure indication of his weak stomach. Before the audience had to experience another child get sick, Mr. Smith rushed onto the stage and picked up Sasah. Holding out the enormous candy cane to Connie, he pulled him behind as he walked off stage with Sasha cradled in his arms.
Once he had Sasha and Connie safely behind the curtains, he was given a large orange cone by Mr. Zackly to go put in the middle of their Nativity scene so that nobody would slip on the mess dead-centre on the stage. He sent in the two wise men, but not before Armin’s father handed him a birthday gift bag for him to bring along. What had happened to the three boxes he had wrapped in glittered giftwrap?
He was relieved when Armin and Mikasa had made it to their kneeling positions in front of the Holy Family without incident. The teacher sagged against the nearby wall, and felt a sudden lightness in acknowledging that after this, everything would work out.
“Please accept the gifts befitting the new King.” Armin said in a voice louder than he had ever heard the boy speak. Mikasa held out her hands for the bag while Armin dug through. Mr. Smith made the sign of the cross, and despite cringing, inwardly hoped for the best.
Armin faced the audience and at that moment, Mr. Smith knew, KNEW, that the boy had re-written his lines.
“Gold was a good gift for these parents since they couldn’t afford anywhere nice to have a king,” he said taking out a bronze statue of a bull that he must have thought was passible for gold and placing it in front of the manger. “But after researching frankincense and myrrh, I thought this would be more fitting.” He took out a massive book and gave it to Joseph.
“This is a compilation of classics. Reading is very important and Baby Ali-er, I mean Jesus should learn how to read. Inside he’ll find Frankenstein,” he said exaggerating the title – ah, that’s where that fit, “Little Women and Moby Dick.” At the last word, Levi and Eren burst out laughing, as did some audience members at their reaction. Eren accidentally dropped Baby Alive as he doubled over trying to catch his breath and the doll started to cry its merciless wails. He picked it up quickly and tried to quiet it, but something must have locked inside to keep it on this setting. Eren cooed it, rocked it in his arms while the whole hall was dead silent. One minute stretched into two (but felt like forty-five) and when the baby didn’t stop, Levi started singing the only lullaby he had sung to Baby Alive when they played House: Enter Sandman.
Because of the intensity of the Baby’s cries, he had to sing it loudly. Mary nodded at him encouragingly and passed him the baby. When it still didn’t stop, Levi did the only thing any rational person would do with a toy that had gone haywire, he grabbed it by the legs and walloped it against the manger, not once, not twice, but five times. It effectively quieted the doll, but the looks of horror in the audience were a sight to behold. Eren peered at his best friend with a side-glance and held his arms out for the baby. In his haste to be rid of the Jesus, Levi miscalculated the distance between he and Eren, and dropped the baby on the ground.
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Joseph exclaimed slapping himself on the forehead.
The hall had gone quieter than when the Baby was crying. Mary recovered first, taking the baby in her arms and tsking Joseph. Realizing he had used the kind of language that was not appropriate for school (or a play), Levi took his chair and dragged it noisily to the corner of the stable, turning his back to the audience.
Could anything else go wrong? Mr. Smith asked himself. I take that back, universe. Please, you didn’t hear that.
Satisfied things were back on track, Armin continued with his monologue by clearing his throat.
“Myrrh is an oil that is supposed to smell nice,” he dug his hand into the bag Mikasa was still holding, “but when you’re this poor, you don’t need nice smelling stuff as much as you need other things, like warmth. I found this bottle in my mom’s bedside table, it looks like oil, but the label says it’s jelly. If you rub it on baby Jesus, he will start to heat up. I tried it on my hands - it works.” He instructed jovially.
No, no, no, this wasn’t happening. He momentarily feared that Armin would put some in all their hands to prove his point, but instead, he put the bottle beside where the book and bull had been deposited. The crowd was now roaring and Mr. Smith could see Armin’s poor mother sinking in her seat covering her face with her hands.
Please let this be over soon. Please let this be over soon. He nudged Annie, whose turn it was, to go over to the Baby (that was supposed to be in the manger) and bless him. She was then responsible for wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. That’s it. That simple. They could do this.
He saw Mikasa and Armin move back to give her passage.
Nobody slipped in puke.
He nodded his head, counting down the minute it should take for the show to finish.
“Smile,” he whispered to Annie as she went onto the stage since she had refused to smile during practice. He glanced at the two wise men, and noticed Armin was whispering something into Mikasa’s ear. “Shhhh…” he hissed. He took his eyes off them for a second to notice the angel mumbling something so quietly to Mary and Joseph (who still wasn’t facing the audience) that nobody else could hear. When he returned his gaze to the wise men, he saw Mikasa’s eyes grow large in absolute terror and a little smirk grow on Armin’s face.
No. He can’t possibly know about what comes next. Armin had only read Revelations, not the rest of the Bible, or had he? Even so, he wouldn’t share that with…
“EREN! GRAB THE BABY! THE KING IS COMING TO KILL BABY ALIVE!” Mikasa shouted from across the stage. And that’s when everything fell apart. Quite literally.
No sooner had she rushed over to the wobblily structure, Levi stood from his chair and kicked it aside. He took hold of the stable, yanking out the two largest sticks (also supporting beams) and brandished them as swords as he rushed to cover Mary holding Baby Alive.
Mr. Smith rushed out onto the stage, not thinking about a single thing but to brace the stable that threatened to topple over, but his long legs accidentally kicked the cone out of the way, and he found his foot slipping beneath him on candy filled vomit. He fell onto his back as he saw the small branched structure fall onto Mary, Joseph, Jesus and one of the wise men, and the horse galloping off stage, neighing loudly. Before the little horse could find safety, he was met with a heavy dragging sound and the words “Exterminate! Exterminate!” as Hanji’s robotic voice carried all the way through the hall. The last thing he saw before Mr. Zackly was kind enough to draw the curtains was the bespectacled girl shooting fake laser beams at everyone in the audience.
*** Later that night***
“How’s your back, Erwin?” Mr. Zackly asked him back in his office.
“It’s fine. Is all the vomit off my shirt?”
“I think so, no wait, here’s a chunk of something, I think it’s candy cane.” He brushed it off with a wet cloth.
Mr. Smith had no idea what to say after this evening. He had humiliated the school, he was sure of it, but more to the point, he wasn’t sure if he had a job left at St. Maria of the Wall Public School.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Zackly, that didn’t go at all as planned,” he offered.
“I daresay you hadn’t anticipated the puking, the lubricant or the Dalek.”
“Only the Dalek, Sir. I’m so…”
“Quit apologizing Erwin. I know you’re sorry. That kind of stuff happens when you’re a teacher, you know. What’s most important isn’t that it happened, but how you reacted to it. You did fine. You didn’t shame the students, and they left pretty proud of themselves.”
Mr. Smith appreciated the kind words, but didn’t feel like they were deserved. It had turned into a complete shit show and the fact that he was still employed was a small miracle.
“That being said, the parents have very good things to say about you, well, except Alex’s father, he’s not fond of you for some reason, but they’ve all made a very special request that involves you.”
“And that would be?”
“That you follow their children into first grade.” Mr. Smith laughed, and searched his superior’s face for any trace that he was joking, but none could be found.