Call me Butterbuns – J. A. Bove

Well friends, I have to admit this was a new one for me. The other night I was invited to attend my first ever mystery dinner theater. I truly had no idea what to expect, but assumed it would be a good time. This is why you don’t ever assume. Say it with me – because you make an ass out of u and me. Don’t get me wrong, all in all I had a wonderful time, I just didn’t expect to be the entertainment.

When we first arrived I knew I would be in a for an interesting evening. I saw a man dressed as a sheik, not common in the Tampa area. I saw another dressed in a tux, man was I under dressed, and others yet were dressed in costumes ranging from the Phantom of the Opera to the roaring twenties. I knew we were going to a ‘billionaire’s ball‘, but I didn’t realize how serious people take these events.

We check into the theater and grab a drink by the bar. I told the wife that we better come up with a cover story as to how we made our billions, just in case we were put on the spot by the actors in the group. Boy was I lucky I at least had that frame of mind going into this event. I had no idea what was about to come my way. We were escorted to our table and had a seat with our friends. I just happened to sit near the center of the room, which in turn proved to be a big mistake.

Shorty after we sat, one of the actors approached my friend sitting to my right and placed a hat on his head. She started giving him all these instructions and he was totally lost. This was to be expected – he doesn’t speak a word of English. I made the mistake of explaining this to the woman when she took the hat from his head and placed it on mine. You’re Butterbuns, she told me. I pleaded with some other friends to take the hat, but like the big cowards that they were, they refused. I came here to be entertained, not to entertain. So be it, I’m Reginald Butterbuns. Who comes up with this stuff?

My wife assured me it wouldn’t be so bad … and then we get handed a book. Now in this book I’m to learn the back story of my character, why I had motive to kill, and what I was supposed to do. Work the room you say? Make grand speeches you say? Study your answers because people will grill you, what? Right about now I wished I didn’t speak English. The show must go on!

All said and done, I did my part. I worked the room, I got people on my side, and best of all I won the best actor award for the evening. What, little old me? I had to admit, I did have a lot of fun, and I really got into my role. I played a wealthy entrepreneur who didn’t kill his businesses partner, he just paid someone to do it for him. One of my goals was to get the audience to vote for me to be the president of the billionaires club. Who knows, maybe saying the line ‘vote for Butterbuns‘ over and over again got drilled into some heads.

Bottom line, if you ever get invited to go to a mystery dinner theater go with caution. You may end up serving the lines instead of being served. Would I do it again, maybe. At least I would know what to expect this time around, but is that really  for the better? Who knows, but it did make for a memory I’ll not soon forget.

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