Okay, I had the CRAZY idea to write a fic. I had to write about something that was special and meaningful to me. I ran out of ideas and was thinking about the other fics I wrote and was thinking about the many actor fics I've writen and thought: "Hey, what the heck? I'll write one for McCree O'Kelley!"
So here is my fic dedicated to the wonderful Mistoffelees on tour: McCree O'Kelley.
Everything in this fic is completely fictional. If there happens to be ANYTHING that is offensive or inaccurate (where needed) let me know!
Psst....tell me what you think! I need to know!!!!!
R-R-R-I-I-I-N-N-G-G!!!!!!!!!!!
The loud noisy mechanical alarm clock rang at seven that morning.
Sometimes I hate you. McCree thought to the usually lifeless, but now very much alive, alarm clock.
He slammed his hand down on the clock and the loud clanging of the bell stopped.
McCree rolled over and pulled the covers up higher over his head.
He groaned and was about to fall back to sleep when there was a knock on his room door.
"Who the heck?" he asked himself.
He rolled out of bed, bedhead and all, and unlocked the door to reveal David Blonn.
"Dave, what do you want?" A very tired McCree asked.
"Dude, you know your stupid alarm could wake up the dead!"
McCree rolled his eyes. "You say that everymorning. What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter, but you usually sleep past your alarm and are forced to run around like a chicken with it's head chopped off. So I'm here to keep you awake!"
McCree laughed a very tired laugh. "Thanks. But I really don't think I need..."
"I'm gonna go get ready!" Dave turned to leave. "See ya at the theatre!"
McCree shook his head and closed the door.
He was a nice guy and was always willing to help, but sometimes he didn't know exactly how.
He stretched and walked over to his dresser and started to get ready for the day that lay ahead.
"Stupid cover! C'mon!" Grant Turner wasn't having the best of mornings. He had slept through his alarm, his shower had gone cold and now the lid to the gray face paint base wouldn't come off.
"Having trouble Grant?" McCree asked, half-way done with the white face paint base.
"A little. Could you help?" He asked holding out the stuck make-up jar lid.
McCree put down his brushes and and wiped off his hands before taking the jar and attempting to unscrew the stubborn lid.
After a few moments, McCree successfully unscrewed the lid.
"Thanks." Grant said and turned back to his make-up station.
"No problem." McCree replied and turned back to his own make-up.
"You know, sometimes I forget that this is my job. It doesn't seem it." Grant said.
McCree nodded. "I hear you. I thought a job was supposed to be this boring, long, dull thing that you just happen to do everyday and get paid for it."
"You forget that we get paid to do this." Grant added.
McCree nodded.
After a while McCree was done with the white base and moved on the black details.
Soon practically everyone was done with their make-up and putting on thier costumes.
The show would start in just a few hours.
During warm-ups, McCree went down into a split and shifted his position and ended up in a stradle.
Stan, who was Rum Tum Tugger, came over and looked down at what looked like a very uncomfortable position.
"McCree?" He asked.
McCree looked up, perfectly comfortable.
"Hi Stan."
"McCree, how can you do that?" Stan asked.
True, Stan was pretty flexible, but he could never go into a complete stradle or split.
"Like this!" Came a voice.
Stan and McCree looked over to see Shylo all done up in her Victoria costume.
She easily and gracefully moved into a split, then a stradle, next to McCree.
McCree laughed and Shylo smiled triumphantly at Stan.
Stan just shook his head and walked away.
McCree got up and sat next to Shylo.
"I still can't believe you can do that!" Shylo said, rolling over and lying on her back, facing McCree.
"Why not? You see me do that all the time." He said.
"I know, but still. I can never get over the fact that anyone who plays Mistoffelees can be so flexible!"
McCree shruged. "Go figure!"
It was a week-day show, it was surprising that the show still sold out!
McCree walked to the wings of the stage and snuck a peak at the audience that was beginning to fill up.
Some audience members were standing near the stage taking a few pictures of the set.
McCree sighed and walked backstage.
He checked the clock on the wall, half an hour to showtime.
There was really nothing much more to do but wait.
"Great show everybody! See you tommorrow night!"
The cast was getting cleaned up and McCree had finally caught his breath.
"See you tommorrow McCree!" Sharon Huneycutt, who was Bombalurina said as she walked out next to some of her friends.
"Bye Sharon, bye girls!"
Bryce picked up his bag and turned to leave.
"See you later McCree!"
"Bye Bryce!"
Almost everyone had gone home when McCree got up to leave.
"McCree you still here?" Shylo asked.
"Yup, I'm just leaving now. I'm beat!"
They walked out together. They signed out and as thay walked out through the security, there were two ladies there.
Probably waiting for someone...but who?
The younger one of the two spoke up.
"Um...does anyone know if McCree O'Kelley is still here?"
McCree stepped forward and said, "I'm McCree."
The girl's face lit up like a Christmas Tree and stammered for the right words to say.
"Hi, um...I'm a big fan and this is my first show to see CATS on stage and I was wondering, could I have your autograph?"
"Sure?" He replied. This is kid is kinda odd, but she's cute nonetheless.
She held out a pen and a notebook with a black cat on the cover to him.
"Does it matter where?"
"Nope, anywhere is fine!" She was pracitcally about to faint from shock at this point.
"What's your name?"
"Ashley." She quietly replied.
He signed it:
To Ashley,
Best Wishes,
McCree O'Kelley
"Wow, thank you very much!" The girl said.
"Can we go now?" The other lady asked jokingly.
"Oh I guess so." She said and the two walked out of the theatre, the girl still starry eyed.
McCree climbed into bed and set his annoying alarm to 7:00
He thought about the girl's face and how it lit up when he told her it was him she was looking for.
I wouldn't ask for a better job McCree thought as he slipped into a deep sleep.
McCree,
It's not much I know, but I HAD to do something to thank you for the autograph.
I can't express my graditude enough!
Like I said earlier, this story is fictional...except for the part about you signing the autograph. If anything here is offensive, I'm DEEPLY sorry and I'll fix it for you!
Thank you! Keep dancing and have fun with the rest of the tour.
