Rescue 911 We're Not

Because I didn't have enough going on already (sarcassim, sarcassim, sarcassim), I volunteered to help with the mock car accident the La Plata police department is putting together to scare all the high schoolers before they go to prom. I don't know how they got my acting professor's phone number, but they asked Becky if she'd help direct and scrounge up students to get all gory and dead-like.

Why would I not want to volunteer for this? I mean, really.

So, things keep changing all the time (I don't know how organized we are, but it's getting there), but here's the facts currently concrete:

* I play the little sister (ah, typecasting) of a guy who goes out, gets drunk before a basketball game, and then hits a little girl on a bicycle on the way to the game.

* Because the group decided it would be the most heartwrenching that way, I die tragically, along with the guy's best friend and the little girl (we voted to let the girlfriend live along with the driver).

* I don't get to ride in the helicopter.

That's basically all that we've decided for certain. The helicopter is for the air-vac from the accident (we gave it to Alex [the best friend] because he wanted it more than I did, though we both turned into seven year olds while begging for it) and we've actually all been promised rides in the helicopter after the "show" is over, if we want. I'm not even certain I get to be in the car, anymore, since I think they still want a dummy for the person completely trapped and in need of the jaws of life (AKA, me). I'm hoping I can at least be the chest compressions person during the hospital since I lost out on the helicopter.

Yes, I realize how weird it sounds to be arguing for this. Do any of you realize how cool I think this all is? I'm sure I'll break down into tears after it's all over with, but for now I'm obsessing over all the stage blood I'll be covered it, where I'm positioned in the car, and trying to get the cooler medical parts. What do you expect from a theatre major?