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Remember SuperFishie and the Amazing Curriculum?

Remember SuperFishie Thwarted?

The latest installment in the Adventures of SuperFish :

I wrote eleven scripts. Roughly nine pages each. The first was performed last weekend. They had hacked it up quite a bit and cobbled in some other things, but the essence was still very much there. They even managed to rehearse, something they NEVER do. The timing on everything WE could control was excellent. A few hiccups here and there, but overall a pretty good job.

But now I sort of understand how a screenwriter feels when he gives his product to a producer and director; it's out of my hands. My work product is now subject to being mutilated by someone who hasn't quite got the vision. That's okay, in a way, because people never see the same thing in a script. I get that.

But they nixed video segments, which the Kahuna has been griping at us for NOT having, because apparently the video people don't care to work with us, or something. Uncooperative, is all I was told. A shame. To replace video Bible Story segments, they asked a person to just pretend to be the reporter and tell the story, a singularly un-reporter-like thing to do. It didn't come off theatrically. However, I can't even say that with all confidence, because the children, when they got to the "TEST" part of the script, were able to answer some of the questions correctly.

They also hacked out the Object Lesson, another thing the Kahuna has been nagging about.

And somehow, there is no "Hero Homework" take-home cards, not even the plain cardstock with plain print to go home with the kids. I worked my butt off on that.

Additionally, the scripts that were supposed to be written by the new chick? She never did them. She put it off and put it off for a month, so I volunteered to do them, and churned out four scripts in two days. Did anything happen to said lazy-ass coworker? Two guesses.

There were three scripts to finish the whole curriculum. I was ready to start on them yesterday. Instead, here's basically what I got in my e-mail from the director: Thanks for all your hard work. Stop writing scripts; I'm going to do them myself and get them all done by tomorrow. If you have anything else you've written send it to me and I'll see if I can use it.

Huh?

Not only did they rip my stuff up, but apparently after I'd written eleven scripts, she wants to do the last three? She who hasn't even got her SET finished? She who hasn't figured out how to do major segments of the performance, so she dropped them? She who can't get the sound people to record the scripts properly, who can't be bothered to answer questions, who can't give a straight answer?

Fish has been dismissed.

And the worst thing is that I'll be in the new theatre to see the hack job in all its glory EVERY WEEK, because I am now scheduled to be the door person for this event every Sunday.

I've found my kryptonite.