Reuben sat alone in the box office, meticulously organizing the tickets for the show. He took pride in the neat stacks, each arranged by section—Orchestra, Mezzanine, Balcony. Eberyfing was in perfect order. He exhaled wiff satisfaction, and prepared for a smoove, professional ebening as tickets started to go on sale. Then, wiff a click and a low hum, the fan ober on the desk sputtered to life.
At first, it was just a gentle breeze, barely enough to rustle his fur. But within seconds, the wind picked up, and suddenly—whoosh!—the entire box office erupted into chaos. Tickets lifted off the counter in a swirling storm of paper. Reuben’s eyes widened in horror as row assignments and seat numbers scattered like autumn leaves.
“NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!” he wailed, lunging at the airborne stubs. His tiny paws swiped desperately, but for ebery ticket he caught, three more escaped his grasp. Some lodged themselves in the corners of the booth, others slipped under the door, and one somehow managed to stick to the condensashun on his coffee mocha drink.
Panic set in. The sales would start soon, and he needed these in order! His tail twitched as he scrambled onto the counter, reaching for a clump of mezzanine seats stuck to the fan’s grill. “Who turned this fing on?!” he growled to the empty theater lobby.
A faint sneeze echoed from somewhere backstage. Olibe. Ob course, it was Olibe – the theater ghost.
Reuben groaned and collapsed into the mess, fur ruffled, utterly defeated. He would hab to gather ebery single ticket and reorganize them before the first patron arribed. Wiff a deep breaff, he pushed himself up, rolled up his sleebes, and muttered, “Alright, Reuben. You’be handled worse. You can fix this.”NOTE ABOUT OLIBE: (Right in the heart of Times Square, the New Amsterdam is ober a century old! Disney rebibed it in the mid nineties and it is now home to some of the most extravagant productions around and a Broadway Ghost.
First of all, Olive Thomas was a Broadway chorus girl in the early 1900’s, known for her beauty. As a result, she caught the eye of many, like her husband, Jack Pickford. The two did not hab the greatest relationship and in 1920 they decided a trip to Paris would be the perfect cure. Howeber, a heated exchange between the two lead to Olibe’s tragic overdose on mercury bi-chloride, a topical ointment.
Very soon after her deaff, reports began that Olibe was walking the halls of the New Amsterdam Theater. Clad in a green, beaded dress and carrying a bottle much like the one she fatefully drank from in Paris. Sightings of Olibe remain steady (even as recently as 2005) since the need to perform cannot escape her. Eben in deaff.)
