CHILDREN'S THEATRE

Recently God, a friend of mine asked me to be ‘Spiderman’ at her son’s third birthday. I instantly jumped at the chance, as I love that kid to death, and to see a smile beam across his face would mean more to me than any other gift i could possibly give him. I have spent so much time away from friends that it it’s the least i could do.

As the hours passed since making the decision to honour my friend and her son with my talents.... I became increasingly anxious... that awful heart-racing, stuttering feeling you get when you aren't settled. What is causing my hands to tremor, my heart to patter and the vein in my forehead to protrude ferociously..... oh.....that’s right..... CHILDREN HATE ME.

Even as a child, children hated me... and it has just seemed to stick. Sure... they eventually warm to me, like men warm to the idea of ‘commitment’... but I’m never out of the dark entirely and one foul move, one step out of line - and it’s Armageddon.

I remember being in the Sixth Grade, strutting around the school as Vice Captain.... I should’ve been Captain, but they always gave that honour to a girl... I know right.... 80’s reverse sexism. I know what you’re thinking God... I had to be popular with children to become Vice Captain. It took 6 years of abuse and ridicule before my fellow classmates saw the true me. The years I spent being chased home by the thugs in the years above me. Even kids in younger grades took the liberty to throw their unwanted fruit at my head at recess. I didn’t really blame them back then though... as I was usually strutting around in a gold lamay shirt or choreographing some dance routine with the ‘physical culture’ girls. But by Year Six, I was somewhat cool... or at least a little bit everyone’s friend that they voted for me to be the top chief on the playground.

Even with my exclusive ‘Vice Captain’ badge, pinned onto my collar, and an air of royalty surrounding me, it did not make me invincible from causing tears in the other children around me. Some kids would just start bawling their eyes out if they even saw me walk in their direction. Some lunch times, I would scan across the jungle gym, and it looked like a scene from the bloody holocaust.... a bunch of frightened 6 year olds, freaking out that ‘Kieron’ was on his way.

As the years went on, the curse of being the ‘Antichrist’ hovered over my head like the plague. At 15, I began my first introduction to being a professional performer at a theme park in Sydney called ‘Australia’s Wonderland’. It was a big deal for me, but alot of hard work. 6 shows a day, performing to every different kind of human being possible.... and ALOT of children. Rich children, poor children..... skinny children and chubby kids.... all of which would stare blankly at me while performing. The second my fellow cast mates would announce to the crowd things like ‘Everybody, clap your hands’, or ‘Is Fred Flintstone over here kids?’..... the audience would hoop and holler like a bunch of psychos... but then I would pull my microphone to my lips and yell things like ‘Are you having a good time!!!’, and the silence from the auditorium was as chilling as if i was performing in front of corpses lined up for their autopsies.

Yes, I just didn’t have the flare, the spark to engage a child, the natural ability to make them feel relaxed and at ease. instead, when I sang and danced, kids opted to clench their fists and grind their teeth, and somehow think demonic thoughts about fire and cutting things.

Their was once a time, when I was performing at the ‘Carols in the Domain’, a massive outdoor concert the weekend before Christmas. I was performing with the children’s group, ‘Wendy & The Wombats’. It was my second gig with them, my first being earlier that morning where I had to answer phones at a local telethon in my Wombat costume. I had drunk two bottles of bourbon the night before, so on television, I appeared to slur my words as I had to announce the money some wonderful people had kindly donated to a children’s hospital. Now, sporting a massive hangover, I had to perform in front of 4000 people, decked out like a homeboy Wombat. Yes, I was cast as ‘Warren Wombat’, who offered the rapping rhymes to the children’s songs. We had to sing live as well, so there I was... on stage.... giving my best Kanye West to songs like ‘Never Smile At A Crocodile’, when this 10 year old kid stands up and yells out .....

‘Get Off Poofter Wombat!!!!’

The crowd roared with laughter, and soon others around joined in with a few taunts.

Despite the humiliation of that performance, it wasn’t long until I was back up on the stage... but this time, I was covered from head to toe. Yes.... I was B2 in ‘Banana’s In Pyjamas’ - In Concert. This gig required me to prance about, with no personal contact whatsoever to the audience. The suit did all the work... all my job was to wave my little arms and ‘appear’ to be motioning the dialogue.

The first few run through went quite smooth, and my disguise allowed kids to be fooled by the performer hiding beneath.

Our first show was at 11am at the QPAC in Brisbane. 2000 kids and their parents filled the grand theatre, and the cheers were so loud, you could practically hear them from space.

The lights dimmed, them music blared, the announcements were made......

“Ladies & gentlemen, boys & girls.... Please welcome to the stage... the Banana’s In Pyjamas!!!”

It was like an Elvis concert, the shrill of the screams were deafening, and B1 and I bounced onto that stage as if we wereAustralian Idols. This was going to be piss easy. The kids were eating it up out of our massive yellow banana hands. I was there, in my spotlight... finally getting the deserved recognition from children I so desperately craved for. I was finally as cool to kids as Barney The Dinosaur, I was a legend, i was....... ummmmm...... what was that sound?........ ummmmm...... oh God, i can’t stand up....... what is that metal pole sticking into the back of my neck...... oh God....... I'm on my face.......

With such enthusiasm, i had un-welded the head piece from the rest of the suit, leaving the supporting bars to dig straight into my neck and back. i was in so much pain, the weight of the loose head was pulling me over. I shrieked in my suit like a hairy girl getting her legs waxed for the first time. The kids faces turned from absolute delight to absolute horror at the sight of B2’s collapsed form stumbling across the stage.

“Mum...... dad...... what’s happened to B2?!!!!!!!!!”

Their sheer joy turned to panic and horror. For the next 30 minutes, B2 was Quasimodo.... limping and squealing across the stage.

That day was a dark day for the human race.... I think my performance lead to many a kid lose their magical connection to talking fruit.

It wasn’t the only time that my performance as one of the ‘Banana’s in Pyjamas’ lead to children questioning their banana loving beliefs. There was a time where B1 and I had to meet competition winning kids after the show. We were ushered out to a private room where 20 or so kids were waiting with cameras and autograph books in hand. We entered the room, and the usual squeals accompanied. The B2 suit hadn’t been washed for a while, and had gathered a bit of dust which wrecked havoc with my sinuses during the show.

We cuddled kids, and eagerly posed for photos with them. Kid after kid lined up for their slice of attention, when suddenly a build of mucus was making its way up my nose. I tried to hold it in, with whatever means I could. Being in this close proximity to children meant we couldn’t utter a single word. I fought, and tackled the urge. I summoned every ounce of might to hold that sneeze in. The second I was confident that the sneeze had subsided, a huge bellow blasted from my nose and mouth that scared every human in the room, spraying the kids in front of me with snot that infiltrated through the mesh of the mouth piece, sending it in a thousand different directions. Their little eyes welled up with water, and their bottom lips started quivering and within a few seconds, the room was awash with the sounds of cries.

My last ever gig with the ‘Banana’s’ was the day after my best mate, Glen’s 20th birthday party. We had taken him out for a night on the town, and I had taken my luggage with me as the next morning, I was to go to the airport and fly to a little country town called Griffith. The night had been so big, that I didn’t make it back to any-ones house to get a few hours sleep and freshen up, instead leaving the nightclub, straight for the airport, just in time for my 30 minute flight on a propeller engine plane. Arriving in Griffith was a blur... i had to sober up and fast. I arrived at the theatre a little early, before my cast mates. I decide to put on my banana suit so i wouldn’t feel rushed and hideaway in a little room, where i found a fan. I sat in my suit, letting the fan blow cool air onto my face through the mouth piece which what i used to see through.

Suddenly, I woke in a panic.... was that the show going on in the background?.... who is banging on this door? Without knowing, I had locked the door behind me and had fallen asleep. The cast hadn’t even bothered to find me, as one of my usual pranks was to hide up until the last minute, and then bound out onto stage at the last minute. Well..... i didn’t bound out this time... and B1 was left alone onstage to mime to two banana roles. I raced to the stage in a sprint that would’ve clocked a world record, and the audience was mystified. It was only about 3 minutes into the show, but for the poor boy in the B1 outfit, 3 minutes felt like an eternity. I got through the 3 shows that day.... barely, and received my notice directly after the third performance.

God.... you’d think I wouldn’t put myself through this torture again, but you see.... children’s entertainment is where the money is. I need to do it to pay the rent.... no matter how bad or scary I am to the youth of today.

Disney was casting for a 20 minute production, a medley of all the favourite characters, singing and performing all the classic Disney songs, before a screening of their latest hit movie. Every singer and dancer in Sydney was auditioning as they needed 40 people. I soon won the role of ‘Aladdin’, a big role compared to many others. I had to perform the song ‘One Jump’, which they needed me to swing from a balcony on one of the sets, and land on a podium just off stage in a section of the audience. It was a big distance, and they spent hours perfecting it with me, getting the timing perfectly right as I actually had to fly over other cast members heads, and land safely enough to not decapitate any audience member in my path. Once in the audience, 3 guys dressed like Arabians with swords would chase me back up onto the stage where I would finish the song to a thunderous applause.

The song was a massive hit with the crowd, and was my best performance to date. I loved playing the cheeky ‘Aladdin’ and my relationship with performing to children became solid.

Decked out in a full black wig, Arabian little hat, harem pants, and jewels, i looked like I was ripped from the screen perfectly. Children, night after night were fooled by my whole presentation, and for once, i had made children believe that ‘Aladdin’ was not just a figment of someone putting pencil to paper.

It was a Saturday matinee and the crowd was buzzing. The show had commenced, and the crowd was introduced to characters from ‘Beauty & The Beast’, ‘The Little Mermaid’ & ‘Pocahontas’. My moment had arrived, it was going to be bigger than ever. My energy bounced around the room, filling the big space within the theatre. I clambered across the set and made my way onto the balcony part where I would grab the rope and swing. I huddled in tight to the rope, and pushed off, the wind streaming across my face. I clear everyone’s heads safely and its time to let go and land on the little podium amongst the throws of adoring cheers from the audience. My hands let go of its tight grasp and my body heads toward my spot, only to feel a jolt from my head which had been pressed against my swinging apparatus. I land perfectly, but the audience had drawn to an eerie silence, and the once familiar shuddering of pre-hysterical children is again in view. I reached for my head, and realise, that the rope had caught onto my wig, and as I fell, the wig and little hat remained swinging, perfectly embedded in the fibres of the rope. I stood there, with only a stocking cap on my head, bobby pins jutting out where they had once pinned that wig on my head.

Adults comforted their children, covering their eyes from the animated massacre before them. What could I do? I had no choice but to continue performing to the pre-recorded soundtrack, which was drowned out by the laughter of my fellow cast. I was brought back down to earth.... I was not meant to be a children’s entertainer.

So God.... here I was. About to give my friend and her child the opportunity to have ‘Spiderman’ make a celebrity appearance at their party. With the experiences from the past still running continuously through my head, I had to tackle my fears one last time.

I tried to engage with as many kids before I got ‘suited up’ as possible. They were loving me. i helped with the tattoo’s, I shoved chocolate crackles down their greedy little mouths.... using any method to butter them up before my big moment. I sculled about 4 glasses of wine, and decided that the perfect time had come.... Spiderman was about to enter the building.

The Spiderman suit was a lycra number, which was obviously meant for someone with bigger pectorals, smaller waist and shorter body. Nonetheless.... I was going to make it work.

I took my position near the back fence, and crept in silently. The kids were all running around on their sugar fixes near the ‘Spiderman’ themed jumping castle.

One child spots me, then several more, until every child had stopped bouncing and was staring in my direction. I commando roll toward them and shoot out my hand as if I was spraying my magic ‘Spiderman’ web up to the tress that lined the garden. On the roll, the back of my suit tears open slightly to reveal my ‘Spiderman’ undies I had worn specifically for the party.

Every child’s face starts to screw up, and tears begin to pour down their little faces and they all run in anguish behind the jumping castle, away from the freak in a blue cat suit and red mask. Parents ran to their child’s aid, assuring them that I was somehow a nice freak, and that they should come out and join in the fun. The birthday boy was the most freaked out of all, which saddened me a little as all I wanted to do is be his idol and have him enjoy his special day. The party had a “Spiderman’ cake, ‘Spiderman’ posters, ‘Spiderman’ toys... and lets not forget the jumping castle which was now acting as the safety haven for all the mortified three year olds.... but as for ‘Spiderman’ himself.... a big blue flop.

Parents went into damage control, pleading with their distressed spawn to come out of hiding. One of the kids, also dressed as ‘Spiderman’ came over and started to take some lollies out of my hand. Suddenly, by bribing them with sugary treats, ‘Spiderman’ was suddenly making head way. My friend brought out a pinuata, and asked me to hold it high so the kids could take their turn trying to open it. To my delight, it wasn’t a regular pinuata, where you had to smash a bat for it to break apart. Instead, the bottom had many strings, which when pulled, one would open the casing for treats to flow out.

I hold the pinuata up high, and realise, not only is the blue lycra see-through and everyone can see my undies, as well as the gaping hole at the back of the costume.... but when I lift my arm up, the shortness of the body makes me ‘camel-toe’, the seam of the unitard splitting my balls apart, one left, one right. I stand there in absolute agony, my testicals on full display for parents and children to gawk at, until one of the kids finally gets the thing open.

It took a while for the birthday boy to come around..... but he did. We posed for photos, and high fived... until it was time to say goodbye. He ran up to me, put his arms around me and said ‘Thankyou Spiderman’. Under my red mask.... tears welled up in my eyes. I had done it. I had made the boys day.

The experience hasn’t cured me from the past, but I certainly don’t have the fear of upsetting children as I once did, because I now realise, while at first I may send kids to a psycho ward.... they come around..... eventually.

So God.... I put this to you now. If in the future, my destiny has me lined up to be a superstar for the pre-teens, I need you to put on my resume...

DISCLAIMER - Kieron Kulik....... needs an hour or so...... it’ll get there.

Thanks God.... chat soon.

Oh, and if the little boy with the dream of being a superhero is reading this...... it was my pleasure.

KK xx