[ WP ] While performing in a play , you suddenly realize that the props are not as fake as they appear , but it`s too late to warn anyone .

I am a tree. 
 
 More specifically, I am in a tree-shaped costume in the school's annual play, *Ms. Jamesworth and the Mystery of the Lost Tea Kettle. * Belfront School for Gifted Children had quite a list of wealthy donors, the biggest of whom decided to reinvigorate the school's drama program. Big industrial-grade lighting, sound-system, recliners for the audience, and beautiful wooden ceilings. The only catch, courtesy of said donor, was that every year, one class from school was required to perform an excerpt from the *widely lauded* Ms. Jamesworth Mystery Novel series. 
 
 Not that I gave a rat's ass about where the damn tea kettle is. ( it's in the cupboard ). My most pressing matter was this abortion of a tree costume. 
 
 Everyone from the school faculty had to participate in the yearly school drama program. Promotes teacher-student relations supposedly. I happened to be the home-room teacher for the the third-graders of this year. Being 6'1'', naturally I was chosen to represent the *much-coveted* sinister oak tree for the final scene of this thrilling case. 
 
 What they do n't tell you about the costume was the itch. 
 
 I knew it was a bad idea. It was one of the few costumes passed down from the previous drama department, but years of use and improper storage accentuated it's wears. Peeling fake-barks with the dark inside-suit peeking out, and torn branches from the head. The color of the costume was n't even entirely brown, but oh god the inside. The costume had a body-suit like tightness to it, with two slits for eyes and a breathing whole covered by a fake leaf in the front. My arms were the two big strong branches extending from my sides, one of which had a fake red apple tied onto it. ( I'm an oak-tree for christ-sakes ) The holes make it worse when your sweat and body-steam have only those openings to escape from. 
 
 My whole body itched. My arms, my head, my legs, and my crotch. All over my body I have these damning itches. Little prickling sensations that get worse and worse the longer I stand. When the whole point of your role is to stand still, and look like a menacing plant, it becomes a problem when you ca n't scratch your nether-tree-region in front of the parents and faculty. 
 
 So here I am, stuck in a oak-or-apple-tree-body-suit with hundreds of eyes looking in my general direction. Thankfully this was the final scene, with Ms. Jamesworth, ( played by Betty ) apprehending the criminal ( Bobby ) under my broken head-branches and big, strong, one apple producing branches. 
 
 Betty began: 
 
 *itch* 
 `` I have you know you scoundrel!'' ( I saw Bobby's head turn, but my visions a bit strange ) 
 *itch* 
 `` Your biggest mistake was, the, um, the `` ( Jesus christ kill me now ) 
 *itch itch* 
 `` The cupboard! The cupboard handle had chocolate stains from your cookies on them!'' 
 *itch itch itch* 
 `` I've called the police, they should be here... Mr Ryan?'' 
 *itch itch* 
 
 I can not scream, I can not move. I think everyone's screaming now. I supposed I ruined Ms. Jamesworth's mystery. 
 
 I ca n't hear that well. The slits are getting smaller and smaller. 
 
 I am a tree.
