#8 Grace Music

The group was tired.  What had seemed impossible to achieve at the beginning of the first week was still proving impossible near the end of the second. 

Elaria was beside herself.  Never had she seen a clumsier group of men. They were oafs.  They had no idea how to use their bodies.  Their alignment!  

      "Échappé, I said!" she spat.  "Try!  One more time." She demonstrated the delicate maneuver with precise control.

         "From fifth position out to second. We will commence from the slow arabesque over your logo, through the enchaînement which, as we have been rehearsing for absolument days on end, is to pass all the way through to the exhaust replacement and beyond that to the wheel change, and then finally extend into the échappé that symbolises completion of entire pit sequence, so hold, hold, hold!  Now, to the arabesque; upper body straight, left leg stretched out to the left, turn it out and remember, respect the Renault!  So, on the count of three…."

The rehearsal pianist resumed dreamy impressionistic French music but it was barely audible over the thumping of the men stumbling around in their pointe shoes.  Loud cracks from sacs of synovial fluid releasing gas inside knee and ankle joints cut through the confusion; several of the men could do with an emergency course of fish oil and an osteopath.   

Elaria was disgusted.

      "The only grace here is the saving grace of your Sponsor who, after observing your training yesterday, has thankfully extended it," sneered the Grande Dame, surveying the chaos of the men attempting to disentangle their limbs from around the car and bracing themselves for more vitriol from her mean and violent tongue.  

©LolaPerrin2010