In the Limelight.

The stage was an absolute mess. They were hanging the backdrop, painting the set, with the lights flickering from blue to red and then to yellow as the techs played with them.
"Glow tape," I muttered. "Glow tape, glow tape, glow tape. I am a stage manager. I am a stage manager. I am a stage manager."
"It wasn't in the light booth?" JC called down from the ladder.
"Looked there. None backstage either," I yelled back. "Justin, help a girl out, how about it?"
"Did you look in your loft?" Justin suggested.
My loft. Yes, it's completely mine now. I have taken it over, despite the myriad paint cans and brushes and stage miscellania that clutters it. No one is allowed up there but me. That loft is mine, yo.
"Where's my ladder?" I demanded a few moments later. The stage was newly-painted, and every available ladder had suddenly sprouted legs and gone off to join in the messy party. I made do with a chair, clearing it of its burden of paintbrushes.
"Is that it?" Justin asked, pointing.
"Nope. Masking tape," I answered, managing to pull myself into the loft. After a few minutes' untidy rummaging, I unearthed the glow-in-the-dark tape from the bottom of a toolbox.
"I am the best stage manager EVER!" I crowed, stepping around the paint cans and putting a happy dance into my step, trying not to fall off the edge as I did so.
"Justin!" Bradford yelled. "We need you!"
"Hold on!" he called back, and looked up at me. "You can get down, right?"
"Oh, sure," I told him. "I can get down. You go ahead."
"I'll be back in a few to help you, okay?"
"No way. I'm fine. Go on."
Famous last words.
Ten minutes later, I finally managed to get the paint cans out of my way and make enough room for me to lay down on my stomach and shimmy my way off the platform until my stockinged feet touched the chair.
Triumphant, I dashed out onto the stage, holding my prize over my head.
"Ta-DA!" I crowed.
And just as I spoke, the spotlight came on, shining right into my eyes.
The entire cast and crew burst into applause.