Puppet show (Five minutes freewrite)

The puppet is ready for the show. Waiting in the entryway to greet the first guests with a wave of the hand. Slightly jerky, but the guests take no notice.
I've trained her well. And yes, it's her, not it – she's dressed as a girl, can't you see. Said so on the invitations, too. If you look carefully, you'll notice a bit of make-up, too. Had to put on a bit of blush to cover the pale frozen expression on her face. What can you do, it's just a puppet after all.
The guests are noisy, as usual, laughing at jokes I know nothing about. I pull at the strings quickly, make the smile on her face as wide as it goes. A polite ha-ha, so they know she's following the conversation.
Now comes the tricky part – took me days to master carrying the tray of drinks, but now there's hardly any shaking of the puppet's hands. The guest smile as they pick their glasses and the puppet smiles back with her empty eyes. They marvel how well she looks and what a pretty outfit, so I have her twirl around a bit. That went well.

If you're not in the profession, you wouldn't know that moving the puppet around is the easy part. Really, all it takes is pulling the strings to move the legs – left, right, left, right... Just as easy as you move your own legs without having to think about it. It's just muscles and reflexes, that's all.
No, the hardest part is when the initial excitement dies down and, drinks in hand, they're waiting for the puppet to entertain them. I hate this part because I need to actually talk, pulling the strings is not enough anymore. I need to focus and follow whatever these strangers have to say, answer their stupid questions. Sometimes I find their conversation so unbearably boring I let down my guard and, even worse, let the puppet slump in her little chair, a crumpled piece of cloth staring at the floor. That won't do. What kind of show is that if the guests are allowed to see the puppet for what it really is? I have to keep the magic alive. Show must go on as they say.

The lot today is a particularly dumb one – talking in those phony voices you use when speaking to toddlers or old people who aren't all there anymore. Asking my poor puppet if she thinks she'll ever get married and waiting for a silly answer so they can laugh some more. Not very loud, you know, no need to be rude. But still, funny as hell.. just imagine...what would it know about love?
Takes me all of my professional discipline to keep the puppet from telling them to just fuck off, already! That would be too much of a giveaway – they cannot be allowed to notice the puppeteer at any time. The illusion would be torn apart, they'd realize it's just a painted face they've been talking to. They'd want to know about ME, the one inside the puppet.
Quick, I make the puppet smile like an idiot and run for the exit.
Safe in her room, the puppet collapses on the bed and we cry.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: the entryway. Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Image: Pixabay