Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom that belongs to Butch Hartman or The Producers that belongs to the ever brilliant Mel Brooks.

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Date: April 4, 1936

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The streets of the ever bustling Concord City were filled with people. Though a depression had swept the nation people in Concord seemed to be doing all right. In fact, the city's Porter Theatre was poised for a first in the history of the theatre, a musical directed by a woman. That woman was named Esther St. James, a former choreographer who had been made director when the original director had passed away. She seemed quite capable for the job and was ready for the show's opening night.

"Okay, I'll be back after rehearsals," she said, leaving the apartment she shared with her sister and brother-in-law.

Though she was in her mid-thirties, Esther was still very attractive and was engaged to be married a month to the day after the show she was directing opened. Opening night was just a day away and tonight was the final dress rehearsals. Esther walked out toward the street but didn't see a car coming. She turned when she heard the sound of the engine. Esther didn't have a chance to move as the car struck her.

The young woman hit the ground from the force of the car. The driver emerged from the car and raced to Esther's side, checking to see if she would respond to him.

"M'am, can you hear me? Somebody get a doctor! M'am, m'am, m'am," he shouted, with desperation.

Esther never responded to the man or to the doctor when one was found. She passed away. This put such a damper on the show that was to be opened the following night the producers decided that no one would mind if a show written by an unknown and directed by a woman wouldn't be missed. The theatre lights were dimmed, the cast was disbanded and the money was refunded to the investors. This brings us to the present day…

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Mr. Lancer was giving the class a lecture on the classic The Grapes of Wrath when a student walked over and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lancer said, as the door opened as the student walked into the room and handed a note to Lancer.

Lancer looked at the note and began to talk again, "I almost forgot about this. Class, if you'd please, I'd like to introduce the school's new head of the drama department, Miss Pamela Charles."

On those words, a woman, about 35, walked into the room and got a lukewarm response,

"Hello, as Mr. Lancer said, my name is Pamela Charles and I am the new head of the drama department. And I am here to tell you about the school's spring production. The show will be my personal favorite, The Producers."

Tucker looked back at Sam and Danny and said, "Oh, that is a great movie."

Danny responded, "Never heard of it."

"What?" Tucker asked, somewhat shocked at what Danny had said. "Never? I could've sworn I brought the entire collection of Mel Brooks' movies to your house one night."

"Was he the guy who did the Star Wars spoof?" Sam asked, joining into the conversation.

"Yes!" Tucker responded, now annoyed at his friends lost memories.

"Oh, yeah, I remember," Danny said, chuckling. "Those guys used combs to comb the desert."

"Mr. Fenton, Mr. Foley and Miss Manson, Ms. Charles is trying to inform the entire class of the spring show!" Lancer said.

"Thank you, Mister Lancer," Miss Charles said. "As I was saying The Producers is an award-winning musical about two producers that try to make more money off a flop. For those of you who will be auditioning you will get the whole story but for those who don't just won't get the whole story."

Ms. Charles reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of papers.

"These are the times for auditions. I'm hoping to see all of you there."

With that Ms. Charles left the room.

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After school Danny, Tucker and Sam were walking down the hall to find the sign-up sheet for The Producers' auditions.

"So, are either one of you going to sign up?" Tucker asked.

"Are you kidding?" Danny said, backing away from the sign-up sheet. "And sing in front of all those people?"

"Danny does have a point; I'm not trying out either."

"Why? You can sing," Tucker asked.

"Yeah, but the only characters that are girls are either ancient or sluts."

"What's wrong with that?" a new voice said.

The gang turned to see the running form of Eric Ridley, the resident theatre nerd, and his best friend, Ashley Saxon, coming down the hall.

"I'm signing up for the show," he said, happily writing his name on the sign-up sheet.

"Can you even sing?" Sam asked.

"I've known to," he said, proudly.

"Yeah, and you keep those bricks from the neighbors coming," Ashley said, shooting down her friend's moment.

"You're dad caused that," He shot back, defensively.

"No, that was you."

"It was your father," Eric said, trying to reinforce his defense.

"Oh, look at the lovebirds, isn't it sweet?" a new and more annoying voice entered the conversation.

"We are not lovebirds!" Danny and Sam shouted in unison

Dash Baxter and his friends were standing just a stone's throw away from the group; he looked at his friends and said, "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to those two."

Eric and Ashley exchanged looks and shouted back, "We are not lovebirds!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Have any of you losers signed up for the show?" Dash asked, hoping to get a laugh from this.

"I did," Eric said, proudly.

Dash, Paulina and Kwan started to laugh at the smiling Eric as Kwan asked, "Can you even sing?"

"I've been told I could," he answered.

"By who? Your mother?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah," he answered. "She's not the best critic, is she?"

Everyone shook their heads and all three groups separated without incident but what the supposed losers didn't see was Dash, Paulina and Kwan sign up for auditions.