The Two-minute Audition

My wife saw an ad inviting performers to try out for an AMC television show. So I drove up to Mt. Airy, strolled inside the Andy Griffith Playhouse, put my name on a list and eventually found a seat … on the floor.

Not since leaving Nashville had I seen so many guitars in one place. And pacing uneasily around the foyer were all manner of makeup junkies with hair attacks teased high and sprayed hard, fishnets over chunky thighs, and spike heels with scuffs on the back. One eye shadow queen toppled across a guitar case with such a splat that 911 was called.

There were some guys, too, but not many.

After lots of trips to the water fountain, mostly from boredom, and almost as many trips to the Men’s room, all from necessity, I got on stage in front of some fellow.

“What do you do?”

“I tell stories.”

Thank God! … If I never hear another singer….” (dramatic eye roll)

I gave him two minutes of snippets from three stories. He liked what he saw and heard, invited me back for round two, and handed me a release form to sign and return.

Once home, I read all 25 pages … including how I would let a film crew into my home and workplace, let another crew ambush me whenever I might do or say something my mother wouldn’t approve of, and let his staff have free reign over any medical or other confidential records they might want.

“No” is an easy word to spell.

But I also wrote him a note:

Sir, if you ever get a real  job, give me a call.

Audition best viewed at Facebook: Stories by Lew: Audition Prep.

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