Write a little something to do with: the agent.
Winter cover crops have been seeded, most of the leaves in the yard have been raked, and there's even a reasonable amount of firewood in our backyard box. It's been a good day.
The text had arrived on my phone while I was still cooking breakfast, just a few minutes before noon. I'd tried sleeping through my hangover but that hadn't worked out particularly well, so I was preparing to kill it with greasy goodness. The message had eliminated that option with impressive efficiency.
Audition booked @ Timmon's Theater 1pm
I was out the door so fast I spent the majority of the fifty minute trip to the theater wondering if I'd remembered to turn off the stove. The rest of the time I speculated about the role, the movie, the leading lady who would be working opposite me.
My big break. This had to be it. I had done the training, the legwork, sucked up to the right people, shook the right hands. Hollywood was a game and I was playing by the rules. Success had to follow, that was all there was to it.
So when I stepped out of the taxi and saw the schmucks huddled outside the theater I only grew more confident. This was my competition? Please. I could sleepwalk through this audition and still blow them all out of the water.
I strode inside, not bothering to hide my smile.
Which just meant it died a very obvious death when I realized that the auditions were for the newest commercial commissioned by ex-lax.
I called my agent and fired him on the spot.