Weirdest-audition-ever-backroom-casting-couch Today

I pointed at the nun. “Is she really a nun?”

The door swung open. A man named “Stavros” – fake name, real gold chain – led me down a corridor lined with faded headshots of people who clearly never got the part. At the end was a heavy velvet curtain. He pulled it back. weirdest-audition-ever-backroom-casting-couch

So I did it. I sat on the farting couch. I performed the Seven Stages of Existential Dread, culminating in a whispered monologue to the hamster about my fear of being forgotten. The hamster ran on its wheel. The nun cried. Gerald the Avocado gave me a standing ovation. I pointed at the nun

The nun cackled. “Oh, honey. We wish it was that simple. Just sit.” At the end was a heavy velvet curtain

And there it was. The Backroom Casting Couch.

The bathrobe woman smiled for the first time. “Acceptance. Then stage six is ‘convincing the hamster to rate your performance on a scale of one to wheel.’ Stage seven is when you eat the meatball sub without asking whose it was.”