The hamster rolled into my foot. I looked down. It stared up at me with tiny, ancient eyes, and in that moment, I understood nothing and everything.
The hamster, currently rolling in its ball near the meatball sub, squeaked.
“He’s already moving to Stage two: Anger,” she noted. weirdest-audition-ever-backroom-casting-couch
And there it was. The Backroom Casting Couch.
“The producer will see you now.”
The nun squinted at me. “His aura says ‘desperate but hygienic.’ I’ll allow it.”
Gerald the Avocado rolled closer. “Okay, Marcus. Here’s the deal. This isn’t a porno. It’s not a thriller. It’s a new immersive art installation called ‘The Couch of Truth.’ We need someone who can improvise the Seven Stages of Existential Dread while a live hamster observes.” The hamster rolled into my foot
I didn’t get the part. They went with a mime who had a more “authentic breakdown.”
I sat back down. Not because I wanted to. Because my body had entered a state of shock. The hamster, currently rolling in its ball near
“Password?”
“And the avocado?”