“They’re ready for you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The room was small, stuffy, stifling. He sweat. How much recycled air was he breathing, from how many mouths reciting how many lines? His jacket and tie constricted and grew heavy.

           

“Hello,” said one of the three faces sitting across from him. “I’m Elia, the director.” Elia gestured left. “This is Lee, the writer.” Lee nodded. Elia gestured right. “And this is Irving, the producer.” Irving nodded with a smile.

           

“Good evening,” said the actor. “Thank you for seeing me.” He kept his hands clasped at his waist. He sweat.

           

“Your video submission impressed us,” Lee said. “Let’s hear the monologue.”

           

“Of course,” said the actor. What scene? What movie was this? The lines disappeared. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. The lines reappeared. Three chairs creaked as the creative team leaned forward. He raised his head and began.

           

The actor lost himself. He finished the monologue in a blink of his eye. What had he said? Was he shaking? The creative team leaned back.

           

“Very good,” said Elia. Irving nodded with a smile. Lee exhaled, closed his eyes, and nodded. “Let’s try an adjustment.”

           

“Of course. Would you mind if I took my jacket off? Something about it doesn’t feel right.”

           

“Not at all,” Elia said. “We know it’s stuffy in here.” His colleagues produced monogrammed pocket squares, mopped their foreheads, and nodded.

           

“All right,” said the actor. “I think I’ll remove my tie as well. Thank you.”

           

“Please, take your time.”

 

He heard their suggestions. He felt more uncomfortable than before, a knight stripped of his armor. He couldn’t put his jacket and tie back on now. What could he do?

“We’d like to hear it without the affectations. Not that your choices were inappropriate.” Lee and Irving vigorously shook their heads. “Not at all. We’d simply like to see you strip the layers and give us the bare essence of the lines.”

           

The actor understood completely.

           

“I understand completely. Before I begin again, would you mind if I took these off?” He gestured to his sweat-soaked shirt and pants. “They just don’t feel right.”

           

“By all means,” the creative team answered in chorus.

           

“These shoes, socks, and underwear just won’t work either,” the actor said. He folded his clothes. He stood up with a bright, glistening erection. His sweat streamed to the floor with no clothes to stem the tide. It pooled on the hard tile.

           

“Terribly stuffy in here,” Elia said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

           

“Thank you.” His nerves rattled. He delivered the monologue with adjustments. How he finished speaking without the reappearance of his lunch, he still doesn’t know.

           

“Wonderful adjustment,” said Elia. His colleagues knew they were seeing an exceptionally talented man. The actor’s erection quivered. His hands trembled, and he could smell himself.

“Let’s hear a scene. Lee will read with you.” Lee flipped through his script. Irving stared, smiling.

           

“Of c-c-c-course,” the actor sputtered. “B-but this sssssssskin…” The actor punctuated the “k” with such violence that saliva spattered the creative team. All three produced their monogrammed pocket squares. They calmly wiped their faces in unison. The actor looked down. He saw his body. “It just d-d-doesn’t feeeeeeeel r-r-right.”

           

“It’s no problem, take your time. Lee, do you have pages for him?”

           

The actor gripped his skin at the jugular notch with his right hand. He unzipped himself. Blood mixed quietly with his sweat on the floor. He slipped out of his arms with little resistance. He removed his face like a cheap Halloween mask. The sound of shuffling pages mingled with the sound of flesh separating from muscle and bone.

 

His legs were troublesome, like a pair of pants that had shrunk in the wash, but by the time Lee had found his pages, the actor had crisply folded his skin and placed it with his other clothes.

           

“Thank you, Lee. Just one more moment, please. These veins, and these tendons…and these muscles, and bones…”

           

“Take all the time you need,” Elia said. Lee looked up from his script and nodded. Irving smiled warmly.

 

 

“The three of us have been in this business a long time,” said Elia after the actor and Lee had finished their scene.

           

“A very long time,” Irving said with a chuckle.

           

“I can say with confidence,” Elia continued, “that this has been one of, if not THE, finest auditions I have seen in my career.”

 

Lee wiped away a tear, deeply moved.

 

“It is extremely rare for us to do this, but we’d like to offer you the role right now. Congratulations, young man.” Elia, Lee, and Irving beamed.

 

The actor, puddled blood and viscera, bubbled his response. He knew he had a brilliant career ahead of him.

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Andrew has a BFA in Piano Performance from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, and currently works as an accompanist with the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago.