The Paper Cake: Audition!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Audition!

I forgot to talk about my theatre company audition that I did on Tuesday!
I'm gonna make this quick though because I'm really hungry so I want to go eat something. So here we go!
So right after school I went to the theatre and Crystal, Candice, Ashley, Tanner, and Erik were there. Then we did this warm-up thing where we stretched and warmed up our voices and stuff like that. It was pretty neat. I did feel wayy more relaxed after that. Then everyone who was there (around 15 people) went into the back room and waited for our turn to do our monologues. I was like the 11th person to go I think... It was so late. XD So when I went out onto the stage, Mrs. Brazzill and two other girls were sitting in the audience seats. The two other girls were like the stage managers or whatever. So this is how it went down:
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: So what are you going to be doing for us today?
ME: Um... a monologue? Haha.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Why does everyone say that?! *little lols* What's it called?
ME: Betrayal.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Okay then. On you're own time.
ME: *cough, cough* *does monologue, forgets one part for a little bit but remembers fairly quickly, has good emotion like quavering voice, moves around a bit* *bows when finished*
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Good. Now could you read this sonnet by Shakespeare? It's about blahblahblah.
ME: Sure! *reads perfectly with emotion*
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Very nice. You're very good at reading Shakespearean language.
ME: Thanks. :3
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Now if you had a circus, what would you call it?
ME: Cirque du Awesome.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Okay so we want you to prance in a circle and introduce us to your circus and tell us what we'll be seeing in it today! Go!
ME: *runs in circle* Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to Cirque du Awesome! Today you'll be seeing the elephants, the clowns, and the tightrope walkers! I hope you enjoy the show! *bows*
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Very good. :) So do you have any talents?
ME: Uh...
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Do any sports?
ME: No.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Dance?
ME: No.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Sing?
ME: No.
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Good hand-eye coordination.
ME: Yes!
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: So can you juggle?
ME: Well, uh-
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Well, can you throw a ball in the air and catch it?
ME: Yes. *lols*
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Can you do a cartwheel?
ME: Yeah. Well, not a very good one. I mean, I can do one, but it's not excellent...
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Good, because we're going to be doing circus acts this year. *excited*
ME: Awesome!
MRS. BRAZZILL AND GIRLS: Yeah, it is. :D Thank you, that's all. Now could you go call your brother out here?
ME: Sure. XD
So I think I did really good! On my monologue at least. And the Shakespearean sonnet. The circus thing could have been way better. And I seemed like I was underselling myself when they asked about the talents. :S Oh well. So on Monday the callback paper is posted so we can see who comes to callbacks. Then at callbacks everyone goes on stage so Mrs. Brazzill can see how we take direction and stuff like that. I hope I make it! I hope Erik makes it too. Because if only one of us made it that would be really awkward. I'm sure I'll make it in... I mean if Ashley and Cheryl did... I'm a way better actor than them. But there are so many more people who signed up for theatre company this year. >.< Like 70 people signed up! My gawd. So much competition.
Good luck to me!
Wow, that was hardly quick.

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Robot Boy

Mr. and Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.
They were a normal happy husband and wife.
One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.
Mrs. Smith would be a mom,
Which would make him the dad!
But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.
It wasn't human at all,
It was a robot boy!
He wasn't warm and cuddly
And he didn't have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
Not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all
Was with a long extension cord
Plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
"What have you done to my boy?
He's not flesh and blood,
He's aluminum alloy!"

The doctor said gently,
"What I'm going to say
Will sound pretty wild.
But you're not the father
Of this strange looking child.
You see, there still is some question
About the child's gender,
But we think that it's father
Is a microwave blender."

The Smith's lives were now filled
With misery and strife.
Mrs. Smith hated her husband,
And he hated his wife.
He never forgave her unholy alliance:
A sexual encounter
With a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy
Grew to be a young man.

Though he was often mistaken
For a garbage can.

~Tim Burton

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

He proposed in the dunes,
They were wed by the sea,
Their nine day long honeymoon
Was on the isle of Capri.

For their supper they had one spectacular dish -
A simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
Her bride's heart made a wish.

That wish came true -
She gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human?
Well, maybe.

Ten fingers, ten toes,
He had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
But normal?
Not quite.

This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
Was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.

She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."

"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
You cannot blame me.
... Have you ever considered, by chance,
A small home by the sea?"

Not knowing what to name him,
They just called him Sam,
Or sometimes,
"That thing that looks like a clam."

Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?

When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
They called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.

One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main.
He watched the rain water as it swirled
Down the drain.

His mom on the freeway,
In the breakdown lane,
Was pounding the dashboard -
She couldn't contain
The ever-rising grief,
Frustration,
And pain.

"Really, sweetheart," she said.
"I don't mean to make fun,
But something smells fishy
And I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
You're blaming our son for your problems in bed."

He tried salves, he tried ointments
That turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
And tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.

The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
But the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
Would help you do it for hours!"

He came on tiptoe,
He came on the sly.
Sweat on his forehead,
And on his lips - a lie.
"Son are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
But do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?"

Sam blinked his eye twice,
But made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.

As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.

The buried him quickly in the sand by the sea -
Sighed a prayer, wept a tear -
And they were back home by three.

A cross of grey driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
Promised Jesus would save.
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.

~Tim Burton

Mummy Boy

He wasn't soft and pink
With a fat little tummy;
He was hard and hollow,
A little boy mummy.

"Tell us, please, Doctor,
The reason or cause,
Why our gundle of joy
Is just a bundle of gauze."

"My diagnosis," he said.
"For better or worse,
Is that your son is the result
Of an old pharoah's curse."

That night they talked
Of their son's odd condition -
They called him "a reject
From an archaeological expedition."

They thought of some complex
Scientific explanation,
But assumed it was simple
Supernatural reincarnation.

With the other young tots
He only played twice,
An ancient game of virgin sacrifice.
(But the kids ran away, saying, "You aren't very nice.")

Alone and rejected, Mummy Boy wept,
Then went to the cabinet
Where the snack food was kept.

He wiped his wet sockets with his mummified sleeves,
And sat down to a bowl of sugar-frosted tanna leaves.

One dark, gloomy day,
From out of the fog,
Appeared a little white mummy dog.

For his newfound wrapped pet,
He did many things,
Like building a dog house
A la Pyramid of kings.

It was late in the day -
Just before dark.
Mummy Boy took his dog
For a walk in the park.

The park was empty
Except for a squirrel,
And a birthday party for a Mexican girl.

The boys and girls had al started to play,
But noticed that thing that looked like papier mache.

"Look, it's a pinata,"
Said one of the boys.
"Let's crack it wide open
And get the candy and toys."

They took a baseball bat
And whacked open his head.
Mummy Boy fell to the ground;
He finally was dead.

Inside of his head
Were no candy or prizes,
Just a few stray beetles
Of various sizes.

~Tim Burton

Stain Boy

Roy, the Toxic Boy

To those who knew him -
His friends -
We called him Roy.
To others he was known
As that horrible Toxic Boy.

He loved ammonia and asbestos,
And lots of cigarette smoke.
What he breathed in for air
Would make other people choke!

His very favourite toy
Was a can of aerosol spray;
He'd sit quietly and shake it,
And spray it all the day.

He'd stand inside the garage
In the early morning frost,
Waiting for the car to start
And fill him with exhaust.

The one and only time
I ever saw Toxic Boy cry
Was when some sodium chloride
Got into his eye.

One day for fresh air
They put him in the garden.
His face went deathly pale
And his body began to harden.

The final gasp of his short life
Was sickly with despair.
Whoever thought that you could die
From breathing outdoor air?

As Roy's soul left his body
We all said a silent prayer.
It drifted up to Heaven
And left a hole in the ozone layer.

~Tim Burton

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Audition!

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