When I was twelve I played a maid in a godawful 'youth drama' production of Nicholas Nickleby. For my audition piece I chose to recite Humpty Dumpty, but forgot the words. This role (which I was offered only because the original maid dropped out), is the height of my acting career to date, but last night I was feeling optimistic.
Luckily we didn't have any milk in our house so I volunteered to pop to the shop to get some. I walked, uncaringly, straight through the hoards of people who had gathered to watch the shoot, taking long determined strides, yet appearing completely nonchalant, (like a nonchalant antelope - a nonchalantelope, if you will,) thus proving to the director my ability to exercise sheer control and professionalism in a situation that would render others hysterical.
They shouted "action" as I passed so I kept my pace for a bit in case they were filming me, because obviously I didn't want to ruin the shot. As it turned out they weren't filming me, so I casually dropped my shoulder and doubled back to watch. They were filming the house; a little girl opened the front door and shouted back "it's no-one" and then looked around the garden. Then a man behind the camera waved a red jumper in the air and the girl started screaming and ducked down covering her head. I see two possible interpretations: either the jumper was made of wool, which she is allergic to, or some goblins with switchblade knives and broken bottles will be computerly added afterwards.
So wondering why I still hadn't been approached by anyone asking me to be in the film, I went off to the shop and got the milk, all the while practicing my articulation (tip-of-the-tongue, lick-of-the-lips, piece-of-the-pie, etc.). On the way back I stood and watched this little girl doing more screaming. I had forgotten to wear my watch, but I pretended to look at it anyway, demonstrating my general acting skills, my versatility regarding green screens (the watch could be added afterwards), in addition to implying I had somewhere more important to be. Then I sauntered slowly home, making sure they could see which house I lived in.
They did not, as it happens, turn up at the door asking me to be in their film. I went to bed thinking that ultimately this was for the best as I wouldn't want the burden of fame.
But today, i found a piece of gold tinsel stuck down the leg of my tights. This actually happened for real, I did not make it up: tinsel? Tinseltown? Coincidence? (co-tinsel-dence?) I think not. I am taking this as a sign that in fact I am destined for stardom. Next time I will be more aggressive, perhaps just keep running in front of the camera until they let me be in the film.