Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [145]
“We’re gonna get to film in some pretty exotic locations if we get this,” said one particularly disheveled scumbag wearing a do-rag and a Molly Hatchet shirt.
“Exotic locations?” I thought as I fixed my suit. “The show takes place in New York City.”
Then a PA showed up with a clipboard, and after asking my name said I wasn’t on the list.
“But I have an audition.”
“For what?”
“ Cashmere Mafia.”
He smirked and told me I’d made a mistake and was standing in line for the pirate movie.
So I went over to the proper line, ready to impress and get the part. I’d worked on the scene for a week and felt great about my chances. It was a dramatic part and I’d dropped in by remembering how I felt when Horshack, my pet goldfish, died when I was six.
I was full of emotion as I started my performance. “I can’t believe she’s dead. Leprosy is a terrible disease, but I never thought it would—”
“ Arrrrr be darrrr! ”
Wawazat?
I wasn’t sure what I’d just heard, but whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let it affect my performance.
“I have to come to terms that she’s gone forever and—”
“ Shiver me timbers! ”
What the hell was that? I composed myself and continued.
“But I will always love her and—”
“ Walk the plank, matey! ”
“I need more growling, guys!” yelled another voice through the paper-thin wall. “You’re pirates, give me more pirating! ”
I forged ahead. “She will always be the wind beneath my wings—”
“ Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! ”
“Is anybody else hearing this!?” I snapped at the moon-faced casting director.
“Well, of course I hear it but if you can’t concentrate, maybe you’re not ready for this part?”
She was right. I wasn’t ready to read with the crew of the Black Pearl peg-legging it next door. It didn’t matter as my career was on its way down to Davy Jones’s locker anyway.
No matter how good or how bad I was, I just couldn’t catch a break. Over the next few months I auditioned for parts in The Oh in Ohio, The Believers, Beer League, Beerfest, Into the Blue, The Dukes of Hazzard, The Devil’s Rejects, Knocked Up, Transformers, X-Men 3, The Longest Yard, Wild Hogs, Meet the Spartans, Shoot ’Em Up, The Fog, Gone Baby Gone, and Banana Hammock Boys Gone Bad (actually I did get the part in Banana Hammock Boys ). That’s a combined gross of $1,265,367,185 for the movies I didn’t get cast in.
I’m the bizzaro Samuel L. Jackson.
I hadn’t booked a job in months and was getting quite discouraged, when a call came in from the Sci-Fi Channel offering me a part in a movie called Android Apocalypse. It wasn’t exactly Transformers, but it was the first offer I’d received and I was thrilled. I was visiting Chad and Speewee in Calgary and had to be on the set in Regina the next day, so the producers arranged for a limo to drive me the five hours so I could make my early call time.
Chad had wisely suggested that the limo company provide me with pillows and blankets so I could sleep during the trip. They set up a makeshift bed on the floorboards of the spacious car, and as soon as we started driving, I dozed off.
A few hours later, the car slowed down and I heard the driver say he needed gas. I looked out the window and saw it was 3 a.m. and we were stopped at a Shell station besieged by a swarm of teenagers. I laid back on the floor and closed my eyes.
Suddenly someone started banging on the windows.
“Hey, it’s a VIP! Who’s the big shot in the limo?” an obnoxious voice slurred.
I was completely flummoxed Goldust™ that the driver had decided to stop in the middle of a sea of drunken kids and totally pissed that the dipshit wasn’t even gassing up the car, but was inside buying a Coke instead. Then the yelling intensified and the door of the limo flew open. A chubby farmboy wearing a Clint Black sweatshirt stuck his head inside the car and said, “Who’s in here??”
“Get the fuck out!” I threatened as I untangled myself from underneath the covers. I had taken my shirt off earlier and his eyes widened in amazement as he saw the naked man squriming on the