Weirdest-audition-ever-backroom-casting-couch

The bathrobe woman smiled for the first time. “Acceptance. Then stage six is ‘convincing the hamster to rate your performance on a scale of one to wheel.’ Stage seven is when you eat the meatball sub without asking whose it was.”

The subject line in the email was so vague it felt like a trap: “Unique Opportunity – Immediate Start – Discretion Required.”

She pulled her wimple aside to reveal a Bluetooth earpiece. “I’m a life coach. The habit is for ‘thematic consistency.’” weirdest-audition-ever-backroom-casting-couch

The nun cackled. “Oh, honey. We wish it was that simple. Just sit.”

“I’m not angry, I’m— wait, why is there a spreadsheet?” The bathrobe woman smiled for the first time

I looked around. This was insane. I should leave. I stood up.

I sat. The cushion immediately let out a long, wet fart sound. The woman in the bathrobe made a checkmark on her clipboard. “I’m a life coach

“Stage three: Bargaining,” whispered the bathrobe woman. “He’s trying to process the logic. Beautiful.”