Bob and Booker
The studio door burst open, and Booker Springs strode in. The casting director looked up at him.
He looks the part, she thought, He's tall enough, black hair, blue eyes…
The young man sat down in a folding chair across from the casting director and laid a wooden baseball bat across his lap. The director nodded to herself, a lot of people brought lucky charms to auditions.
" What is your name?" she asked.
" Booker K. Springs." He answered, smiling broadly.
The director handed him a copy of the script.
" You're auditioning for the part of Lance Boroughs, the lead attorney, correct?"
A look of bewilderment crossed Booker's face, " That's exactly what I'm here for! How did you know?! You must be psychic!!!"
" Mr. Springs, it says so here on your paperwork. You do remember filling out the information questionnaire for my assistant, Bryan, don't you?"
" So, what's the story with the bat? How did it become your luck charm?" the director asked.
" Oh, he's not a lucky charm… His name is Bob, Bob the Bat. Bob is my friend, sadly, my only friend." Booker answered.
The director smiled politely, " Mr. Springs, could you just turn to page thirty-five, and begin scene twenty-three?"
Booker flipped through the script. When he found the scene, he stood.
" … What a deeply scandalous thing to say, Mr. Johnson! I insist that you take that back!" Booker began, gasping and waving the script dramatically.
" My client was never at Krispy Kreme! The security camera proved it! My client never hurt anyone, and he never robbed the Fairview Heights Krispy Kreme!"
After another dramatic pause, Booker picked up the bat and shook it at the casting director.
" Do you want the truth?! Do you want the truth?!… YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!"
The director wiped a little saliva off of her face, " Mr. Springs, that last part wasn't in the script… At least not in that script anyhow."
Booker clutched the baseball bat like he were choking it.
" DID YOU HEAR THAT, BOB?! OH, MY GOD!! AGAIN!! I HAVE FAILED, AGAIN!!! NOTHING IS EVER GOOD ENOUGH, IS IT?!" Booker began beating the folding chair with the baseball bat.
" I… Hate… My… Life!!! I… Hate… You… Bob!!! I… Hate… You!!!"
The director's assistant pushed open the rear door, " Doris, do you need anything?"
She pointed toward Booker, " Security, if you wouldn't mind, Bryan."