"Welcome to the Doctor Oink-Oink Show!" the television blared. Children's voices sang the theme song to the most popular children's show which credited itself to be a step ahead of all other children's shows. The show not only taught the children morals and built their vocabulary, but it also introduced them to the "real world." It taught that children about the good and bad people in the world.

George Knist felt a sudden urge of nervousness in the pit of his oversized belly, covered only half by his dark blue tee-shirt, which rested on his thighs as he sprawled himself on the couch. His form was a revolting image of a man who had not taken the time to take care of his hygiene. His long locks of pitch black hair were beginning to grow to his shoulders which were about the only source of movement George had left in his arms.

He had applied for an audition for the "Doctor Oink-Oink Show" and he watched it with a sickening obsession which had reach to the point of insanity. He had memorized every tagline spoken by the oversized pig suit with a stethoscope hanging from his neck and a white doctor's coat around his body. George knew this was his only chance to have anything that may resemble a job.

George knew that the man in the pig suit didn't have to be beautiful, why else would they hide his face? There were no requirements or reasons for the director and producers to not except him. His excitement grew as he thought about it more. The commercial break ended and the show resumed. George extended his basketball shaped head towards the television screen. All other senses fell out of his mind. He could only see the screen and hear the sounds erupting from the speakers.

George's mouth began to follow the show. He had seen this one before, but he didn't care. This would only help him more. He could have gone to the station and reenacted this entire episode for the producers in a heartbeat. He knew his audition was soon and he had to prepare.

George struggled his way out of his house towards his mailbox. He displayed an unusual haste. A neighbor turned her concentration from her flowers to the blob fighting to get to his mailbox. She was filled with a sense of disgust and pity, but mostly just disgust. How could someone let themselves go like that? She wondered to herself as she called out, "George? Are you okay? Is there something wrong?"

George could sense the farce tone of her worry. His enormous cheeks morphed into a grimace as he tried his best to answer in a neighborly fashion, "I'm fine Mrs. Bins. Nothing is wrong."

Mrs. Bins's yard was kept to the highest standards of the neighborhood. Her flowers won almost every state fair since 1990 and her yard was awarded the honor of being the best kept yard in the community for thirteen years in a row. Some say she cheated because of the horrid, disgusting, overgrown yard just over her tiny three foot high wire fence around her lawn. It was true; George had not so much as trimmed a blade of grass in his yard since he had moved in. It now appeared a grotesque jungle full of full of God knows what.

Her body shifted away from him and she just nodded and returned to her plants. She had to look away for fear she may vomit if she stared too long.

George's hand shot into his mailbox. He furiously fumbled for his prize. He found a small white envelope addressed to George Knist. Up in the left hand corner was a simple sentence: The International Television Corporation cares about your children!

George held the single letter in his hand letting the rest of his mail float to the dark asphalt that burned the bottoms of his inflated, bare feet. He had grown up with the ITC. They had provided him with all of his life goals. Which as of right now he only had one, and that was to join them on their campaign to help children reach their full potential. Contained in the envelope was the letter which either allowed him to audition for the part of Doctor Oink-Oink, or it denied his request and he would walk into his house, pull out his pistol from the hall closet and send a bullet through his head.

He stumbled his way back into the house. Mrs. Bins watched him as he abandoned his pile of mail on the bare street. She meandered towards his mail. She was feeling particularly nosy at the moment and she was willing to do anything to find out what was so entrancing about the envelope in her neighbor's hands. She reached down and picked up the abandoned letters and held them in her hand as she stared at her neighbor's house in wonder. She casually strolled back to her yard slipping the mail into her emerald apron. She would bring it to him later and try to ask him what was going on then. She pretended to keep tending to her flowers, but strangely her mind could not let go of the events which had just come to pass.

George panted as he ripped the envelope open. His recent exercise is it was possible to call a half-run to the mailbox and back an exercise had depleted his body of his ability to breathe. He felt for a moment as if the exercise and the excitement over what was held in the letter combined was going to kill him, but alas unfortunately it would not.

George tore the letter from its hiding place in the envelope. His eyes shot down to the small black print imprinted on the document in front of him.

Dear Mr. Knist;

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of the few to audition for the part of Doctor Oink-Oink for the upcoming season of the "Doctor Oink-Oink Show." We will expect to see you tomorrow night at nine o'clock sharp. Do not be late, do not be early.

George's innards did back flips as he reread the document over and over again. He could not have been happier. His life-long dream was beginning to come true. This was the first step. George knew that there was a long road ahead of him. He could not let one simple victory go to his head.

George glared at his watch praying that somehow it would be able to turn itself back. He had done his best to make himself look somewhat presentable for human interaction. He had attempted to rid his hair of all the tangled knots and he had put on a collard shirt he had not worn in years. He was shocked (and somewhat relieved) that it still fit. It was hideous to look at, and he knew that. It was blue with orange strip stretching from his shoulders to his waist. He knew it was a fashion mistake to buy shirts with vertical stripes, but he didn't care, it was on sale.

George flew through his neighborhood at mach speeds knowing that he could not be late (nor early for that matter). That small detail of the letter puzzled him. He assumed there was some reason for saying that, but he didn't care, he was just going to follow their instructions and hope for the best.

He had assumed that his obsession with the television show would help him to be a strong contestant for the part, but he was afraid that his repulsiveness may be a factor of his demise.

As he drove increasingly faster, he ran through everything for his audition. He would need to memorize a simple page of lines and read it back to the panel. He would have about thirty minutes to be able to memorize and act the lines back to the. They would make their decision that night in front of them.

This audition process was published online and George had read it religiously. He scanned the paragraphs without blinking. He had memorized every word down to the punctuation.

The thought that his fixation on this audition and the fact that he would consider his life over if he didn't get the part was unhealthy never crossed his mind. He continued to work hard. In fact, this audition was the only thing George had ever worked hard on in his life. He wondered to himself if he did get the part, if he would work as hard.

His car screeched to a halt leaving twin trails of black skid marks behind him. He had haphazardly driven his car into the nearest parking space to the television studio. His wristwatch read 8:59. He softened his haste. He realized that he could not arrive early. He sauntered his way toward the large silver doors of the ITC building. The International Television Corporation cares about you children! It read across the fifth floor of the tall executive-like building.

George began to feel uneasy. His worry about the audition had finally hit him at full speed. He became extremely flustered and began to decide whether or not he would like to just not waste another moment of his time and walk into his hall closet and shoot himself. He shot down the idea, thinking it was just his nerves, although he had never had problems with them before. He had always been cool when it came to things to be nervous about like auditions.

His watch chimed nine o'clock. He grasped the large silver door handle. It felt like he was grasping an icicle in the middle of December. His hand pulled away in a reflexive shock.

He shook his head, what is getting into you? He though to himself. This reaction was unlike him. He began to worry more about himself than the audition.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and drew in a deep breath filling his lungs with the clean, fall air. When he opened them again he instantly felt ready. He grasped the handle again. He yanked the door open afraid that if his actions stuttered one bit he would turn back and this would be the last night of his life.

Light flooded out from the inside of the reception area. He peered down at his watch, still nine o'clock and forty-five seconds. He was okay, he was not late nor was he early. He was there, nine o'clock sharp.

Two men followed behind George. One was a man whose girth matched Georges although they looked nothing alike. This man had flowing golden hair and deep blue eyes. He even appeared a little bigger than George in some senses. George looked at this man and knew that he would not get the part. This man was the perfect size for the Doctor Oink-Oink costume, and he was pleasant to look at compared to George. George's emotions flared with red hot rage as he peered at his competitor.

The second man was tiny in comparison with the giants preceding him into the lobby. George had to suppress a laugh as he noticed this insect of a human being. There was no way the costume would even stay on that man.

A man in a pitch black business suit strolled in from the only other door in the lobby. He glided among the audition participants inspecting every feature. As he completed the first man with the blonde hair he gave a quick nod. The receptionist sitting at the lobby's long silver desk picked up a matching silver clipboard and began to write.

The man in the suit continued to the scrawny fellow and began to laugh, "Get out of here."

With that the man's head drooped as he somberly dragged his body out of the room and into the night.

The man continued, now inspecting George. George could feel his nerves beginning to get the best of him. He felt warm sweat gathering at his unkempt brow. The man seemed to be taking longer to examine the specimen in front of him than he did the first man.

"Dana, what is this revolting figure's name?" The man said gesturing towards George.

"George Knist, sir."

"And him?" The man said now turning his attention to the blonde man.

"Jason Day, sir."

"Thank you Dana. And thank you my participants. And congratulations Jason Day. You will be portraying the lovely Doctor Oink-Oink this upcoming season," The suited man said with a malicious grin spreading across his face. "And as for you Mr. Knissssssst, you are revolting. Leave." The man said with a hiss.

George didn't even think about it. He just turned and left the room the cool night air stinging his face. It wasn't until he was all the way out the door, and it had closed behind him that it hit him. He was rejected. He was rejected. He was rejected. He was rejected.

George's finger navigated its way across the pages of the phone book. His head was chanting, DAY DAY DAY DAY. His finger halted on top of his enemy's name. It then murderously scraped its way over to the phone number. He began to dial.

The phone began to ring. A click ended the ringing followed by the song-like voice of Jason's. "This is Jason."

"Hello Mr. Day. I am from the ITC. It seems your address has been misplaced in the office and we will need it again. Would you be so kind as to state it for me."

"Certainly," Jason then continued to give his address, stunned by the fact that a perfect office like that would actually lose something, "10257 Beached Moore Road."

Georges hand began to scribble cat scratch copying the address. A wicked smile formed from his lips.

"Thank you so much. We look forward to seeing you."

George peered out the window of his aged car. He was dressed in all black to match the darkness of the night. A simple, but large knife laid firmly in his nervous grasp. He was watching the home of Jason Day's. No light protruded from any of the windows. This would be when he attacked.

He opened his car and strolled casually towards the door. He knew it would be useless to try the front door. That would be locked. But there is never crime in this neighborhood. No one locks their backdoors.

George wrapped his overly large hand over the chilled doorknob and carefully turned it. A soft click followed then the door was free. George slowly and quietly pulled the door open then closed again with another click.

George crept up the maple staircase to the master bedroom. He knew the layout of this house like the back of his hand because it just happened to be identical to his own home. He followed the same procedure of carefully opening the door of the bedroom.

Jason was sound asleep in his bed when George struck. One hard strike into the enormous globe of Jason's stomach. Then a slash across his neck. Then a stab into his heart.

Jason died.

George snuck into the ITC main headquarters. He followed the signs to the dressing rooms. Found the room labeled with a gold star reading "Jason Day." He slipped into the room and quickly put on the Doctor Oink-Oink suit. He felt great. He was drawn into a trance.

A pound on the door awoke him. "We need you on the set Mr. Day!"

George opened the door. "I'm here."

"Good, follow me. No need to memorize lines. Doctor Oink-Oink doesn't speak."


George began to feel sick as they shot the last scene for the day. He had been feeling sick all day. Memories kept flashing into his head. Memories he had never experienced.

He sauntered into his dressing room. He looked at the large mirror on the northern wall. He slipped the giant pig head off.

The first thing he noticed was the golden hair flowing from his head. Then he peered into his deep blue eyes, but they weren't HIS deep blue eyes.

Dana picked up the newspaper. She began to read a headline.


Murder by knife is suspected

"That name sounds really familiar," Dana whispered to herself.