Casting Call

You know it's not going to be a nice, quiet evening when you come home from work and find that somebody has posted this notice on your front door:

AUDITIONS
3:30-9 p.m.
Please have your headshot and resume ready.
Dancers please remove your shirts.

I took deep breath (which sounded more like an exasperated gurgle) and stepped into the foyer. Mrs Teitelbaum was there on a folding chair next to a card table, reading a copy of People magazine.

Her head jerked up as I closed the door. "Did you make an appointment?"

"No, Mrs Teitelbaum," I said. "What are–"

"Well, okay," she said. "You're kind of short but she did say she needs all kinds, so give me your photograph and take off your shirt and wait in the kitchen and maybe we can fit you in somehow."

"Mrs Teitelbaum," I said, "It's Franklin. Franklin."

She lifted her pince nez onto her nose and stared at me.

"Ohhhhh," she said. "It's you. She didn't think you'd be home so soon. I'm afraid she's not going to be very happy about this. We're right in the middle of things."

"Things?"

Suddenly from the living room I heard what sounded like an asthmatic Corgi singing "I Want Your Sex" with piano accompaniment.

"DOLORES!" I screamed.

The piano and the Corgi broke off in mid-phrase. Dolores huffed in, followed by Harry, who was carrying a notebook and a stack of 8x10 glossies.

"What are you doing home?" she said. "I thought you had a date."

"Not this month."

"Can you go get one? And not come back before, say, nine or ten?"

"What the hell is going on in here?"

"I am trying to conduct auditions, cupcake, in preparation for what will undoubtedly be the musical and terpsichorean sensation of the Boystown summer season."

"I don't even want to know."

"I have been engaged," said Dolores, "to present my song stylings at a venerable and beloved Chicago boite, and for this I require a top-notch supporting ensemble."

"Huh?"

"She got hired by the Lucky Horseshoe to sing three nights a week and introduce the coochie dancers," said Harry.

"What's a coochie?" said Mrs Teitelbaum. "Is that French for cookie?"

"Will you all please shut up?" said Dolores. "I am paying the pianist by the hour and we have talent stacked up in the kitchen waiting to be seen."

"And they already used up all the ice in the freezer trying to keep their nipples perky," said Harry. "So one of the guys was asking if he could crack open that box of frozen soy nuggets."

"I like chocolate chip coochies best," said Mrs Teitelbaum.

"Are we done? Should I put my pants back on now?" shouted the Corgi voice from the living room.

"Yes!" I yelled.

"No!" screamed Dolores. "I haven't seen you do the dance combination yet. Harry, let's roll."

The piano launched into the opening bars of Kylie Minogue's "Your Disco Needs You." Mrs Teitelbaum bobbed her head in time and snapped her fingers.

"Aren't you going to take your shirt off like the others?" she said vaguely.

"No."

"Oh, that's too bad. Say, when my shift is done would you like to come over to my apartment for a coochie?"

I think I'm going to start sleeping at the office.