The Golden Globe

He filled in all the blanks, after first checking the bottom to see if there was any penalty for perjury, a word he had learned a few days ago. His father had cautioned he should always look for it previous to signing anything. And there was a space at the bottom for a signature, but they didn't want his, they wanted his father's. He looked around again, then accurately reproduced the flamboyant loops and incisive angles of his father's autograph: John Barrymore Valentine II.

He finished his hot dog and handed the form to the lady when she came by again. He didn't think anything would come of it, since it would obviously take some time to work through this many children. As he waited he overheard enough to realize this was the first cull from a much larger group. Most of the day's attendees had already been sent home with that ancient kiss-off ringing in their ears: "Thank you for coming don't call us we'll call you."

He looked around at the seventy or eighty remaining. Then he looked at the table where the lady had put the stack of forms.

Hmmm.

A group of kids had been ru

In a moment yet another woman emerged from behind the curtain. She picked up the top form.

"Ke

Dodger tugged at her skirt.

"Oh, there you are. Well, you can come with me, and your parents must wait right..." She looked around, puzzled. "Where are your parents, dear?"

"Oh, over there," he said, pointing. Then he smiled and waved.

"Yes, well..." She looked confused for a moment, then brightened. "Well, that is different. Usually I have to bar the door, and then guard the room to keep them from sneaking back in. Very well. Come this way, please."

He followed her through the curtain, then through two doors. The noise didn't completely die away until the second door shut behind him.

"Over here, kid," said a gravelly voice.

It was a large room, almost filled by a long conference table with a dozen chairs on each side and one on each end. On the walls were posters from the Gideon Peppy Show, bright and cheerful and primary-colored, most featuring the maniacally smiling host of the top-rated children's show on three planets, Gideon Peppy. Directly across from Dodger three people sat together near the middle of the table. At one end was an unsmiling woman sitting rigidly upright, hands folded on the table, "a broomstick up her ass," as his father would say. At the other end slouched a man it took Dodger a moment to realize was Gideon Peppy himself.

"Take a seat, little guy," said the man on the left of the triad, a portly fellow with a big shock of blond hair and a plaid shirt. "My name's Lawrence Street, and I'm the casting director. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, sir." Dodger fought the impulse to hurry over to the table. "Keep your movements slow," his father had told him many times, when he was watching him rehearse. He was about to sit in one of the chairs when the second man, who was bald almost to the top of his head, spoke up.

"Take the next one," he said, with a slight smile. Dodger saw there was some kind of booster seat in it. He climbed aboard with as much dignity as he could muster, but was glad when he was in it, because in the other chair his chin would have been just about level with the table. He folded his hands in front of himself, and waited.

"This is Sam Mohammed," Street said, indicating the swarthy man, "and next to him is Debbie Corlet. They're my assistants." Larry, Moe, and Curly, Dodger thought, getting them fixed in his head. "The lady at the end of the table is from Equity. She's go

Larry frowned across the table at him.

"I see you didn't bring a copy of your script, so I assume you've memorized it. What we want you—"

"Excuse me, sir," Dodger said, thinking fast, "but I didn't have time to study it. If you could just lend me a copy..."

"They handed them out at the door," Larry said, frowning more deeply.

"They must have missed me," Dodger said. He beamed brightly at Larry. "I'm a very quick study."

The three huddled briefly, and Larry shrugged. "What the hell. Let's see how quick he is. Go over there and read it to him, Debbie."

"That won't be necessary," Dodger said. Curly was already hurrying around the table with the script. She glanced at her boss, who gestured dubiously that she should give him the papers. He smiled up at her and took them.

"So you can read?" Moe said, raising one eyebrow. He made a mark on a form in front of him. "That's good. What is he, the fifth reader today?"

"Fourth," said Gideon Peppy from his end of the table. Dodger looked at the star in time to see him put his trademark lollipop back in his mouth.

"You're right," Larry said. "That first kid was lying, anybody could see that." He looked at Dodger and gestured at the script. "So read it, Ke

Dodger looked at the script, which was three short scenes. He assumed they had been written just for this audition. He hoped so. They were terrible.

"Okay," he said. The stooges looked up from a whispered conference they had just begun, and Larry frowned again. He had a talent for frowning.

"Okay, what?"

"I'm ready now."

Larry's frown became a full glower. He pointed a stubby finger at Dodger, and leaned forward.

"I don't much like being lied to, kid. Don't give me this bushwah about not seeing the script, then expect me to believe you've boned it in less than a minute. You memorized it, why don't you just—"

"Let the kid read," Peppy said. Everyone shut up and looked at him quickly. He had his trademark yellow shoes propped up on the table, was leaning back in his chair staring at the ceiling. Larry seemed to taste something bad, but turned to face Dodger again.

"Okay. Debbie's go

" 'Gosh, Sparky,' " Curly chanted, in a dull monotone. " 'I didn't think we'd see you again so soon.' "

" 'They can't get rid me so easily,' " Dodger said. He immediately hated the reading, but didn't know just what to do about it. They went through the scene without a hitch. By the end Curly had relented a little and actually put a little expression into her last two lines, but it was no good, and Dodger knew it. There was absolutely no clue as to the character of Sparky in the scene, there was nothing for him to work with. It was a joking skit lacking a punch line, though the cues for laughter were right there on the page: CUE LAUGH. Dodger knew they kept laughs in cans somewhere in television studios. He thought they'd be opening one heck of a lot of cans to sell this turkey.