|Posted on 2004-05-18 05:45:50 by Denver|
The Puppetry Audition
|I went to an audition the other day; for a long running Off-Broadway hit called "The Puppetry of the Penis." Two Australians created the show several years ago and have brought it on a world tour that landed them in New York City last year. Now their visas have run out and they must hire replacements. |
The auditions took place at the John Houseman Theater, a four hundred seat house on the newly redeveloped 42nd Street near Times Square.
I received a packet of information that included pictures and diagrams for five penis puppets including:
the eiffel tower
the loch ness monster
the wrist watch
The audition is at 11am and I tell my sixty eight year old boss that I have a terrible ringing in my ear and I HAVE to go to the doctors to get the noise sucked out. The medical condition is partially true; her voice has been rattling my brain for months.
I arrive at the theater and there's ten or fifteen reporters with cameras lighting the lobby and shooting interviews. I am immediately pulled aside by a New York 1 cameraman/reporter who asks me to identify myself. He asks me why I'm auditioning.
"I think it's a fascinating art form, the Australians are fabulous artists, and I've always been curious about genital origami."
This is a total lie. I have no interest in this art form whatsoever. It seems like a ridiculous idea for live entertainment.
We assemble in the auditorium and the auditions begin when the directors/creators, the two Australians, lead the thirteen of us onto the stage; they give us a "master class" on how to perform the puppetry. We are all asked to strip naked and the television reporters cameras start rolling. Most of the men are Latino. There are four white guys and one black man. No one is speaking to each other. We are obediently following directions and I appear to be the only one who is intimidated by the fact that WE ARE STARK NAKED AND EVERY MAJOR NEWS CHANNEL IN NEW YORK CITY IS FILMING US. Most of the other men act like they've been practicing dick tricks for years and have been waiting eagerly for this opportunity. A few of the men don't speak English very well and they look disoriented, like they've stumbled into the wrong audition. We all flap our cocks around, rub them, warm them up, and then proceed to grab our scrotums and twist everything around clock wise and counter clockwise. We practice the tricks on by one. For size reasons, I continue to struggle with The Wrist Watch.
Then we exit the stage and line up. One by one, we re-enter naked and are subjected to an filmed interrogation under a harsh spotlight and forced to perform the five tricks that we have in our "repertoire" as well as anything of our own creation. Everyone nails The Hamburger.
The most impressive auditioner is the black guy who shows up late, has a huge limp dick, and introduces himself by telling everyone how much more of his dick his girlfriend gets to see. He performs his own trick that he calls "The Mosquito"; a mosquito when it sucks in too much blood. His balls resemble the bulging eyes and his penis is the stinger apparatus which hangs down behind the insect's face.
I am almost the last to be called upon. As I stand on the stage, my penis in hand, a voice calls out from behind the glare of the spot lights
"Do you have anything original to show us?"
"Well, I do have something," I mutter, "It's kind of abstract. I think if the show was called 'the poetry of the penis' it might be more appropriate."
"Let's see it."
"I call it 'Blind Baby Bird'."
"Okay. Go ahead."
I cup the scrotum sack eyeballs-the sightless organs of a young chick- and twist them over the head of the penis, squeezing the tip to simulate a newly birthed bird's plea for attention
"Squeak. Squeak." I warble out into the darkness.
I put my clothes on and lie about my name to a reporter who is hiding back stage and wants to get a quote for his story. The Daily News wants to get a shot of all thirteen of us with the producers. During the photo setup I step out a side door and take a long, troubled walk back to work.
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