Urban Legend

ut I just don't understand why you have a problem with this. After all, he's perfect for the part. I mean, look at him."

"Not believable, Gav. I don't buy it. I know fantasy from reality, and this guy is a wannabe. I would believe you as a serial killer before I would buy this guy." Terry complained.

"Thanks, Terry. My neighbors always said I was the 'quiet' type. Just look at him, though. He is the scariest looking one today."

Terry turned towards the actor in question. High, sloping brow. Cold, cruel eyes. Sinister, and even menacing, indeed - but still not quite right. Something was missing. Still, he would give him a chance. He had wasted the day, already, with an abundance of hams. What was one more joke of an actor?

"Come here, (what was his name?)" Terry asked his assistant Gavin.

"Schumann. Wayne Schumann."

"Ahh. Yes, come here Schumann." Terry completed, though at this time it was not necessary - Schumann had already figured out they were talking to him. He was, after all, the only other person in the room.

"Yes, Mr. Gerhart?" Schumann reported, eyeing both him and Gavin.

Terry always knew when the actors were green. The seasoned ones would never even give an assistant like Gavin the time of day. The new ones, however, well - they didn't know any better. Terry sometimes preferred the green ones, but they came with an entirely different set of problems..

"Have you ever done a cold reading, Schumann?" Terry asked.

"For a commercial, yes."

"Commercial? That wasn't listed in your resumé." Gavin observed.

"Didn't get the part." Schumann said, throwing his eyes to his shoes..

"Doesn't matter, anyway, Gav. Just give him the script and lets run through it once. While we're young, okay?"

Gavin complied, as always, briefing Schumann on the scene he would read. "Okay. This script is loosely based on the real life account of Dr. Merrick Hook. The escaped killer who mysteriously disappeared some years ago. He is an urban legend around these parts. Are you familiar with the story, Mr. Schumann?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm not from around here." Schumann admitted.

Gavin continued, "Well you, your character, was once an eminent medical practitioner, but that changed when you were convicted of fondling your patients under the anesthesia.

"After you escaped from the psychiatric ward, you began to take your revenge by removing organs from your victims and selling them on the black market. That all changed when you were corned in a house by a Doberman.. The dog attacked you, bitting off your hand - thus ending you 'medical' career. The animal would have killed you, but it choked to death on your appendage.

"Now, you take pleasure by simply mutilating hapless young victims with your hooked prosthesis. In this scene, you are at inspiration point - taunting a woman who has left her parked car to urinate."

"I think he's got it, Gav. Can we get one with this?"

Terry sighed to himself. The only thing worse than actors were writers. Hacks spewing out rehashed, revamped garbage after clichéd garbage. Most writers wouldn't know reality if it bit them on the nose. He knew reality, which was why he was the director.

"Should I just read it then, or act it out?" Schumann questioned.

Schumann had obviously lied to them. He didn't know what a cold reading was. There was probably more quality fiction in his resumé than the whole script.

"The stage directions have been crossed out already, Mr. Schumann. That means you just read it now." Gavin explained.

"It says here that Meredith reads first, though." Schumann mumbled.

Gavin shook himself awake and replied, "Oh yeah, that's me. Okay... Ahem. 'Why are you doing this...you, you freak!?'"

"Because of girls like you. Pretty girls who have sex all the time. Girls who sleep around, but won't even let me touch them when they are asleep. Yes, you're all the same."

"Stop! That will be enough, Mr. Schumann." Terry interrupted.

A cold reading didn't mean you showed a total lack of emotion, as Schumann obviously implied.

"He's the last one, Terry. Tomorrow I will post another add with the agency, if you want." Gavin stated.

"Last one? Damn. Wait - wait a second. Another day of listening to hams butcher this garbage will kill me. Schumann, let's give it another shot. This time, though, read with a little feeling. Okay?"

"Should I just continue where I left off?" Schumann inquired.

"No, let's skip ahead to the murder scene. Start from 'This is why they call me Dr. Hook'"

"This is why they call me Dr. Hook!" Schumann screamed, frothing at the mouth.

He had turned on his Shatner-ees, apparently. Terry winced at his interpretation.

"No. It can't be. You're the one who killed my mother!" Gavin resumed his reading (emotionlessly) of the Meredith character.

Schumann bellowed, "Yes, but not before she gave birth to my daughter!"

"Stop! Stop! My God! I don't know if anyone can make these crappy lines sound believable. Damn! I just don't buy it. I just don't see you as a psychopathic murderer, Mr. Schumann. I wish I did, believe me. Then I could get on with the rest of this garbage!"

"You don't believe my as a murderer? A two-bit part like this and you don't buy it? I can be your murderer, Mr. Gerhart. Please, I really need to do this part. It's important to me! This is my dream. Just give me a chance to prove myself. Just give me the chance!" Schumann whined..

"I don't know..." Terry doubted.

Schumann seized Gavin by the back of his hair and flung him to the stage. Gavin emitted a high-pitched scream that could most likely not be outdone by a female lead. Schumann then grabbed the clipboard Gavin had been holding and began smacking him about the face. Gavin took up a pathetic defensive posture.

The clipboard made a pitiful weapon. Schumann must have realized this by the way Gavin was caterwauling and refusing to even bleed. Frusterated, Schumann scanned the area frantically for a more lethal weapon. Gavin, meanwhile, tried desperately to regain his footing. Schumann flung the clipboard at him and kicked his legs out from underneath. Gavin wailed like an infant.

Finding nothing suitable, Schumann began to throttle poor Gavin. Gavin fell silent, mercifully, and the whites of his eyes began to turn bright red. Schumann began forcing pages from the script into Gavin's gaping mouth. His body twitched and convulsed, but soon the struggle was over..

That's the way he would have done it, Terry realized. Make him swallow that crap. He wondered if Mr. Schumann didn't show promise after all.. Terry scratched his chin with a plastic, prosthetic hand. Years ago, before he had assumed a new identity, he had lost his hook while trying to get at a couple in a parked car. Perhaps he and Mr. Schumann could search for a female lead together.