There was an explosion on the eastern horizon. Ultra-bright rays of light penetrated through my bedroom window and pierced my eyes as I lied uncomfortably on my rumpled twin bed. My eyes were burning, my face was on fire, but it was no different from any other day…  except for one thing… Today, I will be staying home. The sun smothering my room in its diabolic glow means nothing to me today. I will not be going to work today or tomorrow or the day after that. The failure, known as myself, has come through, once again, and lost another job.

I mean, I can’t even get upset anymore since it is to be expected. I screw up at my job, they give me a reprimand and, ultimately, I repeat the same mistake in the same day. At that point my employer can no longer stand the stench of failure permeating their workplace, so they dropkick my sorry ass out the door and out of their lives. It’s a more common occurrence than the fireball whistling through my window in the morning. However there is still one question that needs to be asked? What the hell am I going to do now?

After staring out of my smeared and sordid window for over an hour, I decide to make a call to my agency and see if they have any jobs for the biggest loser in the eleven western states. Whoa!!! What do we have here? I might just have an interview. Wait a minute! Why? Why would anyone want to hire me for a job? They are obviously not aware of my luminous and stellar work history. Okay, hold the phone. What the motherchuck is going on here? This is for a movie that’s being filmed in Reno, and they want to talk to me about being an extra. Again, I ask the question? Why? Do they want a flop? Do they want to lose a couple million dollars by casting me in this colossal waste of celluloid? Well, it’s their loss. I’ll do it since it’s going to pay me a couple hundred bucks. Without a job this might be the only thing that will keep me off the streets.

The next morning I get into my banged up and bruised Pinto and head downtown to the audition. A couple of miles in, while I’m stopped at a light, a nauseous feeling slathers all over my slightly oversized belly. “What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself as I proceed to my destination. I can’t do a movie. I know I will forget my lines or trip over the co-star or mumble some inaudible dialogue that will be an internet meme in a couple days. Of course, no other jobs are rolling in and I’m only eligible for three weeks of unemployment compensation. I can’t do it, but I have to do it. That makes no sense. I better pull over and figure out my next move.


Will Jake decide to be an extra in the movie?




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