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A Star is Born	By : EJConley Category: Casts RPF > CSI Views: 1381 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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No, no, no, NO! Jebus Creestus hopping on a pogo stick, WHY?!

Ireland kept jogging down the hall and looked at her watch again, hoping it would tell her something different from last time. No luck. She pounded on the down button for the elevator. “Hurry UP,” she whispered loudly. Her frustrated outburst elicited stares from those walking by her. She just smiled and nodded like she was taught and jabbed at the elevator button a couple more times. A faint ding to her left made her release a little sigh as she stepped into the elevator.

Ireland was 5’4”. Brown hair and eyes. Nothing overly special and not nearly as Irish looking as her name implied. She was a little overweight, but her personality generally made people look at more than just her waistline. Born and raised on the corner of Buttfuck and YouGottaPertyMouth in Montana, she knew how to take care of herself long before she moved to Washington and was picked up for screen work and modeling. She prided herself on her snappy wit and her intelligence, and was not above putting ignorant and stupid people in their place when needed.

Ireland ran out of the elevator and into the next audition with 30 seconds to spare. She got a glare from Melinda, her handler, as she walked in, but she grabbed her number and got in line before she could be targeted for one of Mel’s famous, ‘If you’re not five minutes early, you’re late’ speeches. She was mouthing ‘Sorry’ when a lady with a stack of papers walked by.

“Miss, do you need a print monologue?” She flashed the stack of papers at her.

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve got my own.” Ireland tapped her right temple with her index finger. “All up here.”

“Good luck,” the monologue lady whispered.

Ireland knew the chance she was taking. At the yearly Las Angeles meeting of the International Modeling and Talent Association memorizing monologues was dangerous. If you picked up a paper when you walked in the door, the judges knew you’d only had a few minutes to work on it and then took into account if you stumbled over a word or it didn’t flow perfectly. If you memorized your monologue, the judges automatically assumed you’d been working on it for nothing short of decades. If you could pull it off, you’d have managers flocking to you in droves. If you screwed up, you could kiss your acting career goodbye. She looked around a bit and suddenly realized, she was the only person in the audition without a print.

Great, so I’m going to die like a horrible flaming plane crash into the desert, and I’m going to do it alone. Just perfect.

She had to wait about half an hour before she got on stage; consequences of not being an hour early. But that gave her plenty of time to agonize over if anyone in the room was going to even understand her routine.

I shouldn’t have picked British humor.

“Number 342, please?”

Ireland painted on her smile and walked out. Not even a full day through a week long competition and she already wanted to jump off a tall building.

“Hello,” she looked into the camera. “My name is Ireland Conley. I have prepared a monologue that is a portion of Eddie Izzard’s show Dressed to Kill. It is a British humor stand-up comedy routine, and to honor that I will be doing it with an accent from the London area.” She took a deep breath and started.

“Now I just wanna talk quickly about language, and then we can all go. Yeah, language. They do say Britain and America are two countries separated by the Atlantic Ocean, and it’s true. No, they say, ‘two countries separated by a common language,’ that’s the line; it’s an Oscar Wilde line, I think. And we do pronounce things in a different way, like you say caterpillar and we say caterpillar, and you say aluminum and we say aluminium. You say, centrifugal and we say centrifugal. You say, leisure and we say lizuray. You say baysil and we say bahsil. You say ’erbs and we say herbs, because there’s a fucking h in it. But you spell through T-H-R-U, and I’m with you on that, ‘cause we spell it thruff, and that’s trying to cheat at Scrabble.

How can we get that ‘OU’ sound?
Well, a U will work.
What about an O as well?
We don’t need it, we’re fine.
No, I think an O in.
Well, all right.
And a G as well.
What?!
Yes, a G would be good.
We need a silent G in the background, in case of any accidents or something.
Well, all right.
And an H as well.
Fucking ‘ell! Hang on.
An H in case some herbs come along.
All right.
And a Q, and a P, and a Z. Look it’s a word in Scrabble that’s 480 points!

So yes, and we do have slight differences in that arena, but in Europe we have 200 languages. 200 languages! Just count them, I know you won’t! And future generations of Europeans – I’m sorry, Europeans, but we’re gonna have to be bilingual; we’re gonna have to be, and English speakers hate this! Two languages in one head? No one can live at that speed! Good Lord, man! You’re asking the impossible! But the Dutch speak four languages and smoke marijuana. Yes, but they’re cheating! Everyone knows marijuana is a drug enhancement that can help you on track and field to come last in a team of 8 million other runners…who are all dead. I don’t know how the Dutch do it, but anyway, we’re gonna have to learn, and the reason for doing it is, one, for being groovy and just getting out there and doing it, but the second is we just lose a lot of business in the rest of Europe, ‘cause German people phone up.

Wir haben fünf millionen Deutschmark.
Just fuck off, will you, mate?
He was speaking German, I told him to go away, I told him to fuck off! I don’t know, something about fünf million in Deutschmarks. I told him to get knotted! We don’t want any of his deutschy markys. We do? We do want that? Oh, I’m terribly sorry! Oh, fuck! Redial.

So yeah, I’m into this, I’m into this idea; it’s a positive thing, man. I took my last show, ‘Glorious,’ to Paris and I did it in French, and the French people came and stared at me, with that look in their eyes of quoi? Because, you know, there’s no standup in France, and they’re not used to English people speaking French, but I was doing it as a positive thing, because we could be the biggest melting pot in the world! 500 million people, all we have to do is melt a bit, just move it around. Fucking move it around! It was partly that and partly to just go, yeah. So I did that.

And I learnt French at school, up to the age of 16, and then I just kept talking it endlessly after that. And at school, the first page I ever learnt in French was full of things that are quite difficult to get into conversation, thinks like the mouse is underneath the table – la souris est en dessous la table. Just slip that when you’re buying a ticket to Paris: Le train à Paris, oui? C’est ici? C’est maintenant? Cinq minutes… la souris est en dessous la table…

The other line was, the cat is on the chair – le chat est sur la chaise – slightly more easy to fit in; and the monkey is on the branch – le singe est sur la branche. Very difficult to get into a conversation! Not a lot of jungle in France monkeys thin on the ground, thin in the air, just generally pretty trim! And yes, so it just wasn’t working. We go to bars and cafés, that’s where we go; we go to bars and cafés, and we sit there and we have chats in the café.

Oui, j’aime beaucoup le cafê, le cafê noir and très fort; très choud avec une cuillère dedans. Ah, le virage de la cuillère; le virage des poitrines. Je mets la cuillère dans la bouche.
Je suis le Président de Burundi!
Ah, oui, Burundi! Je le connais bien! C’est tout près de Zaire, oui? Tout près de Mozambique. No, Tanzanie, Tanzanie! Oui, je les ai appris quand j’ai les pox de poulet. Je dois part maintenant parce que ma grandmère est flambèe.

If you don’t speak French, by the way, all that was fucking funny, all right? We go and get hotel rooms for the night:
Vous avez une chambre, monsieur?
Oui, nous avons les chambres, nous sommes un hôtel!
OK, je voudrais une chambre avec un grand lit, a large bed, avec une vue de la mer, a view of the sea,avec une douche, with a spider.
Oui, monsieur, c’est chambre 42, monsieur.
42? Merci beaucoup. Mais, la souris est en dessous la table, le chat est sur la chaise et le singe est sur la branche.
Quois?
Il y a un singe sur la branche? Le chat? La souris?
Ou est le singe?
Le singe est sur la branche.
Est-ce que le singe est dans la chambre?

In the end, the only way I could get that line into a conversation was I had to go to France with a cat, a mouse, a monkey, a table and a chair, and wander around heavily wooded areas. Come on, come on! Someone’s coming, someone’s coming! Quick, positions! Les positions, maintenant! Boulot, boulot! Tout de suite! Vas-y! Vas-y!

Bonjour!
Eh, bonjour. Qu’est-ce qui se passe?
Bonjour, je suis Anglais, je suis ici en vacances. C’est très belle ici, les couleurs, les bois, très belle.
Tu est un travesti?
Oui, je suis un travesti, mais pas un travesti typical. Je suis un travesti executive. Un travesti d’action!
Très bien.
Mais, la souris est en dessous la table, le chat est sur la chaise et le singe est… est… le singe est disparu.
Cause the monkey would fuck off! He’d do his own thing. He was a bloody monkey! He was a cheeky monkey, and he knew my French wasn’t very good, so he’d go off and do things.

Ah, le singe, maintenant, regarde. Il est sur une bicyclette. Il joue au banjo. Et il fume une pipe. Maintenant, il arête. Il lit un journal, il a on journal.

Et maintenant il est dans l’autobus! Il conduit l’autobus! Et Sandra Bullock est dans l’autobus! Il y a une bombe dans l’autobus! Il faut conduire l’autobus plus de 50 kilomètres par l’heure. Et Keanu Reeves! Là! Il arrive dans la voiture! Il a pas de cheveux et Jeff Daniels est déjà mort. Regarde, il se jette dans l’autobus. Et Dennis Hopper, oh! Dennis Hopper, quel méchant!”
That was the film ‘Speed’ in French, which in France was called ‘La Vitesse!’ Or at least it should have been, but in fact it was called ‘Speed.’ Yeah.

Ireland stood, looking at the people in the room. All of a sudden one of the agents in the back started clapping, and slowly, the whole room joined him. Melinda gave her a thumb up and started towards the stage steps to meet her. The two of them were swamped almost immediately by agents and managers wanting Ireland to attend callbacks. Their names and callback times were taken and Melinda walked with Ireland outside.

“Oh my GOD, Mel. That was amazing!” Ireland collapsed on a stone ledge.

“You did great sweetie. You lucked out coming in late and going at the end. Definitely created a moment of amazing finale on the competition,” Melinda was going through the names and times she had been handed for her client, and added them to the long list she already had. “We’re going to have to sit down and figure out which of these you’re going to go to. Do you want to do movies or series work right away?” She got no response. “Ireland!”

“Huh? Sorry. Distracted. Check those guys out. I swear to God the one of the left looks like…Eric Szmanda.” He turned around just enough for her to get a good look. It was Eric Szmanda alright, and his buddy was George Eads. “Mel, you get either of those guys to talk to me for 10 seconds, and I will go wherever you point me.”

“Aren’t you married?” Mel laughed at her. Being star-struck was part of the fun of L.A.

“Divorced. Well I will be soon anyway. I mean it Mel. Meeting those guys would be my dream come true. You know I’m into that. One more semester to finish my Forensic Chemistry degree at Eastern and I could be their technical advisor. Having an in never hurts.” George looked in their direction and she waved. He nodded politely before turning back to his business.

“I’ll see what I can do sweetie. I have to get back for the other girls. You’re done for the day unless you’ve got callbacks I don’t know about already.” Melinda double checked her sheet, but she didn’t see anything.

“Nope. I’ve got a very important appointment with my pillow tonight, but that’s about it. Wow, I don’t know how I’m going to survive four more days of this.” She yawned a little and started walking toward the hotel.

“You’ll survive,” Melinda called after her.
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A Star is Born