MY FIRST & LAST OFFICIAL “PAID” ACTING GIG

My youngest step-son is

 about to enter his 

Senior year in the

 acting conservatory at Ithaca College.

Having him back home



since the holidays and

 living with us all summer



 has given us some great “alone time”  

to talk about acting and




the hopefully-not-his-future of



waiting tables.

We talk about techniques

 and classes

and theories.

 And while I never





had the courage

 to pursue such a brave path,

 I had been involved in a

Not-for-Profit Comedy Troupe,

 for years.

Because I was voted Most Comical,

by my graduating high school class,

 this was license for me to go out and

 find me some acting jobs.

 The only problem was




I was fully ensconced

in a FULL-TIME career




 in Cosmetics.

Moron.

 I’d go on casting calls

during my lunch hour from Revlon…

thinking  I could squeeze it all in.

I guess I liked eating too much,

 ‘cause I wasn’t willing to shelve my

 glamorous life,

 to wait tables and

do it the way you’re supposed to do it.

Nopers.

Not me.

So, when I ended up with a paid acting gig,

 in the neighborhood where I lived,

I was so excited!

No commute.

It was late November &

 it was bloody cold.

 For a while, anyway.

This gig was for a video store

 Remember those????

When BUYING a video





set you back $95??????????

 So, this store is having a



 promotional day and

 I’m hired to walk McLean Avenue,



in Yonkers,

dressed as














Big Bird.

Oops.





Wrong Bird.








My very bad.

 No shit, this costume was huge.

I looked like a cross between the

Chichita Banana lady &

Jeffrey, the mascot from Toys 'R Us.

My view was through the






mesh neck of B.B.

 As St. Barnabas was directly across the street,

 I found this “view” to have such

an ironic confessional feel to it.

"Dear Lord, Forgive Me For That &
Bless All The Pygmies"

  So I put this costume on…a feathery –-

not light-weight feathery --

 itchy  feathery suit.

Everyone thought I was so

spot-on in my birdly gestures,

the way that I moved B.B.’s entire head

in an in-and-out motion,

as a creature of this genus might do. 

Actually, that head movement





was me gagging

from the lingering scent of the last guy

 that wore this costume and quit.

Once again,




I have a gaggle of balloons in my hand,

(seems to be a theme in my life)


to give out to the youngsters.

Well, apparently






the youngsters in Yonkers

are a little more well-seasoned




 than your typical pre-teen.

Hoodlums.

There’s no other way to put it.

 I’m stopping traffic,





waving my big yellow chicken fingers at cars,

trying to get them to stop and

come in and actually





buy








a video.

Stupid me, looking  back.

  Every parking meter




 on the street is taken,

on a Saturday morning in Yonkers…

where are they supposed to park??

Thank God that no one



 took the balloon bait



or the next sight would have been



 Big Bird valet’ing f'ing cars,

 on St. Barnabas’ sidewalk,

sticking up his big yellow middle finger



at the drivers who were honking madly



at him for causing this very F.U.B.A.R. car scenario.

I was going for “flipping them the bird,”



 but that was a little too cheesy,






even for me.

   J

So. There.






I digress again. 




A few took my balloons,




a few took pictures and





 most of them took off.

I was freaking out,





 that the video people



were not only



NOT going to pay me






 for my fine acting and sales skills,




but further deduct the cost of all the





expensive helium I gave out.






I was so dead-on,






 in my portrayal of B.B.






 I was damned





goofy as all get out,

waving and blowing kisses and





pointing to the video store…



mostly so they had a clue what my purpose was,



 since conversation through the mesh neck



 had me sounding like a cross between






Don Corleone

and





 Don Pardo.

“What are you selling?,”




 I was asked numerous times. 

 “Videos…




come buy a video!!”



 which now sounded like



Donald Duck got into the mix.

 “A what? ” 

 “Videos!” 



I sounded like I had a tracheotomy,






with a kazoo inserted.

 “A what?”

 “Balloons,







I’m selling  f’ing balloons…




two bucks each.”

Hell, how stupid did I seem???

 I’m running back to the store,

every 90 seconds, panting and

sweating in my yellow



feathery jogging suit.

“Bah..Bah…loons,







blow up more bah-loons,”



 I implored, of my employers. 



They're clapping and





 oohhing and


getting all stupid with






 dollar signs in their eyes,

thinking I'm the greatest money



 they've ever dished out.

So, back to the Hitler Youth of Yonkers.

The nicest looking young men




you could want to run into,

until I over-heard them saying




they were going to

 run into ME. 

I offered each of them a balloon,

mostly to make them leave,

 as they were riding their bikes


on the sidewalk and

 there was no room for me to


  valet those cars J.

 





The little darlings snickered at me

when I extended my arm,

to give them the balloon of their choice.

I wrote them off as bastard ingrates,

just as I heard




 out of the corner of my

meshy confessional window,

“Hey,



 let’s run Big Bird down



with our bikes!”

Whatdidhejustsay???

  WTF?

I swing B.B.’s big head around

so I can see where they went.

I spy-ed, with my little eye,

three little assholes,

riding up, a block away,

just so that they can get some

good momentum going




when they do a craniotomy on



The Bird.

 I see them, three deep,

facing me head on.

Those bird feet were like  floppy size 14's.

I’m flopping, like B.B. in yellow swim fins,

 trying to get off of the sidewalk.

I figure I’ll bum a ride with the

first stupid car



 that stops for the red light and

 hasn’t locked their doors. 

Wouldn’tcha know it?

Green lights, all the way.

At this point,




I go into bird survival mode and

 I’m picturing either my big yellow body,

 splayed out on McLean or




The Bird,

pummeling the shit out

of these darling youngsters.

Lose-Lose…Plan C. 

 I turn to face them


head on


and as little Adolf

 is just about to plow his





Schwinn into my drumsticks,

I laterally extended my

 feathery chicken arm and caught his chin.

 The chin and the Schwinn,





did not win….

jus’ sayin…..



The next commotion I hear is,

 “Hey, did you see that????

Big Bird just





 HIT THAT KID!!!”

No, wait…you don’t understand!!!

He was trying to paralyze

 a beloved children’s character...

I was just defending myself!!!"

“Hell, just for that,

 I’ll NEVER







GO INTO





THAT VIDEO STORE AGAIN!!”

Oh, no. That can’t be good. 

So, that was my


 FIRST


and


 LAST





 paid acting gig.

I’m sticking with Charitable Organizations.

Vaya Con Dios, Douglas.

 I hope you never need St. Genesius,

as your acting Savior.

SusiTheBigYellowJ