|
I can’t believe you married David Gest and didn’t check with me first. All he wanted was your money and to find out if your mother sang “Over the Rainbow” when she put you to bed so he could tell his tacky friends about it. Trust me. David Gest is a gink. But you can still call me after the divorce if you need to borrow my shoulder. I’d never say “I told you so” to anybody except Nicole Kidman. Incidentally, I know I have a big mouth―but why the hell did they pick me to direct the freshman talent show?!?
AugieHwong: I’m having an anxiety attack. TCKeller: Is it a new one? Cause I’m working on my diary for English. AugieHwong: Tick, it’s happening too quick, that’s what scares me. How did I get to be an A-list director already?? Where’s all the torture you’re supposed to go through before you click? And the hard knocks? And the setbacks you’re supposed to learn from? I haven’t suffered enough yet. TCKeller: Dude, it’s just a talent show! My brother is enjoying this too much. He’s been waiting for the axe to drop ever since I found out that third grade wasn’t ready for my impression of Bette Davis in the Holy Grail of movies, All About Eve (“Why, Max—you sly puss!”). He also grew two more pit hairs during homeroom so he’s finally broken ten, and now he thinks he’s bulletproof. That’s the last time I let him make more kicks than me in soccer so that people won’t guess who really rocks. Okay. Maybe I’ll cave in after all. I don’t like making people beg. But I told Mrs. Fitz- patrick I’d only sign a contract if she agreed to my terms. 1. There’s just one prima donna in an Augie Hwong show, and that’s Augie Hwong. Everyone else is expendable. 2. A curtain made of gold tinsel, a silver disco ball, and my entire cast dressed in sequins. Blue for the boys, pink for the girls. 3. A pit band of exactly nine musicians. I’m not paying overtime for more than that. 4. A celebrity M.C.—either Melissa Etheridge, k.d. lang, or Coretta Scott King. Liza, if you think George Abbott gave you a hard time in Flora, The Red Menace, that’s because you never worked with me before. I’m ruthless. The only act I’m pre- approving without a tryout is Tick and John Siniff and Andy Wexler and Grid Tarbell in a staged version of “Casey at the Bat,” which probably sounds like playing favorites with my brother. But let’s face it, sweetheart—when Judy let you sing with her at the Palladium, you weren’t exactly ready for the Big Time either. I’m holding auditions after school all of next week. You can come if you want, but there might be no point. I get the opening spot and I’m singing “Maybe This Time.” It’s a cruel, cruel business. Love, Augie with an A |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |