Oh, it gets better . . .

Finally, the grand reveal! I am shown the scripts from that project as well as the one for which I originally submitted. They looked like the book reports of a 3rd grader. They each had hand drawn covers and looked to be no more than 5-6 hand scrawled pages of notebook paper. I think the 3rd grader would have gotten a C- at best.

Oh, hell.

This is where he tells me that I have to be in the horror film if I want a chance at any of the roles in the other project. Keep in mind, that the other thing is what I submitted for, what I was called about. Essentially, the reason I ever got in this situation.

I’m told that I will have to be in a scene with him where he will “canoodle” with me and then leave at which point I will then be passed off to another man who I then kill, after fooling around with him for “30 seconds.”

Now, a quick note: I had no idea what canoodle meant. So for the larger part of this whole farce, I thought he wanted to kiss me.

At first I tell him I am unavailable. He presses, asking me what I am doing for the next month. He emphasizes that I MUST do this if I want any part in what is obviously the more legitimate work. At this point I just want out but I was too intimidated to be aggressive about it. I had visions of my body divided among various dumpsters throughout the city and figured it was best to tread lightly.

I then explain that I don’t feel comfortable with his proposal. It isn’t a nice part and I have a child. I don’t want to be involved in anything that would embarrass my son. I mean, think about it, do YOU want to see your mom with some old, dirty, fart hippy?

He says it’s not a kids movie (duh). I told him that I noticed and that wasn’t the point. He says that this part is empowering and begins a litany of all the things he got other girls to do.

Another note: Wow, ladies, don’t you love it when some man is telling you what’s empowering? These assclowns are obviously operating under the assumption that we don’t even know what the definition of power is. I can tell you this, it doesn’t involve being some creepy voyeur’s sex object. Or any object for that matter.

So, on to the litany –

1. Make out with each other even though one of them was clearly uncomfortable.
2. Let a male actor lick the 19 year-old’s breast (He then mocked this poor guy for being really uncomfortable with this. Like most pigs, he assumed the worst of other men.)
3. He said that one of his “girls” had a nervous break down and that he had to get rid of her.
4. All of them had “canoodled” with him (the girls, not the man)

Irritated, but not enough to break from my plan to get out in one, undefiled piece, I say to him that this is in no way empowering. I was desperately trying to get the point across that I did not like this project at all without flat out saying it was shit. In my imagination being blunt = dismembered in a dumpster.

Subtlety failed. He argued that his smut-farce was all about empowering women because the women (girls) get to kill some men after being degraded and passed around. And that he really edited out a lot of the “boob stuff”. I was told that there were literally hours of this “boob stuff.”

At some point the role that I submitted for is completely off the table. Keep in mind, it was not cast the night before when we scheduled this debacle. But I was now told that he gave it to a girl he knows in Atlanta who never auditioned. BUT I might get one of the supporting roles if I do this smutty film now.

I decided to be blunt and site childhood trauma as the reason I could never ever do something like this. (For what it’s worth, that is true and I would have never mentioned it if I didn’t feel like I had to in order to get out of the room).

He then claims that he’s a rape victim too and that that doing this scene would be very therapeutic for me.

Jesus jumped up Christ! You have got to be kidding me.

He then shows me two films from his personal collection both featuring “great rape scenes.” (I didn’t watch them, he just showed me the jackets and told me I should watch them).

Are you serious? Lord, I am sorry for using your name in vain in my head just now like that. But this shit isn’t funny. I mean, come on.

Finally, he sited the Wayans Brother’s film A Haunted House as having a “hysterical” rape scene. Inspired by this, he tells me that he has filmed his own simulated rape scene for comic effect.

I say I am not comfortable with strange men touching me. He tells me I can keep my top on.

Time freezes. This is where I realize what canoodling means. I have a rapid flash of the past two hours and it hits me. He’s trying to see me naked! Yes, I got this far, before it came to me because I am nothing if not eternally, optimistically, unshakably naive. At least nice people call it naivete. After so many years like this, I think I’m just a special kind of dumb.

I tell him that I won’t do it. I don’t feel safe with men fondling me. He then tells me to wait a minute while he rights some dialogue.

Aw, shit.

NOW the scene has the character he wants me to play fooling around with him and then voluntarily making out with the second guy before suddenly slapping him (guy #2) and delivering a monologue about being raped as a child. I am told that I am the one that has to play this part now because it “is” me.

Stick a fork in me, I’m done. I mentally catalog the contents of my purse. Is there anything I could use as a weapon? I have a wild cat. Is that enough? There’s two of them and they are bigger than me and the bed is so big and the room so crowded that I doubt I could squeeze through the tiny channel leading to the door before they were on me. The window?

For some reason he now brings up this “handicapped girl” that’s he’s going to “give a chance”. He tells me he plans to have her go topless even though she has scarring from a car accident. He then tells me, “The bigger a girl’s boobs, the more she wants to take her top off.”

Dispersed throughout this whole conversation are comments on my lack of professionalism and how there are so many girls who would love this part and that this role is defining/challenging/the gateway to being discovered.

Finally, he says, “Just tell me if you want to do it or not, I have a lot of other girls who want this part.”

For what I believe is the sixth or seventh time, I tell him that I just can’t do what he wants and that I am sorry for wasting his time.

More than eager to get out of the room, I immediately take this moment to make for the door. His wife stops me and asks that I let her open it for me.

This is when I realized that I had been locked in the entire time.

I almost peed my pants.

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