James
Brolin Gets A Role
By
Ian Wolff
"I really didn't
expect to get the role," said James Brolin, during an interview
in the home he never paid a dime for. "Things have been a little
dry for me lately," he continued. "So, needless to say, I didn't
get my hopes up too high."
Liz Waters, of
the Hollywood Roundtable Gazette, leaned forward in a chair that
Barbra paid for, and asked, "Who first offered you the role?"
"James Brolin,"
answered James Brolin.
"You offered the
role to yourself?" asked Waters.
"Yes," replied
Brolin. "But that still didn't mean it was a sure thing. "I took
myself to lunch and we tossed around a few ideas, but there was
never any guarantee that I'd get the part. I was getting some fairly
good vibes from myself, though, but I was never able to really pin
myself down to anything concrete. Myself seemed fairly impressed,
however, and promised to call
me as soon as he'd reached a decision."
Waters shifted
somewhat uncomfortably in her chair, and began looking about for
the nearest exit. "Is it true that Barbra produced this movie?"
she asked.
"So," said Brolin.
"No offense, but
didn't that make your getting the role just a little bit easier?"
she asked.
"That's ridiculous,"
said Brolin. "Barbra had nothing whatsoever to do with my self's
final decision."
"Did others audition
for this role?" asked Waters.
Brolin grabbed
both of his earlobes, pulled them outwards, and made several strange
noises while keeping his eyes crossed.
Waters, fearing
for her safety, chose not to address it. "Did anyone else audition?"
she repeated.
"Of course," said
Brolin. "There was me, myself, I, and Binky."
"Binky?"
"Yes, Binky,"
said Brolin. "He's the panda that lives in my muffler. I met him
during the days when I was peddling mufflers for a living. Nobody
would give me a role. Not one stinking role, not even a soap. I
was drinking heavily and I was constantly wasted on exhaust fumes.
I was sitting at that intersection one day, while waiting for the
flipping director to queue me for the thirty-seventh take. It was
incredibly hot, and I'd been sucking carbon monoxide for the past
six straight hours. That's when Binky came up through the floorboards
and sat beside me in the passenger seat. He likes figs."
"Can I use your
phone?" asked Waters.
"Sorry, but It's
not my phone," replied Brolin, "it's Barbra's, and I'm not allowed
to loan out any of her stuff."
"Well," replied
Waters, "if you don't tell her I certainly won't."
Brolin leaned
forward and whispered in her ear, "She has cameras watching us right
now, trust me, she'll know."
"What would she
do?" whispered Waters.
Brolin began to
tremble, a look of unspeakable horror filled his face. He began
slightly rocking back and forth while humming a lullaby that Waters
couldn't quite put her finger on. She hastened into the kitchen
and began pouring him a glass of water.
"Don't touch Barbra's
water!" screamed Brolin, causing Waters to drop the glass upon the
kitchen floor with a crash.
Brolin dashed
into the kitchen and gazed upon the broken glass. "I'm dead," he
whispered.
"It's just a glass,"
said Waters, "I'll pay for it."
"She'll make me
dress up like Yentl again," said Brolin. "And she'll do those things
to me."
"What things?"
asked Waters.
Brolin leaned
over and whispered in her ear.
The blood drained
from Water's face, nausea overwhelmed her, and she heaved violently
into the kitchen sink.
"Oh, now I'm really
dead," said Brolin. "She just had that sink refinished."
Waters washed
quickly and took Brolin by the arm. "Come with me," she said, "we're
both getting out of here."
"That's useless,"
said Brolin, pulling away. "There's a helicopter on the roof which
follows me wherever I go. There's also a homing device implanted
in my brain. Go on," he said, waving towards the door, "save yourself."
Water's raced
for the door, flung it open and was confronted by The Barbra herself.
The Diva fixed Waters with an icy stare. Waters edged passed her
and scrambled into her car; she fumbled nervously in her purse for
the keys. Suddenly her blood ran cold, as from inside the house
she heard the bloodcurdling screams. "Yentl's been a bad girl again
mommy! No,
please, not the spiked brass bagel!"
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1999-2000 Ian Wolff. All rights
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