The garage door was freshly vandalized with graffiti, a lone tag by the artist tucked down at the bottom: Lounge Cupid.
The essence of the scene was captured masterfully: the artist had painted the garage with a big, styled hairdo and a tailored Costume, holding a swaddled baby that looked more like a doghouse. The whole thing was boldly titled: Motherly Love.
Evelyn studied the masterpiece and finally gave her verdict:
There's... something to Looks like your poster campaign got the attention of more than just wannabe actors. You reeled in a whole ecosystem of creative art- freaks.
Let's just hope they're not — Flora replied. The woman shrugged and motioned toward the interior: We got our fresh air, now let's see what we actually That was a hell of a day, and I swear I've never been this exhausted — not even when I had to listen to my ex- husband whimpering about dividing our furniture. Did you transfer all the footage from the camera to your laptop? Yeah, But maybe not tonight? My head's ringing like a church bell and I feel kinda sick. The girl pleaded, giving her companion big puppy But Evelyn was not the merciful type:
If we've started it, we're gonna finish Let's not lose the momentum.
All the garage walls were covered with flags from countries Lorenzo and Camillo had visited on their many adventures. The sheer overload of color was blinding — but as Evelyn aptly pointed out:
Better that than staring at wrenches and -
Flora's friends were in Tanzania and weren't coming back for a few days, so the garage was fair game — open 24/7, no strings attached.
In the back, next to the far wall, stood a massive iron table — no clue how it even got there — but it lent some real gravitas to the - casting process.- That's where the two - talent acquisition specialists,- Flora and Evelyn, sat, having lined up a few chairs for the hopefuls ready to dive face- first into showbiz.
The Copy didn't get her own chair — which deeply offended the aspiring auteur. She alternated between swinging her legs from the tabletop and perching on Auntie's lap like a spoiled cat.
Things kicked off at 8 a.m. sharp, and they didn't wrap until 9 p.m., finally booting out the last contestant — a dude who insisted on showing card tricks, which prompted Evelyn to offer to demonstrate the epic vanishing act of him.
Every file dumped from the camera's hard drive was now named after the actors — or at least their nicknames (makes sense, right?). Auntie wanted to watch them all in order, but her niece shut that idea down.
Flora had a decent memory and a strong gut feeling about who had potential — and who should be gracefully exiled to the folder: Not Sure. Maybe…
Evelyn, why waste our time on people who are obviously not it? Remember the… But what didn't they see that day?
The moment the two makeshift filmmakers approached the infamous garage, they found a cluster of humans milling about — chatting, snacking, laughing, or throwing side- eye at rival contenders.
Evelyn scratched her head at the spectacle. Her eyes couldn't settle on any one person — everyone looked too exotic, too out there. Flora tried to unfocus her gaze so everyone would feel equally unfamiliar. She was also dying of nerves.
Digging through her coat pockets, the future director unlocked the garage and stood by the entrance, waiting for her aunt to power up and calibrate the camera. They'd prepped the place earlier, though it was already pretty clean — the owners clearly took pride in the garage, even if it hadn't housed a single car in ages.
Once everything was ready, Flora flung open the door and shouted:
Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I really hope this turns out fun for all of us, and that nobody feels bad even if things don't work Now, please line up and come in one at a time. Stays organized, and — please — no pushing.
As soon as she said that, there was a stir in the crowd of newcomers, and two people pushed their way through the others, ignoring the shouts of protest. Flora barely managed to dart back inside, and right after her, the two intruders entered, shutting the gate behind them.
Sorry, but we're only letting people in one at a time! — protested Evelyn in her usual casting- maker tone, but was gently cut off by an elderly man with a monocle, thick mustache, and a shaved head: We're merely part of the I'm the interpreter, and Faruz here — he gestured to a giant man with a curly beard — serves as personal bodyguard to Mr. Bulla.
Only now did Flora notice, somewhere around Faruz's knees, a small child in a gray hoodie, wearing a skullcap, with the look of a deeply depressed pug, pulling strawberries from his pocket and popping them into his mouth one by one.
Evelyn even lowered the camera slightly and exclaimed:
Ladies and gentlemen, maybe we didn't specify this in the casting call, but we thought it was obvious. We're happy to see kids for auditions, but only if they're accompanied by a We can't legally hire a child without proper consent!
The boy began trembling and stomping in outrage, his tiny legs clad in blood- red moon boots — each one nearly half his size. From his mouth burst a furious, birdlike chirping speech, clearly directed at Aunt Evelyn. She resumed filming and chuckled, glancing at the camera display:
Sorry, kid, but you're out of my weight class. When I make it big and start repping the Smurfs, we'll totally set up a match under boxing rules. Auntie! — Flora gasped, covering her mouth — that's voice- shaming! How can you speak that way to such a distinguished guest? I'm so sorry, please forgive us! Auntie didn't mean it! Please, have a seat.
Mr. Bulla gave a satisfied snort and, graciously accepting the apology, strutted over to the chair. His entourage silently followed. The security guard found a large wooden crate and placed it on the seat. The contestant climbed up and now sat face- to- face with his potential employer.
She looked at the child awkwardly and began to speak softly:
Bulla, we'd like to inform you right away that for our upcoming campaign, we won't be able to pay honorariums to actors. We're operating on a volunteer basis, purely in the name of Art itself. Flora nodded toward the boy's staff, implying… well, her aunt quickly spelled it out:
What my niece is trying to say is — how long did you have to save up your school lunch money to afford such a backup crew? What did you do, Mr. Bulla, sell NFTs in preschool?
Flora's heart clenched again, and she clutched her chest, apologizing profusely once more. But her words had zero effect on the furious little man, who was now aggressively swinging his legs in the air, thumping his heels against the crate. Meanwhile, the bodyguard cracked his neck — and, while at it, his massive knuckles.
Copy raised her index finger to the sky and shook it solemnly:
Before you stands a true success story — someone who knows what he wants and surfs the tidal waves of ambition like a pro. And all our aunt can do is insult such an honorable gentleman.
Shameful!
The interpreter raised his palms in a conciliatory gesture and offered:
Let's not fight. There's clearly been a misunderstanding, which I'm sure we can fix. You mistakenly assumed that Mr. Bulla is a child, but in fact, he may very well be older than you, dear director. But that's okay, because we can— Kneel! — The dictator suddenly squeaked, and this time, everyone understood what he
Oh, come on, I only kneel for R'n'B stars and orthopedic – Evelyn chuckled.
Then came a passionate monologue in his chirpy language, which the interpreter quickly relayed:
My employer demands proper respect be shown. He requests that the lady in question — he gestured to Evelyn, who was now shaking from silent laughter — behave with dignity and kneel before him as a sign of deep remorse and recognition of her wrongdoing. Then we can proceed with the If you refuse… then you'll have your interview with Faruz instead. And that one might be a little more… dramatic than any of us would prefer.
Flora's gaze darted between all participants in the unfolding chaos. Her mind raced to figure out what to do. Her aunt, unfazed by the rising tension, cheerfully agreed:
Of course! In fact, I'm even ready to issue a public apology right out there on the street so everyone can see it. That way, I hope, I'll meet all the expectations of His Majesty… umm… Mister Bulla!
Delighted, Mr. Bulla threw his arms triumphantly into the air—only to overbalance and tumble forward off the crate. His bodyguard barely managed to catch his terrified boss in time and began rocking him in his arms, trying to calm him down.
A couple of minutes later, the entire entourage headed toward the gate, while Evelyn bowed graciously, inviting the trio to exit first. The moment they stepped over the threshold, the operator, moving with surprising and previously unseen speed, slammed the rolling shutter down. A second later, heavy pounding echoed from outside. Some of the thuds were deep and thunderous, shaking the very doorframe; others were lighter, frantic jabs coming from somewhere lower to the ground.
Auntie, why are you doing this?! — Flora cried, her voice trembling with — Don't they deserve an apology after what you said? Go out there and apologize right now! First time I agree with you, Whiny McLoser. Keep pushing, don't let Aunt Slappy wiggle out of this one! — Copy chimed in. — I mean, How dare you insult such a powerful man… Wonder if he's married? Sweetheart, hush, please. — Evelyn winced, then shouted toward the door: — If you don't get out of here this instant, I'm calling the cops and having your asses arrested! You've got till the count of three… two…
She didn't need to finish the countdown. The banging ceased immediately, leaving nothing but silence. After a cautious pause, Evelyn rolled the shutter back up to find the crowd of contestants staring at her in stunned silence. The offenders, however, were nowhere to be seen—they were already pedaling away on bicycles, with one of them riding in the basket at the back.
Auntie, we are so not done with this conversation… — Flora
So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about back then? — Evelyn asked curiously, referring to the moment they had just watched on the footage.
The girl hesitated and looked away, shyly asking for her partner's opinion on the candidate.
Let's put him in the - Possible Candidates - And if we do pick him, we'll make sure to come to every shoot fully armed… with blasters. I We should take him. That way we'll get rid of the guilt we're carrying… Evelyn cut her off: Would you stop apologizing to everyone already? Play the next video…
They didn't agree on the second possible participant either—this time Flora objected, and here's why...
A young girl trudged heavily into the garage space, clad in a full- body mascot costume of uncertain content: it looked like it could've been dough… or concrete… or…
Sweetheart, why — if you don't mind me being blunt — why on Earth did you decide to dress up as… poop? — Evelyn offered her usual tactful take.
To everyone's surprise, unlike the previous candidate, the girl didn't seem fazed at all. She calmly replied that yes, in a way that was the idea— because what she was wearing was water- dampened gluten. Or, to put it another way—pure evil incarnate.
Then she started gesturing enthusiastically, explaining that this gray, sticky substance eventually morphs into the accursed bread and baked goods that plague humanity. And those are just as dangerous to modern civilization as terrorism, climate change, hunger, and the impending zombie apocalypse.
But… aren't baked goods actually one of the best ways to fight hunger? — Evelyn murmured Auntie, what is wrong with you?! Can't you see this noble mission for what it is? — Flora shot back. — Please, take a seat, dear lady (I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name). You're among friends here—we're eco- friendly and gluten- free, so make yourself at home!
Taking up the offer, the rebel girl somehow managed to perch herself on the edge of the chair, wrestling with her bulky outfit, and passionately launched into her dream.
She wanted to use cinema to draw humanity's attention to all the aforementioned problems and questions. Surely, she said, governments and ordinary people should finally start caring about health—after all, Health defines the length of your life, your satisfaction with it, the health of your future children, and then… she fainted, collapsing face- first onto the edge of the table.
A heavy sigh from Flora echoed through the entire audition center, making Evelyn nearly choke on a bite of her sesame bun, which she was miraculously managing to eat while still filming the contestant.
The girl was quickly revived, and her rebellious spirit immediately demanded satisfaction in the form of an apology from the camera operator—who had dared to bring his Gluten Babylon into what was supposed to be a safe, flour- prejudice- free space.
The culprit behind the actress's sudden decline just shrugged guiltily and, as a peace offering, pulled out a second bun from her bag.
Lady, you are absolutely unbearable! — Flora huffed and shut off the recording without even watching it to the end. — How can you behave like that in public?
What did I do? What's the big deal?! — the woman — So we didn't quite click with that cheesecake missy, but the next contestant was totally fine! Or wasn't she? Go on, hit play!
There was a quiet knock on the garage door, even though it wasn't locked. Flora immediately appreciated the courtesy and opened it, letting in an Asian girl with long hair tied in a ponytail and bold 80s- style makeup.
The next artist rolled in, riding a sleek modern motorized wheelchair. Pithecanthropuses would've called it a - handicap chair,- but as Flora thought back then—and still now—- We've surpassed those ancient folks both in tech and in cultural sensitivity, so this contestant is clearly arriving in a personal mobility vehicle for internal and external transit of unique individuals.
Despite her soft knocking, the girl instantly felt at ease in the space. She zipped up to the table, flashing a bright, friendly smile. Flora froze for a moment by the desk, but the contestant quickly reassured her:
You don't have to worry about the chair! I brought my — Then she burst into a sweet, clear laugh that immediately won everyone over.
Evelyn lifted one hand from the camera—not to sneak another bite this time, but to flash a thumbs- up:
You've got a sense of humor, miss. I approve!
How could I not? — Chirped the upbeat actress. — I try to give the world the best of me, and sometimes, the world surprises me right back—like this audition, for — She winked at Flora, who gave her a shy smile in return.
That's I'm glad you're in such a good place. May I ask your name?
My name is I was born in Cambodia but have lived in the U.S. since I was little—I'm a citizen of our shared country.
The ladies introduced themselves in turn, and the would- be director hurried to launch into her carefully prepared script for the first time today:
Delighted to welcome you, Miss Vanna! Please excuse the formal tone—I'm quite inexperienced in matters of negotiation, so I might overdo the official lingo... and I tend to stumble a bit, too. Oh dear… — muttered Copy under her — Who starts negotiations by announcing their incompetence and putting themselves in a weak position?
Thankfully, no one heard her. The actress, instead, grinned even wider and offered the director a hug:
Don't worry, Miss It's my first casting too, so I'm thrilled I'm not the only newbie here. Let's make history together!
Truly, it is so. It has begun! They shall create Art! — Copy raised her hands to the heavens and rolled her eyes back in mock- spiritual ecstasy, trembling like she was channeling divine Flora ignored her completely and turned to Vanna with a polite smile. The tactile contestant hugged her again.
And so, on this cheerful note, the director explained that actors wouldn't be paid for their participation—something that didn't faze the unshakeable Vanna in the slightest. Nothing seemed capable of rattling her.
Not a problem at all. I don't need money. What matters more is this: may I begin the monologue I've prepared for the audition? Well, the thing is… — Flora — Our film will be fully improvised, and I'm actually not looking for prepared speeches. On the contrary, I want to reveal real people on camera. I dream of seeing who they truly are—not who they're pretending to be. Screw Stanislavsky! — Copy blurted out, instantly regretting it and awkwardly — Sorry, it's just… I'm coming down from the banquet. We were celebrating a holiday called -
Headliner's Day.
The words Flora had just spoken touched the girl even more deeply, and she admitted that with every passing second, she liked being here more and more.
Then just tell us about That'll be enough for me. — The director suggested. I'm a beginner unisex fashion designer, and in all the different styles of clothing, I try to see not just fashion or wearability, but also... She's trying to deliver unto us, the poor and pitiful, her grand Artistic Vision! — Copy exclaimed theatrically and mimed holding an invisible skull, imitating a well- known stage character. I just wanna come up with something fun, something that sticks in your memory. — Vanna wrapped it up simply and without frills, much to the surprise of the — I've got bags of my clothes in the trunk behind the stroller. Open 'em up and try stuff on if you're interested. I'd be so happy! You're both so sweet!
When Flora tried to protest that this could be done after the audition, Evelyn brushed her aside and pulled out two large sacks from the designated area. The bags had no brand logo printed on them.
Oh! I forgot to put the label on the bags! — the designer slapped her — Well, no
biggie, they're just prototypes. Once we go into mass production, I'll fix that. Promise. So? What do you think?!