Dottier Than Mini Mouse’s Dress
Dear William Price,
Thank you for bothering to send me the rejection letter for the role of ‘Psycho Bitch’ in the movie Kill Bill. I appreciate the time you spent cutting and pasting my name to the top of the generic letter while cutting up my dream of becoming famous. Do not fear (I don’t want you loosing sleep on this) I have pasted it all back together.
While at casting I overheard you say about me, ‘She is pretty but she needs more experience, I don’t find her believable for this role, she’s more of a dainty damsel in distress. I mean look at her fragile hands’. Firstly- thank you! I am utterly attractive. Hotter than a hot potato! Hotter than the sun! Hotter than a hot potato being cooked by a fireman on fire on the sun.
Anyway secondly, the thing is, I took your words to heart. I am a method actor after all. I started by hurling abuse at your darling lead. I thought maybe I’d learn from her, help her get into the role. She wasn’t very good at the game. I called her a hippo-bum head, with more wrinkles then the Queen after she had been swimming and a crusty dehydrated prune combined. She laughed. Not a malicious or maniacal laugh. A ‘you’re a comedian as good as Will Anderson’ laugh. I shook my fist in her general direction and told her to watch out, fame came with quite a price, in my most vicious tone spitting venomous explicit words. And can you believe she stopped laughing and said I should have got the role, I was coming across a ‘little crazy’ with my knife in one hand and my gun in the other. And she was right. I am dottier than Mini Mouse’s dress. I don’t need to act the role of ‘Psycho Bitch’ anymore, you will find I have adequate life experience now.
To add to my method acting though, I thought I should probably kill a man too. Originally I was thinking illegal immigrant, someone none-one would miss. A bit of stab-bang-stab and boom. FAME. That’s what I am about, fame. I don’t need to act. If I play out a real ‘Kill Bill’, you and I will be on every cover magazine and newspaper. I’m sure you can see the irony now of a man with your name dying over a ‘Kill Bill’ movie and the ‘price of fame’.
So here is what I want you to fear, my friend along with your anxious, frightful distress at burnt coffee, low movie sales and having peanut butter caught on the roof of your mouth. Fear me. (Insert mad laughter in here). Or hire me buddy. I need fame, you conveniently need an actress to play ‘Psycho Bitch’. Remember unlike the movies you will only die once. Have a nice day, hugs and kisses and all that jazz.
Candy Smith (You don’t want a real life ‘Candy Crush’, do you?)