Final Audition

LEO (40s): A washed-up method actor, intense and slightly delusional.

CHLOE (20s): A sharp, pragmatic casting director's assistant.

Setting:

A stark, windowless audition room. Just a table, two chairs, and a small video camera on a tripod.

(The scene opens. CHLOE is sitting at the table, scrolling on her phone, looking bored. The door bursts open. LEO enters in character, wearing a full military uniform, covered in fake mud, breathing heavily.)

CHLOE

(Without looking up)

Name and agency?

LEO

(Pantomimes closing a heavy door behind him, scanning the room for threats.)

Lieutenant Colonel Maximus Stone, 4th Infantry. The agency is survival.

(He slams a manila folder onto the desk.)

CHLOE

(She looks up, unimpressed.)

Leo, is it? You're here for 'Office Drone #3.' The brief specifically asked for business casual.

LEO

(He leans over the table, eyes wide with intensity.)

'Casual' is a luxury the front lines don't afford, Miss...

CHLOE

Chloe. And the 'front line' is a spreadsheet about quarterly budgets. The scene is two lines: 'Yes, Mr. Henderson,' and 'Right away, sir.'

LEO

(He straightens up, adjusting his helmet.)

And what is Mr. Henderson, if not the enemy camp? The corporate machine? The relentless, soul-crushing bureaucracy we are sworn to dismantle?

CHLOE

(Sighs, picks up a clipboard.)

Look, we're running late. The director wants this role filled by lunch. Just say the lines into the camera, Leo.

LEO

(He paces to the center of the room, staring intently at the camera lens as if it were a mortal enemy.)

I can't just 'say the lines.' I have lived this character. For three weeks, I’ve only eaten instant coffee granules and slept on the floor to understand the desperate grind of the modern salaryman!

CHLOE

You ate instant coffee granules?

LEO

(Proudly)

It's the little details that build the reality! Now, tell me, where is my motivation? My backstory? Why am I saying 'Yes, Mr. Henderson' with such conviction? Is he blackmailing me? Did he steal my stapler?

CHLOE

(Deadpan)

Because he asked you to hand him a report. The stapler is just a stapler. Action!

(Chloe hits the record button on the camera.)

(LEO squares his shoulders, stares down the lens with the haunted eyes of a war veteran.)

LEO

(Voice shaking with an intense, dramatic tremble)

"Y-yes... Mr. Henderson..."

(He stares at Chloe, waiting for direction.)

CHLOE

And the second line. "Right away, sir."

LEO

(He takes a deep breath, building to a crescendo.)

"R-right away, sir!"

(He delivers the line with such emotional agony that he collapses slightly onto the table, wiping an imaginary tear of corporate despair from his eye.)

(Chloe stops the recording.)

CHLOE

Okay. We have it. Thank you, Leo. We'll be in touch.

LEO

(He slowly comes out of character, blinking rapidly, suddenly looking very tired.)

Did I capture the existential dread? The quiet desperation of the cubicle?

CHLOE

You were certainly... memorable. Take off the helmet before you leave; the lobby is a professional space.

(Leo nods sadly, picks up his manila folder, and shuffles out the door, the military boots clunking awkwardly on the linoleum floor.)

(Chloe leans back in her chair and takes a sip of her water, shaking her head. She hits play on the camera briefly.)

CHLOE

(To herself)

Still better than the guy who tap-danced it.

(FADE OUT)

Setting:

The stark audition room, a few minutes later.

(The scene opens. CHLOE is still sitting at the table, now eating an apple. The door opens again, hesitantly this time. A new actor, BRIAN (20s), enters. He is wearing an actual, slightly wrinkled business casual outfit and carrying a resume.)

BRIAN

(Nervously)

Hi. Brian Peters for the 12:15 slot? For Office Drone #3?

CHLOE

(Swallows a bite of apple, sighs deeply.)

Yes, come in, Brian. Take a seat.

(Brian sits stiffly in the chair Leo previously occupied. He looks around the room.)

BRIAN

So, I saw the last guy leave. Intense outfit. Did he get the part?

CHLOE

The jury's still out. The brief is simple. Two lines. You're assisting Mr. Henderson. He needs a report. You're helpful and efficient. Any questions?

BRIAN

(He places his resume on the table.)

No, seems straightforward.

CHLOE

Great. Action.

(Chloe presses the record button again. Brian looks at the camera, visibly trying to channel 'helpful and efficient'.)

BRIAN

(Clear and professional tone)

"Yes, Mr. Henderson."

(He pauses, waiting.)

CHLOE

And the next line. "Right away, sir."

(He finishes the line with a polite, but awkward, half-nod/half-bow.)

CHLOE

(She stops the recording.)

Okay. Thanks, Brian. We'll be in touch.

BRIAN

(Relieved, stands up.)

Wonderful. Thank you for the opportunity! Have a great day!

(Brian exits, closing the door quietly behind him. Chloe stares at the camera screen, watching the two vastly different takes back to back. She shakes her head and picks up her phone.)

CHLOE

(Into the phone)

Hey, Jerry. Yeah, they were all terrible. Except... maybe the military guy?

(A pause as she listens.)

CHLOE

I know, I know. 'Business casual.' But hear me out... what if Mr. Henderson is the real villain? What if the office is a battlefield? It adds layers!

(She listens again, nodding.)

CHLOE

Fine. I'll send you Brian's tape too. But the military guy has real range.

(She hangs up the phone, looking thoughtfully at the camera, a small smile forming on her face.)

(FADE OUT)

The Coffee Dilemma

SARAH (30s): Frazzled, running late, utterly dependent on caffeine.

MARK (30s): Calm, methodical, a self-proclaimed coffee connoisseur.

Setting:

A minimalist modern kitchen. A high-end espresso machine sits prominently on the counter.

(The scene opens with SARAH frantically searching a kitchen drawer, throwing utensils around.)

SARAH

(Muttering to herself)

Where is it? Where is it? The day hasn't even started, and it's already over.

(MARK enters, holding a single, perfectly ripe avocado.)

MARK

Morning, Sarah. Looking for something?

SARAH

The French press lid! It’s gone! Vanished! I swear it was here last night. The world is conspiring against my productivity.

MARK

Did you check the sink?

SARAH

(Scoffs, checks the sink)

Yes, Mark, I checked the sink. It's not in the sink. It's not in the dishwasher. It's simply not.

MARK

(He sets the avocado down and walks calmly to the espresso machine.)

You seem stressed. Perhaps a properly extracted, single-origin espresso would help?

SARAH

(She throws a whisk down in frustration.)

I don't have time for a properly extracted anything! I have a 9 AM meeting, and I can't function without my standard liter of darkly roasted, highly caffeinated sludge!

MARK

Your words wound me. "Sludge." This is art.

(He expertly grinds some beans and tamps them.)

SARAH

(She leans against the counter, defeated.)

I just need coffee. I don't care if it's art or biology experiments. Just caffeine. Please.

MARK

You know I don’t serve sludge. I only have these Ethiopian Yirgacheffes right now. Notes of jasmine and apricot. Very floral.

SARAH

Mark, if you don't give me caffeine in the next three minutes, the only note you're going to smell is despair and passive aggression.

MARK

(He pulls a perfect shot of espresso, a beautiful crema forming on top.)

Patience is a virtue, Sarah.

SARAH

So is basic human decency. Hand it over.

(He pours the espresso into a tiny cup and slides it across the counter to her.)

MARK

One ounce. Drink it slowly. Savour the complexity.

SARAH

(She stares at the tiny cup, then at him.)

One ounce? That's barely a sip! That's a teaser, not a coffee!

MARK

It’s concentrated flavour.

(Sarah grabs the tiny cup and downs it in one swift motion, shuddering slightly.)

SARAH

Apricot. Yeah, okay. Now I need about five more of those, and maybe a bagel.

MARK

(Smiling smugly)

Feeling better?

SARAH

Ask me again in exactly thirty seconds when the caffeine hits my bloodstream.

(She grabs her bag and runs for the door.)

SARAH

And buy a new French press lid!

(SARAH exits. MARK picks up his avocado and a knife, humming happily.)

(FADE OUT)

The Library of Lost Things

Characters:

ELARA (20s): A librarian with a quiet life and a vivid imagination.

MR. ARCHER (70s): A grumpy patron with a soft spot for the unusual.

THE BOOK (Voice-over): Melancholy, slightly dramatic.

Setting:

A dusty, old library after hours. Stacks of books line the tall shelves.

(The scene opens. ELARA is pushing a cart of books, humming softly. MR. ARCHER is sitting at a large oak table, glaring at a book.)

ELARA

Closing time soon, Mr. Archer. Did you find what you were looking for?

MR. ARCHER

(Snaps the book shut)

No. This thing is useless. Mentions the Battle of Hastings three times in one paragraph but can't tell me who invented the paperclip. Shoddy research.

ELARA

I believe that was Norwegian inventor Johan Vaaler.

MR. ARCHER

(He stares at her.)

Hmmph. Smarty pants.

(He gets up and shuffles his way towards the exit. Elara continues her work, organizing the return cart. She pulls out a worn, leather-bound book that doesn't have a visible title.)

ELARA

Well, you don't belong here.

(She opens it gently. The pages are blank at first, then words begin to shimmer and appear on the page.)

THE BOOK (V.O.)

(A low, resonant voice)

"I have been left behind. Again."

ELARA

(Jumps, looks around, then back at the book.)

Excuse me?

THE BOOK (V.O.)

"Oh, don't pretend you can't hear me, librarian. You're the only one who ever does."

ELARA

(Whispering urgently)

You can talk?

THE BOOK (V.O.)

"I can do much more than that. I contain the entire history of everything that was ever misplaced, forgotten, or simply lost."

(Elara frantically flips through the pages. The words describe mundane things: 'A single sock, blue argyle pattern, lost under a couch in Ohio.' 'A set of keys left in a taxi in London, 1998.')

ELARA

This is... impossible. Who lost you?

THE BOOK (V.O.)

"Everyone. And no one. Now, if you don't mind, I was rather enjoying my nap inside a discarded copy of 'Moby Dick'."

MR. ARCHER

(He re-enters, looking confused.)

Left my hat.

(He spots Elara talking to the book.)

MR. ARCHER

You’re talking to a book, girl? Finally losing it? The stress of organizing the Dewey Decimal system got you?

ELARA

(She quickly hides the book behind her back.)

Just... just practicing a monologue, Mr. Archer. Library regulations!

MR. ARCHER

(He narrows his eyes.)

Is that the Blank Book of Guff?

ELARA

The what?

MR. ARCHER

(He moves surprisingly fast and snatches the book from her hands.)

Gave this to my nephew years ago. Told him to write his own life in it. Idiot lost it on a bus.

THE BOOK (V.O.)

"A bus! The indignity! I was covered in pretzel salt!"

MR. ARCHER

(He ignores the voice and tucks the book under his arm.)

Come on. We've got a lot to catch up on, you old rogue.

(He turns to leave.)

ELARA

Wait! It's magic! It talks about lost things!

MR. ARCHER

(He pauses at the door, winks.)

Everything's magic if you look hard enough, Elara. Especially the stuff you find right where you left it.

(Mr. Archer exits with the book.)

(Elara stands alone, staring at the empty table, then slowly smiles.)

(FADE OUT)

LEO (40s): A washed-up method actor, intense and slightly delusional.

CHLOE (20s): A sharp, pragmatic casting director's assistant.

Setting:

A stark, windowless audition room. Just a table, two chairs, and a small video camera on a tripod.

(The scene opens. CHLOE is sitting at the table, scrolling on her phone, looking bored. The door bursts open. LEO enters in character, wearing a full military uniform, covered in fake mud, breathing heavily.)

CHLOE

(Without looking up)

Name and agency?

LEO

(Pantomimes closing a heavy door behind him, scanning the room for threats.)

Lieutenant Colonel Maximus Stone, 4th Infantry. The agency is survival.

(He slams a manila folder onto the desk.)

CHLOE

(She looks up, unimpressed.)

Leo, is it? You're here for 'Office Drone #3.' The brief specifically asked for business casual.

LEO

(He leans over the table, eyes wide with intensity.)

'Casual' is a luxury the front lines don't afford, Miss...

CHLOE

Chloe. And the 'front line' is a spreadsheet about quarterly budgets. The scene is two lines: 'Yes, Mr. Henderson,' and 'Right away, sir.'

LEO

(He straightens up, adjusting his helmet.)

And what is Mr. Henderson, if not the enemy camp? The corporate machine? The relentless, soul-crushing bureaucracy we are sworn to dismantle?

CHLOE

(Sighs, picks up a clipboard.)

Look, we're running late. The director wants this role filled by lunch. Just say the lines into the camera, Leo.

LEO

(He paces to the center of the room, staring intently at the camera lens as if it were a mortal enemy.)

I can't just 'say the lines.' I have lived this character. For three weeks, I’ve only eaten instant coffee granules and slept on the floor to understand the desperate grind of the modern salaryman!

CHLOE

You ate instant coffee granules?

LEO

(Proudly)

It's the little details that build the reality! Now, tell me, where is my motivation? My backstory? Why am I saying 'Yes, Mr. Henderson' with such conviction? Is he blackmailing me? Did he steal my stapler?

CHLOE

(Deadpan)

Because he asked you to hand him a report. The stapler is just a stapler. Action!

(Chloe hits the record button on the camera.)

(LEO squares his shoulders, stares down the lens with the haunted eyes of a war veteran.)

LEO

(Voice shaking with an intense, dramatic tremble)

"Y-yes... Mr. Henderson..."

(He stares at Chloe, waiting for direction.)

CHLOE

And the second line. "Right away, sir."

LEO

(He takes a deep breath, building to a crescendo.)

"R-right away, sir!"

(He delivers the line with such emotional agony that he collapses slightly onto the table, wiping an imaginary tear of corporate despair from his eye.)

(Chloe stops the recording.)

CHLOE

Okay. We have it. Thank you, Leo. We'll be in touch.

LEO

(He slowly comes out of character, blinking rapidly, suddenly looking very tired.)

Did I capture the existential dread? The quiet desperation of the cubicle?

CHLOE

You were certainly... memorable. Take off the helmet before you leave; the lobby is a professional space.

(Leo nods sadly, picks up his manila folder, and shuffles out the door, the military boots clunking awkwardly on the linoleum floor.)

(Chloe leans back in her chair and takes a sip of her water, shaking her head. She hits play on the camera briefly.)

CHLOE

(To herself)

Still better than the guy who tap-danced it.

(FADE OUT)

Characters:

Setting:

The stark audition room, a few minutes later.

(The scene opens. CHLOE is still sitting at the table, now eating an apple. The door opens again, hesitantly this time. A new actor, BRIAN (20s), enters. He is wearing an actual, slightly wrinkled business casual outfit and carrying a resume.)

BRIAN

(Nervously)

Hi. Brian Peters for the 12:15 slot? For Office Drone #3?

CHLOE

(Swallows a bite of apple, sighs deeply.)

Yes, come in, Brian. Take a seat.

(Brian sits stiffly in the chair Leo previously occupied. He looks around the room.)

BRIAN

So, I saw the last guy leave. Intense outfit. Did he get the part?

CHLOE

The jury's still out. The brief is simple. Two lines. You're assisting Mr. Henderson. He needs a report. You're helpful and efficient. Any questions?

BRIAN

(He places his resume on the table.)

No, seems straightforward.

CHLOE

Great. Action.

(Chloe presses the record button again. Brian looks at the camera, visibly trying to channel 'helpful and efficient'.)

BRIAN

(Clear and professional tone)

"Yes, Mr. Henderson."

(He pauses, waiting.)

CHLOE

And the next line. "Right away, sir."

(He finishes the line with a polite, but awkward, half-nod/half-bow.)

CHLOE

(She stops the recording.)

Okay. Thanks, Brian. We'll be in touch.

BRIAN

(Relieved, stands up.)

Wonderful. Thank you for the opportunity! Have a great day!

(Brian exits, closing the door quietly behind him. Chloe stares at the camera screen, watching the two vastly different takes back to back. She shakes her head and picks up her phone.)

CHLOE

(Into the phone)

Hey, Jerry. Yeah, they were all terrible. Except... maybe the military guy?

(A pause as she listens.)

CHLOE

I know, I know. 'Business casual.' But hear me out... what if Mr. Henderson is the real villain? What if the office is a battlefield? It adds layers!

(She listens again, nodding.)

CHLOE

Fine. I'll send you Brian's tape too. But the military guy has real range.

(She hangs up the phone, looking thoughtfully at the camera, a small smile forming on her face.)

(FADE OUT)

BRIAN

"Right away, sir."

(Epilogue Scene)

Setting:

A sound mixing studio in Los Angeles. It’s dark except for the light from a large mixing console. The DIRECTOR (50s, tired, chewing on a toothpick) and an ASSISTANT sit in swivel chairs.

(The scene opens. The ASSISTANT is playing back the audio from LEO’s audition tape.)

LEO (V.O. - from the previous recording)

"...the relentless, soul-crushing bureaucracy we are sworn to dismantle!"

DIRECTOR

(Groans)

Oh, the drama. Fast forward that. Where’s the actual take?

(The ASSISTANT fast-forwards. The audio cuts to the lines.)

LEO (V.O.)

"Y-yes... Mr. Henderson..."

(LEO's voice is raw, trembling with intense, manufactured emotion.)

LEO (V.O.)

"R-right away, sir!"

(The DIRECTOR freezes the console, chewing his toothpick thoughtfully.)

ASSISTANT

We have Brian’s tape too. He was very... normal. Competent.

(The ASSISTANT plays Brian's audio.)

BRIAN (V.O.)

"Yes, Mr. Henderson." (Pause) "Right away, sir."

DIRECTOR

Boring. Utterly boring. This is a show about a boring office, yes, but we need stakes! We need someone who can sell the weight of handing over a quarterly report!

ASSISTANT

So... you want the military uniform guy?

DIRECTOR

(Nods slowly, a manic light in his eyes)

He saw something in Mr. Henderson. He saw an adversary, a corporate beast. He gave me depth! He gave me a man whose soul is being crushed by the mundane request of a middle manager!

ASSISTANT 

He ate coffee granules for method acting, sir.

DIRECTOR

Exactly! Dedication! Call casting. Tell them Leo the war veteran—no, Leo the office veteran—got the part. And tell the writers we need a subplot where Mr. Henderson actually did steal his stapler. We need to validate his choices.

(The ASSISTANT sighs, pulling out their phone.)

(The DIRECTOR smiles, hitting replay on Leo's pained "Right away, sir!" soundbite.)

(FADE OUT)

Setting:

A typical, gray, open-plan office set on a sound stage a week later. Cubicles stretch into the distance. It is bustling with crew members setting up lights and moving equipment.

(The scene opens. LEO, now in a standard, ill-fitting gray suit, stands near the water cooler. He is sipping from a small paper cup, his eyes darting around the room, analyzing every extra and crew member with military precision.)

(CHLOE walks onto the set, holding a clipboard, looking for someone.)

CHLOE

Leo! There you are. The director wants you for blocking.

(Leo turns, still highly intense.)

LEO

Chloe. The environment is suboptimal. High exposure levels in the northern quadrant of the set. The lighting guy needs to fall back.

CHLOE

(Sighs)

That’s Dave, and he needs to light the scene. You look… uncomfortable in the suit.

LEO

(Pulls at the collar)

It chafes. It feels like a uniform designed for psychological torture rather than utility. I’ve been living in a real office for the last 48 hours to get used to the sensory deprivation.

CHLOE

You don’t have to do that, Leo. Just act.

LEO

I don't act, Chloe. I become. The fluorescent lights, the bland carpet, the smell of burnt popcorn at 10 AM... it is the true theatre of the absurd.

(The DIRECTOR walks over, chewing his toothpick, looking pleased.)

DIRECTOR

Leo! Our Office Drone #3! Ready for action? We’re shooting your big moment.

LEO

(Stiffens to attention)

Ready for deployment, sir!

DIRECTOR

Wonderful! Okay, the scene is simple. You’re at your desk. Henderson—that’s BOB, over there—asks for the report. You stand up, hand it to him with that look of existential despair you nailed in the audition, and you say your line.

(The DIRECTOR directs LEO to a cubicle. BOB (50s), a very large, imposing actor playing MR. HENDERSON, sits at the opposite desk.)

DIRECTOR

Alright, Bob, you’re busy reading the paper. You don't even look at him. Just reach out your hand for the paper. Action!

BOB

Gruffly)

Report.

(Leo stares at the offered hand. His entire body tenses. His eyes widen, fixating on Bob/Henderson.)

LEO

(Voice trembling with the intensity of a man facing down a dragon)

"Yes, Mr. Henderson."

(He places the manila folder into Bob’s hand with trembling caution, as if handing over a live grenade.)

LEO

(Building tension)

"Right away, sir!"

(He holds the gaze for three seconds too long, his eyes pleading for understanding, a tear almost forming.)

DIRECTOR

Cut!

(The Director pumps his fist.)

DIRECTOR

Brilliant! Oscar caliber corporate trauma! That's the one!

(Bob looks confused, staring at the folder in his hand. Chloe shakes her head, smiling faintly in the background. Leo stands perfectly still, breathing hard, finally satisfied with his performance.)

(FADE OUT)

(The scene begins. Bob grunts and reaches a hand out, not looking up from his paper.)