My dad decided to take on a new profession as a talent agent. His first client/act was an older fella who looked a little like Steve Martin or Johnny Carson but who's talents were unknown to me. My dad was a little anxious or nervous about his first pitch happening in the morning so he called on me to give him tips and perhaps critique his salesmanship. He had purchased a new outfit for his client much like the outfits my dad always sported while I was growing up.
"What do you think about his get up?"
"Well dad, if you guys are auditioning for a part as twins you just might get it."
"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." He said then sped off.
Left to my own devices I concentrated my attention on a chubby but cute little 8 or 9 year old girl sitting in the old worn out bleachers. She was dressed in a dark blue Little Bo Peep type dress and she was looking at me as if she wanted to ask me a question.
"What can I do for you young lady?"
"I have an audition tomorrow as well, do you mind giving me some pointers?"
"What is your talent?"
"Oh I don't really know."
"Can you sing?"
"Anybody can sing"
"Can you act?"
"I can act like a turtle."
"Well then I suggest you put together an act that involves a singing turtle."
Upon that suggestion the rest of the patrons seated in the old bleachers erupted in applause. At first I thought the applause was due to my excellent advice but then I noticed all the band equipment around me and remembered that I was there to perform. As usual, I arrived having rehearsed nothing, thinking that winging it is the true testament of pure genius. The big tortoise shell drums were there, I could play those, my guitar amp was there but a dog had peed on it so that wasn't a very good option. I dug through the trunk of odd instruments and found an old set of funny vaudeville horns. I knew what they were immediately but they were of a design that I hadn't previously seen. They were covered in the same type of yellowed and weathered fabric which you might find on some old vintage luggage from the 40s or 50s. I pressed the button on the bigger horn and it made a very nice air raid type siren noise and I muttered to myself;
"This is gonna be a good sound effect during the symphony."
Then I pressed the button on the smaller horn and it let out the loudest, most realistic wet fart noise any non-butthole could possibly make. The old women sitting in the bleachers giggled with delight so I pointed it straight at them and did it again much to the merriment of all in attendance. Nothing better than a functional amplified fart button at your fingertips when you're in the entertainment business.
My dad returned with his client who I then recognized actually WAS Johnny Carson. I'm not sure why I didn't recognize him before. Probably because you wouldn't expect your dad to decide to become a talent agent one day only to have one of the most desirable talents in the world as a client the next day. Nevermind the fact that said talent is in fact dead, although that didn't occur to me at the time either.
Johnny Carson began making beard small talk with me, explaining that he always wanted to have a beard but the studio execs wouldn't allow it.
"Well, in order to avoid that screw up next time, I would suggest that you arrive to your audition tomorrow sporting a beard. It's not beards that execs hate, It's change." I said.
Johnny Carson smiled, reached into his pocket and pulled out some spirit gum beard glue and a nice puff of gray beard hair and in less than a minute was sporting a very realistic well groomed beard.
"I like it. Thanks Merkley" Johnny said.
"Yeah, thanks. You're a good son, you're my good son." my dad said as he squeezed my arm and rubbed my hair.
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