SDF Audition - Part 3

After some bus switching, they arrived at the studio. Umozozi grunted excitedly. He marveled at the topiary weasels that adorned the entrance way. The other baboons couldn’t even dream of a place like this. The female baboons would be impressed when they found he was a big time writer at Spiral Down.

Jo's limbs trembled from anticipation when the studio came into view. She clung to the belief that even if the contest was a sham, that at the very least, it would serve as a nice distraction from their troubles. At best, a new job. And a chance to make a difference on how insects are represented.

The two approached the entrance. A well-muscled female crocodile in blue jeans and a rainbow beater with the word “security “ written on it, looked down at them.  “Well?”

Umozozi eyed the crocodile nervously. “Vulgare sent us, for the um… competition.”

Instantly, the crocodile’s harsh expression turned into a wide smile. “Vulgare certainly finds some strange ones. Well, not to worry, I’ll get Winston right away. You stay here.”

The crocodile walked into the studio. For a moment, everything was still. Then the stillness exploded into a purple flash. A brown weasel dressed in matching red flannel appeared out of the flash. Trumpets and saxophones blared in perfect timing to the weasel’s movement. Then the weasel noticed the baboon and mantidfly. The weasel put a hand up, and the music abruptly stopped and the purple light evaporated. Umozozi looked around for a big jazz band or speakers. Neither was in sight.

The music and purple light caught Josefina by surprise. The flashy display spooked her. She instantly reached for her scarf with one foreleg, trying to block where the light had come from with her other.

“Vulgare, huh? I know spies when I see them. And you two look like a couple of spies,” the weasel said,

At the sound of a new voice, Josefina peeked from underneath a raised foreleg.

"Spies?" she repeated him in confusion, tilting her head to the side. "We're not spies. We’re here for the competition that one of your agents told us about. Said his name was Vulgare"

Umozozi shied away from the weasel, an alarm bark escaping from his throat. He tried to stand up taller, but simply shrank back

“That’s right,” Umozozi said weakly, “Vulgare sent us. We used to write for Equinox. But, well we um… decided to try for greener pastures. And according to Vulgare, your contest would be perfect.”

Winston glared at the baboon and mantidfly. He held his paw to his chin and looked the timid duo over a few times. He seemed to be carefully considering their words.

“You can’t fool me! The things I have seen! The wars I have fought! I have been to hell and back, and heaven a time or two.  Though heaven was kind of bore between you and me.  But that’s hardly the point!” the weasel yelled dramatically, and then paused for effect. “A monkey in a suit and an overgrown insect come waltzing in asking to be in my contest claiming to be from some phony magazine. I know what this is.”

The crocodile security women rolled her eyes, and returned to reading a magazine. If the weasel noticed, he certainly didn’t pay attention. If anything it only encouraged his histrionics.

“A monkey and a bug would never work together. You two have come here, sent from one of my rivals, trying to steal all my secrets. Vulgare is a good kid, but he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. You better have some proof of identity, or Martha here will eat you for lunch.”

The crocodile let out a exasperated sigh. “I can just call their old company. Nobody has to be eaten. I had a very delicious egg salad sandwich for lunch, and I’m quite full.”

Winston made a shushing noise. Martha rolled her eyes again.

At a loss for how to respond, the mantidfly held her ground silently. She couldn't help but make the assumption Winston’s distrust came from prejudice. She had experienced that countless times before.

Umozozi was cowering behind his friend. The only thing that had kept him from giving into his baboon instincts and leaping into the topiary was the hope of a new job. He handed the weasel a manuscript.  It was “Insecticide”. The weasel snatched it from the baboon’s hands, and started reading.

“See? There's no need to call our former employer," Jo piped up, watching the weasel nervously as he eyed the manuscript. "Can... can we enter this contest or not?"

The baboon had lost his voice. Winston Weasel was unpredictable. Umozozi had always brushed off the rumors about Spiral Down’s cast and crew disappearances as utter nonsense. Now he was starting to believe every word.

The weasel ignored the duo as his eyes went up and down the manuscript. He gasped a few times and shook his head. At one point he angrily threw the manuscript to the ground and picked it back up again.

After what seemed like an anguished eternity to both Umozozi and Josefina, the weasel broke the silence. “I guess your story checks out. Although well written, this is typical magazine rhetoric. Always behind or ahead of the times. Any moron that goes outside could tell you the public won’t take to something like this. It would never sell.” Winston’s eyes flashed thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, in any case, my apologies for being suspicious. You must understand, a Mustelidae like me is in very high demand, and everyone wants to steal my secrets. But enough about glorious me, welcome to the Spiral Down competition!”

Jo knew the weasel’s assertions were correct about the public, though she didn’t want to believe it. Was it wrong to expect more out of everybody? She stood upright at his apology, tipping her head in acknowledgement.

"Thanks," she said, still wary, but grateful to be accepted in the competition.

The baboon smiled and composed himself, “Thank you. I hope my friend and I can do you proud!’

Winston Weasel then clapped his hands and the studio doors creaked open.  “You may enter my glorious kingdom. The competition starts tomorrow. I will explain your first task then. Until then, please enjoy the snacks in the green room. Oh! And feel free to sleep or rest anywhere, so long as you don’t get in my talent agents’ way.”

And with that, the weasel was gone.