My name is John Spencer and I'm an actor. Not some A-list actor like Tom Cruise or Benedict Cumberbatch, but a solid B-list guy, well maybe C list. But I work pretty steady as a guest star or support role. Nothing big, nothing blockbuster, but steady, good roles that pay the rent.
So when I go the call from my agent, Barry Long, to star, not just background, actually star, in a made-for-TV deal. I jumped at it. Now, he didn't have to, but my agent made the part even sweeter.
"John, I think it's a great part for you. It has two aspects, one in present-day, one in the past."
I whined about that. Sometimes I can be a whiner, so my friends tell me. "A time-period piece? Come on, Barry. Can't you get me in some uber-contemporary, quirky next-door-neighbor, steady employment thing?" I rock the quirky neighbor, probably because though I am devastatingly handsome, I am not Brad Pitt devastatingly handsome. I'm more Eddie Haskell handsome. Yeah, picture that for a second. Anyway...
"I think you are going to love this role, Johnny-boy," Barry said. I hate when he calls me Johnny-boy. I'm not a Walton, dude.
"Yeah? Give me some carrot, Barry."
"This project is based on one of Daniel Henry's short stories." I almost dropped the frickin' phone.
"Say that again," I schmoozed.
Barry laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'll say it slow the way you like. Daniel Henry."
"Lead?"
