(We commence in a very crowded room. It resembles the waiting room of a surgery, only much larger. The camera scans the room, with many people sitting on steel fold up chairs, reading, knitting, fidgeting. Even more are standing up, reading from sheets of paper, or doing deep breathing exercises.

A blue door opens and a rather gruff looking man appears holding a clipboard.)

Gruff Man: Thomas Norah Starr! Calling a Thomas Norah Starr!

(Quite a few people chuckle before resuming their activities. One of the seated individuals gets to his feet, head held low, covered by a baseball cap and heads over to the rather gruff looking man.)

Baseball cap wearing man: Just call me Tommy Starr OK?

Gruff Man: Whatever.

(The duo enter a room and the blue door closes. We cut to a smaller room which is very sparse bar a small card table behind which an elderly looking lady sits. A second chair lies empty, presumeably for the gruff man.)

Starr: So, where do you want me?

(The gruff looking man hands Starr a feather headdress and Starr accepts it.)

Gruff Man: Put this on.

Starr: OK.

(Starr stands there looking at the gruff man and elderly woman.)

Starr: Well?

Elderly woman: Well what?

Starr: Turn around, can't a Superstarr have his privacy?

(The two turn around, and Starr removes his baseball cap to reveal a small scattering of growing hair, reddish in colour. He quickly puts the headdress on.)

Starr: Tommy Starr is ready!

(The duo turn back around and the gruff man hands Starr a bunch of paper.)

Gruff Man: OK, you are reading for our remake of Last of the Mohicans, go ahead.

(Starr walks to the centre of the room, and takes some deep breaths. Finally after what seems like an eternity, he begins.)

Starr: (leaning forward and putting on a deep barotone voice) I confess I have not been without my own suspicions, though I have endeavored to conceal them, and affected a confidence I have not always felt, on account of my companions. It was because I suspected him that I would follow no longer; making him, as you see, follow me.

(Starr punches the air with triumph.)

Starr: Boo-yah! That's a wrap then?

(The gruff man and elderly woman look bemused.)

Elderly Woman: We need to have a bit more emotion in that one. You looked too happy!

(Starr nods.)

Starr: Got it.

(Starr coughs.)

Starr: (leaning forward and putting on a deep barotone voice) I confess I have **sob sob** not been without my own suspicions, though I **sniff** have endeavored to conceal them, and affected a confidence I have not...oh for the love of God!

(Starr drops to his knees and starts crying uncontrollably. He does so for so long that the gruff man starts to venture over. Before he gets there, Starr kips up to his feet.)

Starr: Ta-da! How was that? A bit of improv, I know, but dang wasn't that great?

Gruff Man: Thomas, that was really bad. What was with all the crying?

Starr: Ma Kettle there said I was too happy!

Gruff Man: OK, one more try, this time less sad, OK?

(Starr winks.)

Starr: OK.

Starr: (leaning forward and putting on a deep barotone voice) I confess I have not... BWAHAHHWHAHAHWHAHHWHAWHAHWHHAHHAH!!!!

(The gruff man and elderly woman's jaws drop in unison.)

Gruff Man: Get the hell out of here! I hope to God that you have a day job because you are appalling.

(Starr smirks.)

Starr: You're damn right Tommy Starr has a day job. And that job is kicking a$$ and looking good!

Elderly Woman: So why are you here?

Starr: Frankly, since I am obviously above all this drivel, I am trying to get a better understanding of the WWA's biggest moron, Shaman. I have Santana's album in my car stereo as well.

Gruff Man: Why do you want to understand him?

Starr: Good question. I mean I don't think he even understands himself half the time. We have had our issues since around the middle of last year and frankly, this Matinee Idol is getting sick and tired of it.

Elderly Woman: Why is that?

Starr: Well last week, I tried to set up a match with him and the Muppet Man...

(The duo look even more confused)

Starr: ...and then they both beat me up...twice! If it wasn't for Shaman butting his big nose in my business then that would not have happened.

Gruff Man: But didn't you just say you set up the...

Starr: Oh shut up Sipowitz! I'm talking. All I can say is the sooner I rid the WWA of this steaming pile of dodo crap, the better!

(Starr rips the feather head dress off and stamps on it, but not before putting his baseball cap back on his head. He keeps stamping as the increasingly worried casting duo call security.)

STOMP!

Shaman..

STOMP!

Your days

STOMP!

are numbered!

STOMP!

(Fade to black.)