The Minus Factor

It was time, for my audition - a nice renditition, I came armed, nothing too predictable, with ammunition; this offered my chance for fame, only I was to blame if I messed up, success meant I would never be the same again. It was good, I knew by the smile on their faces, now I waited, standing, while my heart really races; I knew that one juror may give me a hard time, playing to the gallery, a mountain I might climb. The unnecessary hype, weirdly prolonged, was irritating, I heard the voice: 'You know what . . . . ' , procrastinating, why can"t he just say if he liked the bloody thing or not? as though he was on another programme and forgot. It was tiring, waiting for all their second-guesses, I need not have worried because I got four yesses.