"Ah… a disaster, a disaster…"
Chris slightly raised his head, trying to find Anson's figure, but failed. He twisted and turned as if an Alien was about to burst out of his chest. With great difficulty, he flipped over, lay on the ground, and then wriggled forward like a caterpillar, grunting and groaning, reaching the living room, flipping and rolling.
With a gurgle, Chris plunged into the turmeric-colored sofa, burying his face as if trying to suffocate himself.
To be honest, Anson was a bit curious—
The original owner had no special feelings, which was normal, but he was a soul who had returned from 2023. Comparing the heroic posture of Captain America in his mind with the caterpillar that hadn't yet broken out of its cocoon in front of him, the visual and spiritual impact came rushing in, even more shocking than the audition just now.
After all, whether it was David Crane or Darren Star, they were all behind-the-scenes figures, their names were household names, but their faces were completely unfamiliar.
2000 was more interesting than he had imagined—
The future Captain America was still an unknown nobody, and had not even begun his acting career.
Because of the encouragement from his high school drama teacher, plus the full support from his parents, Chris chose to drop out of high school and go to New York to pursue his dream.
While completing acting courses at a drama academy, he also took a friend's advice to intern at a casting company and began attending auditions.
However, almost two years had passed, and Chris still hadn't gotten any acting opportunities, so he packed his bags and came to Los Angeles to try his luck.
In two more months, Chris would turn nineteen, and his acting career was still a vague fantasy. It was inevitable for a teenager to feel a bit dejected, exuding an air of having nothing left to live for, yet still retaining the chuunibyou aura of a teenager, which was quite amusing.
Anson's lips curled up slightly, "If you want to suffocate, you might need to try a little harder."
Chris brought his hands together at his sides and used his core strength to lift his head, but immediately slammed back into the sofa cushions.
Ah!
With the spring hitting his face, Chris let out a muffled groan, "What about your audition?"
Anson thought seriously about how he should answer—
The outcome was already determined before the audition began, a hundred percent success?
How the audition went was temporarily unknown, but this body had changed its core?
Chris didn't hear a reply, but assumed Anson's audition also didn't go well. He reluctantly raised his head and sighed, "Was it Laura or Natalie who interviewed you?"
Auditions for TV shows and movies are divided into two types: one is handled by the production company, and the other, more commonly, by a professional casting company.
Therefore, even though the auditioned works were different, actors often saw the same interviewers. Over time, they became familiar faces.
Of course, this was just the basic situation; there were other models for specific cases, and it couldn't be generalized.
Anson was full of questions, "I don't know Laura or Natalie."
Chris's voice came muffled from the sofa, "They are the hardest to deal with, absolutely terrible."
Anson blinked, "David interviewed me."
David Crane.
Chris didn't think much of it and let out a long breath, "Jesus Christ, that's even better. I sincerely hope you get some good news. Honestly, I really don't want to see Laura or Natalie's faces again. Has all the auditioning for all series now been outsourced to their company?"
The gates of Hollywood were slowly opening before his eyes, a mysterious world he had only heard of but never seen.
Anson was a little curious, "What TV station's drama did you audition for?"
"CBS." Chris tilted his head, like a dejected teddy bear, "But that mainly depends on the production company; TV stations generally don't interfere with casting."
Phew.
Letting out a long breath, Chris was like melting cream ice cream, "I'm not going to the play this afternoon. You tell James."
"Play?" Anson still hadn't fully gotten into character; it wasn't easy to digest eighteen years of memories in a short time.
Chris didn't notice Anson's abnormality, completely immersed in his own frustration, "James's play, three o'clock this afternoon. Didn't we say we'd go support him?"
James Franco, this was roommate number two.
Unlike Chris, James was an uninhibited and arrogant young man. From high school to university, he had won countless opportunities and made many different attempts. Finally, at the end of his freshman year, he went against his parents' wishes, dropped out of UCLA, and embarked on a professional acting career.
James, who was about to turn twenty-two, after several years of struggling in Hollywood, became one of the co-stars of the NBC series "freaks and geeks" last year, working with Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, and others, opening up his career.
Years later, "freaks and geeks" unexpectedly became popular and was hailed by countless people as a comedy that perfectly recreated 1980s memories; but at the time of its broadcast, it was heavily criticized for its chaotic broadcast schedule, loose narrative main line, and other shortcomings, and was cut by NBC after twelve episodes.
For James, this was a blow, but he didn't care.
On one hand, he took on the villain role in the romantic comedy film "Whatever It Takes"; on the other hand, he and Seth Rogen dabbled in an experimental play.
This afternoon, the play was about to premiere.
As roommates, they were naturally among the invited.
Anson glanced at Chris, "Are you sure?"
Chris: Snoring.
Anson couldn't help but chuckle, "Chris, I'm very sorry that you didn't have a smooth day today…"
Chris, "Your voice doesn't sound sorry at all."
—If you knew you could become Captain America in the future, you wouldn't be sorry either.
But obviously, Anson wasn't going to spoil it, "You should think about it, James and Seth are dabbling in theater, their agents certainly won't sit idly by."
"Maybe they invited the media; maybe they invited producers, casting directors, other actors; maybe there's an opportunity there."
Chris rolled his eyes, showing a plastic smile in response.
Anson was serious—
Moreover, even if nothing happened, James and Seth, these two oddballs who would later spark countless creative ideas, were also curious. What kind of work would they cook up? Like "Pineapple Express"? Or "This Is The End"?
"Chris, it will be very interesting."
"No, it won't. We'll just see a bunch of sycophants gathered there flattering each other."
"That's what's interesting."
Anson's answer left Chris stunned, and then he saw Anson say earnestly, "Honestly, what other chance do we get to see a bunch of glamorous scoundrels gathered together, hypocritically performing Hollywood clichés, clearly drowsy the whole time but having to stand up and applaud, pretending to enjoy themselves? We can watch the show from the side."
Chris couldn't help but laugh out loud, "Haha, Anson, you've become bad."
Anson shrugged lightly, "It's about time."
Chris continued to roll and struggle repeatedly on the sofa—
Thump.
He lost his balance and flipped over directly.
But Chris did a carp jump to stand up, and then bounced three feet high, with a calm expression, pretending nothing happened.
"What do you think we should wear?"
"Bikini."
"...Get lost."