“All the world’s a stage,” so the man said.

Blithely he asked, “Have you mastered it yet?”

“No,” I answered, “It’s experimental theater.”

“Ah!” said the man, “It’s all in the interpretation …”

“Arrogance will enter stage right to show you how it’s done.”

“What of stage left?” I queried.

“We boo the has-beens off stage left,” he replied.

“But every seat is taken, even the balcony is filled.” I retorted.

“Yes,” the man said as he smiled. “They laugh at the comedy of errors.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “It’s only an audition.”

“No,“ said the man, “It’s a screen test that no one has passed yet.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because the new genre plagiarizes the acts of old,” said the man.

“No one has made it through the seventh act,” he continued, “because no one submits a new screenplay.”

“We just need to wait for some new talent,” he sighs.

The stage lights go dark.

The man hangs a sign on the theater door …

<CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT>