“So, Mister, uh. . .”

“Johnson.”

“Right, Johnson. It says here that you’re looking for representation,” Jack Stein, my prospective agent, continued. “Have you had any roles that I’d be familiar with?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Stein, I’m not an actor. I’m a prophet,” I replied.

“A prophet? You gotta be shittin’ me!”

“No, sir. I speak on behalf of God, and it’s very important I get his message out.”

“I gotta tell Laura to stop setting up appointments with fuckin’ loonies. Get out, Johnson.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Your assistant is coming to tell you about an important phone call.” The door opened and Laura poked her head in. Before she could speak, I said, “It’s Jason Prescott. He doesn’t like the latest script rewrite on the play. They made him six years older. And bald.”

Laura stared at me. “Yeah, how’d you know? They just told him a minute ago!”

Stein leaned back in his chair. “Tell Jason I’ll call him back. You just bought yourself ten minutes, Mr. Johnson. What’s this message from God?”