Alfred flipped through a newspaper on his kitchen table, eagerly leaning over the counter. For a month straight he had been searching through magazines, websites, and newspapers, for a suitable part to play and fulfill his childhood dream. Since he was a small child, he wanted to do was star on Broadway. He was so, so close—but only one part would do for Alfred.
A hero.
He had ignored multiple other parts that he could've fit into perfectly, but no! Alfred F. Jones would not stand for being a villain, or minor character, he had to be on center stage. His face had to be remembered, his name plastered on billboards in bright, shiny light bulbs.
"Ah—that would be nice!" Alfred said with a longing sigh, pushing away from the table and standing up. He picked up the newspaper (which hadn't given him any parts that he wanted) and straightened it against the marble counter before making a toss for the trash bin on the opposite side of the table.
Missed. The paper scattered all over the floor, and Alfred sighed. He made his way around the table, bent down, and picked up all the scattered, gray papers. "If you want to do it the boring way," he grumbled, reaching down to shove the newspaper into the depths of the bin. It was empty; he'd emptied it out the day before—
—wait hold up—
The trash bin was not empty, actually, and at the bottom was piece of white paper with small black text. 'Must've thrown that one away before I got to read it.'
Alfred lazily bent over even further and scraped at the bottom of the bin, pushing the paper up against the side and into his hands. The American hopped onto a stool behind him and squinted at the tiny text, but only making out a few letters and words. "Where'd my glasses run off to…?" he mumbled anxiously, looking around the kitchen. He swore he'd been wearing them just seconds ago. Alfred scratched his head, only to find his glasses perched up on his forehead. 'And I'm really stupid, okay.'
After pushing the glasses onto the bridge of his nose again, he put his attention back to the white sheet of paper, thoroughly interested in what it had to say, for once.
Arthur Kirkland sat at an old, wooden desk, looking through the applicants for the auditions of the Broadway show he was to be directing. There were many actors and actresses' names on his list, and he could tell at that moment that audition day was going to be bundles of fun. "Bundles." Arthur repeated under his breath, looking at the list for the hundredth time. He sighed, putting the list back into his manila folder. 'I suppose that's enough work for one night. I have a week to prepare for the audition day, no need to prepare everything in one night.' the Brit decided, standing up and walking out of the door of his office.
The week following flew by faster than necessary for Arthur.
The same could not be said about Alfred. The energetic American had already prepared his audition lines and a ballad to sing and everything. He worked from dawn to midnight, and in the end finished his preparations by Saturday afternoon. That meant he had until Wednesday to wait.
Alfred F. Jones did not exactly have the trait of patience. He wanted to go, go, go, and keep on moving forward. 'These are going to be the longest four days of my entire life.' He thought as he plopped down onto a couch in his apartment. He could play video games, watch horror movies, eat, sleep…
He banged his head into a pillow.
AN: Hey! I present to you my first fanfiction! This whole beginning part is a bit messy, but I have a plot worked out for the later parts. I can't guarantee when the rest will be out, but soon, hopefully!