Note from Author: I'm updating! What a miracle. Once again, thanks to all those who reviewed! And now to more warped insanity-
AARON LOHR: THE TAPDANCING NEPHEW

::Location: 1991 in an airy room on the bottom level of a building in the Universal Studios lot. Behind a fold out table sits Kenny Ortega and random others. Miscellaneous sheets of paper and 8 x 10 headshots adorn the tabletop::

::Ortega sits on the edge of his seat, brow furrowed, regarding the headshot of Aaron Lohr that he holds in his hands::

Ortega: All right, send the next kid in. Whatthehellshisname? Andew Low-er?

::Man sitting two chairs down from Ortega clears his throat and tries to attain Ortega's attention. Ortega does not realize this as he tries to pronounce name with help from Woman.::

Ortega: Andrew Low-er? How the hell do you pronounce this?

Woman (just as baffled): Aaron Lewer?

Man: Uh, Mister-Mister Ortega?

Ortega: Oh, Aaron-

Woman: Lehr?

Ortega: And how in the name of Christ do you say this kid's name?

Man (yelling): MR. ORTEGA!

::All eyes in the room fall to the Man. Ortega cocks an insolent brow.::

Ortega (sneering): Sir, I say, but you do not have to raise your voice to a level such as that! I can hear you perfectly-

Man (apologetically, interrupting Ortega): Sir, I'm very sorry. It's just that my name is Saul Lohr. You're holding a picture of my nephew Aaron Lohr. I don't think that he's auditioning for the movie, because you see, that's not a headshot of him. That's a picture whenever our family went up Lake Erie and him holding a fish he caught.

::Ortega and Woman regard picture. It indeed shows Aaron holding a three- foot long fish in front of him.::

Ortega and Woman: Oh-

Saul: Yes.

Ortega: Then what the hell is his picture doing in with the headshots?

Saul (shrugging): I don't know, Mr. Ortega. It's just that his mother is working and could not pick him up from school today and my sister is a very worrisome person, so I told her I would look after Aaron. I knew we would be working long into the night with these auditions, but I told her he could perhaps it in a chair or something while we work.

Ortega: Oh, well how lovely. Have the little brat come to MY auditions and take up MY time-

Saul (pleadingly): But, Mr. Ortega, Aaron is a good kid-

Ortega: Yeah, that's what they all say.

Saul: No, really his is-

::Door creaks open and Aaron appears with backpack slung over his shoulder.::

Aaron (cheerfully): Hiya, Uncle Saul. They told me you would be up here.

Saul: Why, hello, Aaron, how are you-

::Saul notices glare that Ortega is giving him.::

Saul: Ah, Aaron, sorry I couldn't talk to you longer, but-

::Aaron nods and quietly sits in chair in corner of room, ignoring the glare that Ortega is now giving him. After Aaron is settled while playing a Gameboy Ortega goes back to ruffling the headshots, flustered.::

Ortega (exaggeratedly): Now, before I was so RUDELY interrupted. Okay, who's the next kid on the list?

Woman: Er, Gary Coleman-

Ortega (jaw-dropped): Gary Coleman? Gary Coleman? You mean that elf who was on that show?

Woman: Kenny, he wasn't an-

Ortega: He's not a child! Why in the hell would he audition for my awesome, glorious vision?

Woman: Perhaps he needs work-

Ortega: No. I will not audition him.

Woman: But, Kenny, these are open auditions and you know that they have laws against discrimination-

::Ortega slams his hand on the table, causing headshots to scatter.::

Ortega: And I really don't give a damn. I don't want a silly little elf to be in MY vision! My vision-

Random others(tiredly): Sent straight from God himself.

Ortega: Why how'd you know?

Others: Lucky guess.

Ortega: Well, all right, since we're not auditioning the elf who's-

Aaron: Uh, excuse me?

::Ortega looks up, infuriated::

Ortega: What?

Aaron (quietly): I have to use the bathroom.

Ortega (taken aback): What?

Aaron (sheepishly): Um, sorry to interrupt, but I haven't gone all day.

::Ortega is poised to retaliate::

Saul (interjecting): Down the hallway to the left.

Aaron: Thanks, Uncle Saul.

::Aaron rises and crosses the room, Ortega's burning stare never leaving him. He places his hand on the door knob to open it, when door opens, sending him backwards. Corey Feldman stumbles in, his cloths awry, his hair mussed and a Coca-Cola dangling from his left hand.::

Corey (slurred): Oh, hey there! Hey, there's no toilets in here! This isn't the men's room!

Woman: That's because this is an audition room.

::Corey looks around the room. Realization strikes him.::

Corey (laughing drunkenly): Oh, shit! You're right! Man, I'm really drunk right now.

:: Ortega is in complete and utter awe of Corey. He rises from his chair, his eyes waxed and his jaw dropped.::

Ortega (awe-struck): Corey Feldman?

::Corey looks around room::

Corey: Hey, who said that?

::Aaron pushes the door off him, steps next to Corey::

Aaron (angrily): He did.

Corey: Oh. ::pause:: Hey, you have some really long hair, man.

::Ortega blushes and comes round table. Yet, a stroke of brilliant realization hits him and he falls over. Random others rise from their seats and gasp as they gather around him::

Woman (panicked): Kenny! Kenny! Are you all right?

::Ortega helps himself up::

Ortega (elatedly): Christ woman, how can you ask me if I'm all right? Of course I'm all right! Don't you see it? Can't you see it?

::Woman looks up. Only sees a very pissed off Aaron and very plastered Corey.::

Woman: Erm-

::Ortega shakes all random others off him as he slowly strides over to Corey with his arms in front of him::

Ortega: MUSH! Our Mush is standing before our silly mortal eyes. Don't you see? Mr. Feldman, you are an utter genius in my eyes. I mean, your performances-sheer, raw brilliance. I mean, License to Drive and the Lost Boys. You and Corey Haim were just so immortal and godlike in your exquisite performances-

Corey: Man, are you sure you don't have a twin? I can see two of you. Whoa, I'm really drunk!

Ortega (brusquely): That's all right, Corey.

::Ortega leads Corey to the center of the room while Aaron strides out the door, stepping over an unconscious Ann-Margret and slamming it behind him.::

Ortega: Now, Mr. Haim-

Corey (protesting in a slurred voice): But I'm Corey Feld-

Ortega: No time for chitter-chatter. Here. I want you to read from this script.

::Ortega tossed Cory the script, and he awkwardly catches it yet lets the Coca-Cola bottle fall to the flood, the contents inside spilling out and staining the carpet.::

Woman (angrily, rising from seat): Ah, look Kenny! Disney just recarpeted this room and the little bastard spills his Coke on it!

Corey: It wasn't Coke. It was vodka.

::Woman shakes head and sits down when the door suddenly bangs open. Aaron enters, looking bewildered and disheveled. His hair is askew, his shirt ripped, and his pants unbuttoned. His breathing heavy and labored, he suddenly slams door behind him, pressing all his weight against it::

Aaron (voice shaking): What-

::A glare crossed Ortega's face as he hold up a hand, silencing Aaron and stalks across the room.::

Ortega: Don't say another word!

::He thunders to door and pulls it open. Outside stands Ele Keats, prepared to throw herself against the door once more. In the background stands Christian Bale, hog-tied with a rope and with a sock in his mouth..::

Ortega (with a flourish): Ele!

::Ele catches herself and begins to sob.::

Ortega (motioning towards Christian): What may I ask is this?

Ele (bawling): Oh, Mr. Ortega! I couldn't help myself! You don't know how hard it is to be a nymphomaniac!

::Corey Feldman immediately freezes and turns towards the door. A wicked smile crosses his face.

Corey: A nymphomaniac? He-y!

::He throws script into air and falls to ground in a scatter of papers. He struts towards door, adjusting his sunglasses.::

Corey (suavely): I got a License to Drive a stick. I'll give you a license to drive my stick.

::An expression of absolute shock crosses his face as he sees the lusty, animal expression Ele wears. She grabs his shirt by the collar and pulls him out the door. He releases an audible yell, yet Ortega only slams the door behind him.

::Ortega strides to center of room, a look of despair on his face, and the back of his hand to his brow in an exaggerated manner of despair.::

Ortega (loudly): Oh, woe is me! Woe is me! Where on Earth will I find another Mush! (looking to ceiling): Is this what You wanted? Is this Your way of mocking me?

::Silence. Cue in crickets::

Aaron (slowly): Ah, Mr. Ortega?

Ortega (loudly): This is YOUR vision! YOUR vision! Do You understand the magnitude of what has just occurred! We lost Corey Haim! Corey Haim! And You more than anybody else should know how popular that little bastard is with the girls!

::Silence::

Ortega: Okay, so maybe not. But we would at least of had a recognizable name! So tell me who the hell we have: Spot Conlon, Vinny Barbarino, Christmas Bale, and, oh, let's not forget the fucking nymphomaniac! These brats don't have any star power! I wouldn't be surprised if within five months from now they were selling their internal organs on the black market or selling crack cocaine to minors just to make a buck!

Aaron: Mr. Ortega?

::Ortega turns around, his breathing labored and face red::

Ortega (bellowing): What!

Aaron (timidly): I-I could be your Mush.

::Ortega breaks into wild laughter::

Ortega: You, my Mush! I think not! Let me ask you this: Can you sing?

Aaron: Yes.

Ortega: Can you dance?

Aaron: Yes.

Ortega: Can you act?

Aaron: Yes.

Ortega (sniveling): Well, then that makes you so special, doesn't it?

Aaron: No, Mr. Ortega-you directed me in three music videos already. Don't you remem-

::A wicked smile crosses over Ortega's mouth::

Ortega (interrupting): So, your character likes the girls. Can you sing the line 'Met this goil last night?'

Aaron (unsure): Uh, sure. Met this goil last-

::Ortega places a hand on Aaron's shoulder and pushes him across the room to the door.::

Ortega: Good. So Mush likes the women. Just tame that thing out there and you got the job.::

::He quickly opens door and pushes Aaron through doorway. Aaron's face twists into horror as he begins to scream. Ortega slams the door and begins to innocently whistle as he brushes his hands together. Aaron's muffled cries are still heard from outside.::

::Ortega listlessly ambles back to the table and takes a seat. Still whistling, he begins to shuffle through headshots. Everyone in the entire room stares at him incredulously, mouths gaping::

::Ortega glances up::

Ortega (shrugging shoulders): What?

::Murmurs fill the room as random others get back to work.::

Ortega: Who's the next kid?

Woman: Trey Parker.

Ortega (under breath): Trey Parker-

::Ortega picks up Trey Parker's headshot. A devious smile crosses his face.::

Ortega: Hi, there, please state your name!