“I’m here to audition for the part of the apple tree.”
The casting director looked the maple up and down his trunk. “You have any apple in you?”
The maple shook his branches. “No, but I can play an apple tree.”
The director shrugged. “Go ahead and give me your line.”
The stand-in scarecrow fed him his cue. “Come along, Dorothy. You don't want any of those apples.”
The maple tree stood stoically. “Are you hinting my apples aren't what they ought to be?”
The scarecrow started to say his next line, but the casting director interrupted him. “Cut. Cut.” He waved his hand toward the tree. "You gotta say it with a sneer. Can you do a sneer? These people gotta be afraid of you.”
The maple nodded and listened to the scarecrow repeat his line. He pulled what ire he could from his roots and spoke again.
“Are you hinting my apples aren’t what they ought to be?”
“Oh no, it’s just…”
The director cut the scarecrow off again and waved the script at the tree. “No, no. You need to lean over them and scare them a little. Shake your branches. They just insulted you. They stole your apples. Show us your anger.”
The maple nodded and he and the scarecrow ran through their lines again. This time the scarecrow finished, “Oh no, it’s just that she doesn't like little green worms!”
That was his cue. The maple snatched an apple from the ground and threw it at the scarecrow, but it fell limply at the base of his trunk.
“Cut! Cut!” the director yelled and jumped to his feet. “What kind of throw was that? That’s not how you throw an apple. Haven’t you ever thrown an apple before?”
The maple shook his branches. He felt sap break out in his treetop. The director sighed and sat back down.
“We’ll let you know. Next!”