 Go ahead, take a seat. Can you give me your name and your age, please? My name is Mary Smith. I'm 24. Have you ever taken any acting lessons, Mary? Not really. I couldn't afford it. But I watch a lot of films and I learn so much by watching them. Have you shot anything recently? I've had a few bit parts, little things here and there. Nothing very serious for the moment. I'm always too tall, too short, wrong hair. There's always something wrong with me. Okay, have you learned your lines? Yes. Let's get started. Mark it, please. Casting heavy rain, actress Mary Smith, take one. And action! The first time I saw you, I knew you were the one. I thought these things only happened in the movies, you know? Pounding hard, the sweaty hands and the shaky legs. I was coming out of the theater and it started pouring heavy rain. There I was soaking wet, teeth chattering, freezing cold, and then you came up to me. You looked at me straight in the eyes and you said, need an umbrella? Miss? You sent me flowers for weeks and you said you'd love me forever? Three months later we were getting married. God, it sounds so stupid. It's such a corny romance. But real life never ends up being what you think it's going to be. You think it's going to be one big happy fairy tale. And then one day you wake up in an average little house living an average little life and your real dreams are about paying the bills and maybe someday getting a bigger TV. And you realize that maybe that wasn't the life you were dreaming of. You realize maybe things could have been different. And maybe I actually could have lived with all that but then one day it all just starts. It starts with something small. A little lipstick on a collar. A few nights when you come home a bit late. At first I tell myself that I'm crazy but you would never do such a thing. But just trees my mind. One night I follow you as you leave the office. I follow you to the CD hotel where you meet the girl and then my whole world falls apart. I come home and I cry for hours in my kitchen. I get the gun from the door in the bedroom and I tell myself that if this is all that life has to offer me then I can do without. But then I change my mind. After all I'm not the one who's cheating. So quietly I wait for you to come home sitting in my average little kitchen. Obviously when you get home you don't suspect a thing so I press the fucking gun against your forehead and I take a few seconds to watch the fear grow in your eyes. You tell yourself. She won't do it, she doesn't have the guts. She's just trying to teach me a lesson but you are so wrong, honey. I sentence you to death for turning my life into a soap opera cliché. For stepping on my dreams. For not giving a shit about me all those years and for lying to me and betraying me and humiliating me. I'm making an example out of you for all the assholes out there who can make you keep on fucking us over and over. Goodbye, my love. So, how was it? Very nice, very nice. You think I might stand a chance? Someone will get in touch with you and let you know. She wasn't too bad, huh? Doesn't matter, she's too tall for the part. Next!