Thank you for your interest in appearing in our community play. As quarantine restrictions begin to lift, we have decided to stage a show immortalizing this peculiar time to help bring our town together. As such, we’re encouraging actors to reconnect with society by auditioning for our production. Please read on to see how you can get involved.

Cast of Characters

The Obsessive Neighborhood Listserv Poster: You will serve as the play’s narrator and conscience. Please come to the audition armed with a judgmental attitude, a passing understanding of constitutional law gleaned from your favorite podcast, and a thirst for constant validation. You will feel comfortable commenting on lines at Stop & Shop, improper (and frankly reckless!) social-distancing protocols, neighborhood children on bicycles, and the reopening status of the local Chinese restaurant. Online MPH degree preferred but hardly required.

Mr. Zoom: This non-speaking but essential role requires an omnipresent performer who must be available to appear in all 856 acts. The ideal actor will be comfortable with cats, scarves, elastic pants, and the ability to function in extremely low lighting. You will usually be seen only from the nose up. Ability to freeze in place with a semi-permanent rictus grin without uttering a word is strongly desired. Eye twitch optional.

The Mask: This challenging part is fundamental to the production, particularly because it calls for the actor to appear and disappear based solely on instinct. Must retain a drooping, saggy posture at all times, coupled with the confidence to wear unflattering patterns.

Schoolteacher: We’re sorry, but this role no longer exists.

Camp Director: This requires a performer of exceptional range and hubris because you hold the fate of thousands of people in your hands. You will perform several monologues throughout the play, beginning with a tone of buoyant optimism. In short order, you will become a peddler of slideshows, videos, music clips, and photos of cuddly puppies — expertise with A/V equipment and cloying country songs is optimal. By the show’s end, you will be reduced to a pile of blubbering tears and last be seen burning large piles of money in a firepit off stage right. Please bring your own money to the audition.

The Internet: If you are an unreliable performer who is easily overwhelmed and only works when they feel like it, please do get in touch.

The Bread-Baker: Are you comfortable being hated? If so, this is the role for you! We’ll give special consideration to tone-deaf, smug actors who really have absolutely no idea how uninteresting they are to the general population. Please provide your own Dutch oven.

The TikTok Exhibitionist: If you have Narcissistic Personality Disorder and no coordination, self-awareness, or dignity, we want to hear from you!

The Online Yard Sale Hound: Perfect for the shamelessly entrepreneurial thespian, this colorful character will appear at intermission next to our local Girl Scout Troop. Please provide your own mismatched Lego pieces, defaced coloring books, tattered bags of toiletries, VHS tapes, quilts, macrame, discarded art projects, half-dead plants, frayed extension cords, shelf-stable powdered milk, and high school yearbooks.

The Jogger: The successful performer should be an expert at diaphragmatic breathing and possess a poor understanding of personal space. This part will not be blocked, stage-managed, or controlled in any way. Please feel free to roam the stage at will and do whatever you like, wherever you like, with as much selfishness as you can muster. If you crave freedom and have the ability to project — as well as a nagging, sputum-filled cough — this is a prime opportunity to bring your talents to life.

The Ladies at the Hair Salon: This challenging part calls for up to four people in hazmat suits wielding yardsticks. We will give special consideration to those who can showcase a particular need for grooming.

Trader Joe’s cashier: This versatile role requires a range of emotions, cascading from friendliness and warmth to outright hostility and militant rage. Please note that you will be treated disrespectfully by your castmates — like something less than human, really! — but it’s not personal. (We require a therapist’s note from each potential actor.)

Amazon Delivery Window: You possess an extremely narrow range and appear at odd intervals throughout the production. You will work closely with the props department, which will provide you with an Amazon Delivery Cart. The cart will appear full at the beginning of the production and be reduced to a dusty can of Campbell’s cream of broccoli soup by intermission.

Small children: We are looking for many Small Children to round out our cast. We will provide Adderall, sugar cubes, chocolate, video games, half-broken iPhones, water guns, and glass objects to help bring your Small Child to life. We are particularly seeking easily bruised children with no attention spans who have bladder control issues.

Bottles of Alcohol: Our chorus will consist mainly of actors dressed as bottles of alcohol. We are searching for a minimum of 1000 actors.

We will conduct auditions via Zoom during your family’s dinnertime, bedtime, and at unpredictable intervals throughout the day with at least five minute’s notice because we value your family’s social-emotional well-being. Please remember to mute yourself when you’re not speaking, and to ensure that all household members are properly clothed should they appear on screen.

The play will run as soon as restrictions fully lift in January 2024. We look forward to hearing from you!