From My Inbox: The Child

Hello. I am a delightful child actor. I have dark hair and cute brown eyes. Look at me holding the puppy. The puppy is nice. I love him. I specialize in portraying adorable, yet eerily sinister children, like Damien Omen and Charles Wallace from “A Wrinkle in Time”. I have a big head and silky hair and an uncanny look that is wise beyond my years. I am also really good as suddenly reverting back to vulnerable innocence and looking so scared and helpless: Mommy, why are you pointing that big shotgun at me? Why are you crying? Mommy, you’re scaring me! For an audition, I can present a quaint little imaginary tea party that is so cute you will want to just scoop me up and hug me; yet its uncanny and disturbing ending will freeze the blood in your veins. I’m talking “Turn of the Screw” here, people, which is just another example of my preternatural tendency to mention things I shouldn’t know.

My performances get their undeniable, over-the-top, adorable yet, unheimlich quality from the fact that I am genuinely evil. I was born an old, old soul, with cigarettes and whisky on my newborn breath. I crapped in my pants when I wanted to, because I knew what I wanted. I drew blood at the breast. I finger-banged my nanny. I stayed up late watching war movies and chewing on an old cigar. I keyed the cars in the studio lot with curses in Aramaic. You will cast me in this thing, you will give me points or I will see that it never gets made. Because you will be in jail, stupid. Look what I’m doing. Now who are they going to believe, some over-sexed genius director type with MJ hair, or a cute little boy who just wanted to be in the pictures. Do you want me to show them how you hurt me? Where you hurt me?

Ha ha. Gotcha. I made a funny. See? I’m that good. Call me.