We Interrupt this Transition

CHAPTER SIX: Video Auditions

---

CONGRATULATIONS

You’ve been selected as a possible contestant on Garden Alpha’s new Reality Television program.

Now, what we’d like you to do is submit a short video no longer than three minutes flat on why you believe that you’re ready to put your mind, body, and masculinity to the ultimate test.

Your individual login code is:
https://wu.garden.alpha/AGDRLYHLL

Or scan the QR Code Below:

If you are selected for the next stage, there will be a live interview via Garden Telecom. Those who pass the live interview will be invited to our studios in Burbank, California, and become part of the first episode of the show. 

Good luck!

---

“Kayla?” called Ethan from the living room table.

“What is it, Ethan?” said Kayla from the bathroom, who was doing her makeup, getting ready to go out with Hannah for a girls’ night. 

“Why did I get this email telling me that I’ve been selected as a possible contestant on a reality show?”

Kayla poked her head out. 

“Oh my god, really!?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. I thought reality TV was your thing. How’d they get us mixed up? You know how I feel about it.”

“Oh, oh, right. I applied to one of them on your behalf.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Hanna and I spotted this posting for a macho-man reality show. We thought it would be funny if we submitted you.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I guess they took it seriously.”

“You submitted me?”

“Yeah.”

“As a joke?”

“Yeah. It was funny.” 

Ethan frowned and sat back on the chair, frowning, crossing his arms. 

“Why would submitting me to a macho man contest be considered funny?”

Kayla snickered, and the snicker turned into a full throated laugh. She just walked away, continuing to get herself ready, ignoring Ethan, continuing to laugh. 

Ethan frowned. Stupid Kayla. Stupid… mean, bitchy Kayla. It was hardly fair. And he hated how he was always treated like a joke. Like an idiot. He hated that because he wasn’t some macho ideal, that made him less than human. 

It just wasn’t fair. Kayla got to be as mean and bitchy as she wanted and still had tons of close friends. Ethan always found it hard to make friends - he really only had one. 

He made a decision. Fuck Kayla. He was going to do this thing. He was going to get on this reality show just to piss her off. Just to show her that the one thing she wanted, he was better at anyway. 

Spite, specifically, sibling rivalry spite, is a powerful motivator. 

He made his mind up, took out his cell phone and dialed Leonard. 

“Hey, this is Lenny, what’s up?” 

“Leonard? This is Ethan.”

“I know it’s you, Ethan. You’re the only one who calls me Leonard.” 

“Do you prefer Lenny?”

“Nah, it’s fine either way, it’s just weird that you prefer Leonard.”

“It’s just that I saw your name in print before I heard you say Lenny, and that kind of stuck, I’ve never been that good with remembering people’s names and…” 

“Ethan… Ethan. Don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“Do you still have that video camera and microphone?”

“What, the one I use from my sets?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow it. I need to make a three minute video for this thing.”

“What is it?”

“A macho-man reality TV show.”

“Hell, yes. Actually, I have to do one as well. Probably the same macho-man show. Honestly, I think it’ll be good for you, man. Give you some confidence. When were you hoping to do this?”

“Maybe after your gig at Mic Drop?” 

“Hell yeah. Tell you what, you hold the camera for me, I’ll hold the camera for you. Or - better idea. Let’s do both of ours together!” 

***

Erin, Sheri, Jimmy, Sam, Daria, and Pranav sat in their rented office space in a co-working area close to the Garden offices in Culver City. Daria looked over some numbers in her notebook, and sighed. 

“Okay,” said Daria. “We had 3,628 applications.”

“That many?” said Sheri.

“Well, yes. Of those, 1,722 passed pre-qualification. Basically we ruled out anyone who applied to the show who identified as a woman, anyone that was obviously a spam bot, anyone who isn’t within three hundred miles of Los Angeles, people who we know have criminal histories, people who we know from previous applications have mental problems…”

“Well shucks, that rules me out,” said Jimmy. 

“Cute, Jimmy.” Daria continued. “So, we sent out a follow-up email requesting three minute videos from those 1,722 people. 421 sent them in before the deadline.” 

“Four hundred and twenty one three-minute videos. How many hours is that to pour through?”

Jimmy fumbled for his calculator on his phone, only to find Sam once again beat him to it. “Twenty one hours, three minutes,” said Sam.

“Yikes,” said Pranav. “Whose job is it to narrow it down?” 

Jimmy sighed. “Ours.” 

“What exactly are we looking for? Congeniality? Friendliness? Are we casting ‘roles’?” asked Erin.

“Roles?” asked Sheri.

“Yeah, you know, like ‘villain’, ‘woobie’, ‘sucker’, ‘everyman’, ‘diva’, ‘cocky’, ‘sinister deaf kid’. You know. Reality TV tropes,” said Erin. 

“‘Sinister deaf kid’ isn’t really a trope. It was really just that one sinister deaf kid,” said Jimmy.

“Ah yes,” said Daria. “Amazing Race Fourteen. Luke Adams. Interestingly enough, he’s gay, too, but they completely ignored him being gay when they did the edit because they already had two openly gay men. There was also an out lesbian on another team that they completely glossed over.” 

“Seriously?” asked Erin. 

“Yeah, despite Amazing Race touting itself as a relationship show, they really shoehorn people into stereotypes,” said Daria. “You can’t be gay and deaf, or lesbian and black. I mean, they’ll let you on the show, but in the edit, you have to be one or the other, lest they confuse audiences.”

“But wouldn’t a multifaceted person be more interesting than a stereotype?” said Erin.

“You’d think that,” said Sam. “You’d really think that. But no, time developing a character is time you’re not spending showing ads for Travelocity.” 

Sam shook her head. “I don’t think we can afford to be that picky, anyway, even if we were looking for a ‘sinister gay deaf kid.’ Especially if we’re going for this battle-royale, shotgun approach. And remember, this is just a screening. We’ll get more into people’s characters when we start doing the zoom interviews.” 

“Garden Telecom,” corrected Daria. “Zoom is a brand name, not a generic name. Considering we compete with them and all.”

“Right,” said Sam. “On the Garden Telecom call, we’ll be looking for all that, but the truth is, we’re casting a wide net. We pass them to the next round unless there’s a big red flag.”

“What would constitute a ‘big red flag’?” asked Sheri. 

“If they’ve got a swastika hanging in the background, for example,” said Jimmy. “That is literally a big red flag.”

“Also, if they show their penis,” said Daria. 

“Ooh, we should start a betting pool to see how many penises we get,” said Jimmy. “Closest to the actual number without going over wins the pool?” 

“All this can be yours, if the Penis is Right!” said Erin in the best announcer impression, giggling like a schoolgirl, then reached into her purse and laid a $20 bill on the table. The others shrugged and followed suit, writing down their guesses on post it notes. 

“Well. We'll take breaks and stretch out every so often. Let’s get started,” said Sam. 

The very first video they saw was of a man’s penis.

“Bah. Mediocre penis,” said Pranav. “Next!”

***

Entry # 13. Jacob Spader. (Current counts: Penis 1, Swastika 0.)

“Yo, Gooch! On me. We rollin?” said Jacob, wearing a tanktop and athletic shorts, standing in a public park kiddie playground, next to a home-made sign that said: “Shooting a video, will be out of your hair in 20 minutes, thanks!” 

Some kids with their parents were standing to the side, waiting for the two young men to finish up with what they were doing. Some of them were close enough to the camera that it picked up their voices.

“What are they doing, Daddy?” asked one little boy. 

“It looks like they’re going to film a little video for the Internet. They’ll be done in a few minutes. Want to watch?” said the father.

“We’re rolling, we’re almost done setting up the camera.” 

On the video, there was the clear sound of scotch tape being wrapped around the camera phone and secured to something. The video was still slightly tilted.

“Ready!,” Gooch said. 

“Hey, I’m Jacob Spader, I’m a personal trainer from Bakersfield, California. and with me is my hetero life-partner Jude Guthrie. But everyone calls him Gooch. Gooch here…” and with this he motioned to the overweight, bearded man wearing a t-shirt with a picture of tater-tots, with the caption ‘taters over haters’, “...designed an obstacle course, so that I can show you exactly what I’m made of.”

“It’s gonna be sick, dude.” said Gooch. 

“Let’s go!” said Jacob, and immediately took off his tank-top, threw it on the ground, and ran through the monkey bars, making sure to show off his upper body strength and taut abs. 

Across the playground, Gooch was climbing a ladder they had brought from home near the see-saws, waiting for his cue, while providing a heavy metal soundtrack for Jacob by repeatedly singing: “Dun dun dun-na, dun dunna-dun!” 

Jacob then vaulted across the spring riders, intending to hop across them deftfully, like a ninja, but instead, he failed to account for how springy the spring-riders would actually be, and face-planted into the third one, like a horribly uncoordinated ninja.

“Oh! Holy… fuuuuuuu…” and then Jacob remembered he was in front of a small crowd of kids, and their parents might not like cursing. 

“..uuutterbutter.” 

Jacob then got up, dizzy and reeling, jumped onto the last spring rider, fumbled the landing from that one, then headed up a rope ladder, and through a tunnel. 

This tunnel was designed to accommodate small children and not 220 pound personal trainers, but Gooch had come up with the brilliant idea of pre-lubricating the tunnel with non-stick cooking spray. Gooch had not, however, informed Jacob of his brilliant plan, and by the time Jacob got out, he was covered in a thin layer of oil. 

“Gooch, what the hell man!”

“You gotta complete the course in three minutes, I didn’t want you to get stuck in there.”

“What is this sh— ishkabob?”

“Non-Stick Crisco.”

That was a problem as the next step in the obstacle course was climbing up a kiddie slide the wrong way, and the oil coated over Jacob’s hands and body, as well as his continued dizziness, made this take much longer than Jacob anticipated, attempting to ascend three times only to slide back down again with a queasy ‘sckreeeeech’ each time. Eventually he braced his arms and legs against the side of the slide and, huffing and puffing, groaning and wheezing, made it up. He climbed down the other side, and headed towards the last obstacle - the see-saw - and triumphantly stood on the lower end. 

Gooch launched himself from the ladder to the other end of the see-saw, and in a demonstration of simple Newtonian physics, launched Jacob up into the air a good three feet. Jacob landed on his back, on the ground, impressively close to where Gooch had set up the inflatable kiddie pool filled with water that was meant to cushion Jacob’s fall. 

“Dude, man, that was awesome

,” said Gooch. “Do you think we need another take?” 

“Oooooowww…” groaned Jacob.

Gooch turned to the camera and gave two thumbs up.

Meanwhile, the young boy once again spoke to his father. 

“Daddy?” the boy asked, concerned.

“Yes, champ?”

“Is there something wrong with those men?”

The father, apparently, did not want to miss a “teaching moment” with his son.

“Well, son, do you know how we tell you to eat your vegetables, even though you don’t like them?”

“Uh huh?”

“If you don’t eat your vegetables, your brain doesn’t develop right, and you can end up like those two.” 

The child audibly gasped in horrific realization. 

“I don’t want to be like the dumb people, Daddy.”

“Then you know what you have to do, sport,” said the father. 

***

Pranav watched with his eyes wide and his mouth agape at the two yahoos.

“That…” Pranav said, “that was painful to watch. And I’m a surgeon, I cut people open for a living.” 

“Oh my god,” said Erin. 

“Jesus,” said Sheri. 

“They’re brilliant!” said Sam, wide eyed. 

Everyone turned to Sam. 

“Well, no, they’re as bright as a blackout and thicker than two short planks, but having them on the show would be brilliant,” explained Sam. 

“I agree. These are people with stunning ambition, lack of foresight, and poor impulse control. Perfect for reality television,” said Daria. 

“Hold on a moment,” said Sheri. “You said that you’d be looking for red flags. How is this… gross stupidity not a red flag?”

“If stupidity was a disqualification for reality TV,” said Erin, “the genre would have died out in the first fifteen minutes.”

“Actually, I think there’s a method to their madness,” said Jimmy. “I mean, they are stupid. Incredibly stupid. Woefully stupid. So stupid that God made a mistake by giving them opposable thumbs…”

“Jimmy,” scolded Sam. “Get to the point.”

“Right. Thing is - they weren’t stupid about their stupidity.” 

“Okay?” asked Pranav.

“They’re idiots. Reckless idiots with no regard for their own personal safety,” said Jimmy. “But they made sure there were no kids in the park before they started their obstacle course of pain. You saw that sign. They hurt themselves. But not anyone else.”

Sheri and Pranav had to think about that. 

“And if they had put people at risk, you’d say that’s a red flag?” asked Pranav. 

“Not… necessarily,” said Jimmy. “It’s reality TV. A lot of people we’re going to end up with are going to be morons. But… I wouldn’t be surprised if this was actually one of the milder cases of stupidity we see today.”

***

Entry # 151.  Chase Castle. (Current counts: Penis 4, Swastika 1.)

“I’m Chase Castle, and you better believe I'm a 100% bonafide alpha-male, baby!” said Chase to his webcam. “I just finished up my commitments to the Army, and I’m looking for a new thrill.”

Chase pointed directly at the camera. “Right now I could go to college on the GI bill, but college is for pussies. Instead, I’m hoping I can get on your show and earn enough money to move to Nevada where it’s legal to breed tigers and start my own exotic animal petting zoo.”

Chase then turned and displayed his pets for the camera. 

“I love my little guys.,” he said, showing off his collection. “I got a tarantula, a rattlesnake, and of course there’s Fido. Want to see Fido?”

The obviously crazy man picked up a three foot long alligator from the floor, with a collar on it. 

“This is Fido! He’s just a baby right now, but he’s gonna grow to be about nine feet long. I’m training him as a guard alligator to keep my place safe from intruders while I’m away.”

Chase put Fido down on the floor. 

“Honestly, my first choice was a monkey with a gun, but monkeys are hard to clean up after.”  

“I also work on classic cars - I’m going to try to fix up an old buggy and race it in the Mint 400 next year, that’s the off-road race in Primm. I also do camping, hunting, spear fishing. I’d love to do blast fishing, but those assholes at the EPA say that I can’t use dynamite to fish, because its–” and at this point, Chase put up finger quotes, “–damaging to the environment, and extremely reckless.” 

Chase shook his head in disgust. “Fuck, man, if you don’t know how to handle explosives, then you deserve to be blown up, know what I mean? Besides, that’s how they killed the shark in ‘Jaws’. That’s why you need to be good with explosives, you never know when there’s going to be a shark attack. Second Amendment Roi-ights!”

***

“Well, he’s certainly macho. And fits the bill. I’m not thrilled about a person who has that many dangerous animals though,” said Sam. 

“What were you just saying about ‘being stupid about stupidity’,” Jimmy?

“I mean, he has to be trained to handle them, right?” asked Erin. “I think he’s putting on an act, right? Has to be an act.” 

They all eventually agreed that it must have been an act because nobody could possibly be that stupid. They put his name down on the “next steps” list. 

But Daria made sure to put an asterisk next to it.

***

Entry # 170. Victor Rubin. (Current counts: Penis 5, Swastika 2.)

“Hello, I’m Victor Rubin. I’m a professional actor with over thirty stage credits to my name, and multiple television credits. I’ve been in the acting game for nearly eight years now, and I haven’t landed that big break yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Victor edited the video so that he next appeared wearing a bullfighter cape, carrying a skull, and wearing a Phantom of The Opera mask.

“I have range! Drama! Comedy, you name it!” 

“Plus, people love me. You need personality for a reality show, right? I’m the guy everyone’s going to root for. I’m relatable! A struggling actor, hoping to make the big time! And I’ve come close before!”

“I’ve done commercials, student films, and I almost got a callback to be on ‘Days of Our Lives’ and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was put on indefinite hiatus about a week after I auditioned, who knows where I’d be now?”

“I was also in the running to work alongside Josh Peck for a television show on Disney Plus, but at the last minute, they recast my role as a dog instead and turned it into a reboot of ‘Turner and Hooch’.”

“The point is, I’m a true artist who has been waiting for his big moment. And I’ve got like, this quirky energy that’s going to make me a total fan favorite. Trust me, you need me on this show.” 

***

“Ugh,” said Erin. 

“Agreed,” said Daria. “But, no swastika, no penis, he goes on the list.”

“And,” said Sam, “he’s either actually going to be a breakout talent, or he’s going to be amusing to watch get brought down a peg.”

“I hope so. I’m a better actor than this clown,” said Pranav. 

“You act?” asked Jimmy. 

“Every time I tell a patient that ‘it will only hurt a little bit’ and I know it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot. It takes a lot of skill to really sell it.”

***

Entry # 194. Jett Timbrell. (Current counts: Penis 6, Swastika 2.)

The camera focused on what looked to be an Incredible Hulk statue, repainted a simple beige from the traditional green, holding up massive, five hundred pound weights in each hand. (So basically, Lou Ferregno.)

Jett then jumped into the frame, wearing cutoff jeans, fishnet tights, and a tied pink t-shirt that showed off his midriff.  

“Heyyyyyy, I’m Jett Timbrell, from Venice in Los Angeles, and I’m here to enter your macho man contest,” he said. “By day I’m your typical street busker–” 

The video cut to Jett riding an elevated “giraffe” unicycle, juggling three large and dangerous looking knives, as a small crowd surrounded him, to the tune of Oingo Boingo’s “Only A Lad.” 

The crowd whooped and cheered, as Jett caught the last knife in his mouth.

At that point, the video cut back to Jett talking in front of the Lou Ferrigno statue. “--but by night I perform as the diva ‘Diana Fyre’”

The video cut to Jett dancing up a storm for tips in his sequined dress, surrounded by hooting women and gay men stuffing tips into his spaghetti straps. 

The video then cut back to Jett at the statue.

“Let’s face it, I’m more macho than most other guys even when I’m wearing a dress and mascara!” said Jett. “Plus, I think we all know what the deal is here. I bet you’re doing something genderfucky, right? Well, honey, I genderfuck right back! I sing, I dance, and I can run circles mentally and physically around the other contestants.”

“Face it, it just isn’t going to be a fair fight.” 

***

“Oh, I really want to bring him in,” said Sam. 

“We’d save a couple hundred just on wardrobe,” said Jimmy.

“A bit cocky, no?” said Pranav. 

“Cocky is good. Cocky is a character,” said Daria. 

“Just so long as he knows that the hosting job is already taken”, said Erin.

“And he’s clever enough to know we’re doing something with gender. He’s one to keep an eye on,” said Sheri. “I wonder how he figured that out.”

***

Entry # 195. Bradley Ewart. (Current counts: Penis 6, Swastika 2.)

Bradley’s video started with him behind the controls of a backhoe, in full construction gear. 

The scene switched over to Bradley sitting down at a computer desk, a pride flag in the background. 

“Hello, I’m Bradley Ewart. I’m a construction worker from Vancouver, Canada, but I currently live in Los Angeles.”

“And, uh, yeah, I’m gay. I’m… mostly out of the closet. Still kinda ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ with my co-workers. But they’re good people. Mostly,” said Bradley. 

“I have a boyfriend, Jett, who works as a busker and performer. We share an apartment near Venice Beach.”

Bradley took out a picture of Jett and showed it to the camera.  

“So, I mean, I don’t know how to show you that I’m macho. I mean, I’m a big guy, sure, but… that doesn’t always mean brave. I guess… well, I’m a dual citizen, so I had the opportunity to move to Los Angeles, mostly because I hate the cold and, uh, I heard it was a good city to explore my, uh, gayness.” 

Bradley thought for a moment about what he wanted to say next. 

“Look, I’m, kinda shy. But… I took the risk to move to L.A. by myself. And then, I took the risk to put myself out there. I made friends in the gyms and pickup basketball games. And if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Bradley looked away from the camera for a moment.

“I’m kind of scared of a lot of stuff… except taking risks. I have to take risks - prudent, well-researched risks, but risks nonetheless.” 

Bradley turned back to the camera, looking straight at it. 

“Because that’s what you’ve got to do, right? Playing it safe may… keep you safe, but it also prevents you from… really finding the things that make life worthwhile.”

“Maybe I’m too nice for reality TV. But, I figured I gave it my best shot, and that’s all I can ask for.” 

***

“I want to hug him,” said Sheri. “He seems so sweet.”

“Is his boyfriend the busker from before?” said Jimmy.

“Has to be,” said Erin. “Hmm. That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” asked Daria. 

“The construction worker guy mentioned his boyfriend in his video. Which is, you know, sweet. But why didn't the busker-boy mention the construction worker guy?” said Erin.

“Is it weird enough to give either one a red flag?” said Sam. “If not, let’s move on. We have a lot of these to go.”

*** 

Entry # 208. Oscar Kane. (Current counts: Penis 8, Swastika 3.)

Oscar Kane, dressed in a flannel shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, started off his video application with a bang. Literally. 

BANG! 

The shotgun Oscar had fired into the air startled a flock of starlings out of the trees.

“I’m Oscar Kane. And I’m 100% American Made Male,” said Oscar, leaning against his truck. “And I’m applying to be on your show for a number of reasons. First, I think I could win. Second, and more importantly, I want to show the world what real Americans look like. We work hard, we play hard.” 

“I’m the owner of three apartment complexes, two mobile home parks, and three Chick-Fil-A franchises. I’m running properties and making deals, creating jobs while other people sit around complaining. I’ve got the guts to say what everyone’s thinking, but no one’s brave enough to say. I don’t sugarcoat anything, I tell it like it is, and that’s what will get people’s attention.”

Oscar smirked and leaned back. “You want someone who’s not afraid to stir the pot? That’s me. This country’s full of whiners, and people need to see what it takes to win. I can bring ratings.”

“Trust me,” the dishonest shit said, smugly, “I’m exactly the kind of guy your viewers will tune in for. An All-American self-made man.” 

***

“Villain?” asked Daria.

“It’s like he’s going specifically and deliberately for the slot,” said Sam.

“More power to him,” said Daria, and then she added Oscar’s name to the ‘next steps’ list. 

***

Entry # 299. Rafael Espinar. (Current counts: Penis 12, Swastika 6.)

“I guess you’d have to say I’m a self-made man. H–hello Garden Alpha people. I’m… Rafael Espinar.” 

Rafael swallowed, nervously. He was just sitting there, recording into his webcam, no special lighting, no gimmicks, just him, talking to the camera. 

“And, uh, I applied to your show because… well because you were looking for men who were willing to change and challenge themself… and… well, god, I know what that’s like.” 

“I realized I was a man back when I was in high school, but my parents wouldn’t let me take hormones or blockers until I turned eighteen. It was too late to prevent… well, a lot, but, uh, when I turned eighteen I was able to get on my parents insurance, and since I live in California, I’m able to get testosterone and, yeah, I mean, there’s more I want to do, but…”

Rafael took a deep breath, closed his eyes, balled up his fists. 

“Be a man,” whispered Rafael to himself. “You are a man, so prove it!”

When Rafael was ready he looked back at the camera, fire and determination charging in his voice for the first time. 

“Look, I’m just as much a man as anyone out there,” said Rafael, who said it in such a way as to convey that he absolutely believed it. 

“And if it takes me going on a reality TV show for macho men to prove to the world that trans men are just as manly as anyone else, I’m going to do it, dammit!”

“I’m going to enter your competition, and I’m going to win, because I’m not just playing for the money. Who else are you going to get to apply who has so much to prove? And nothing. To. Lose.”

Rafael let out a guttural grunt and flexed his arms. 

“I’m Rafael Espinar, and I’m going to take all the other boys down.”

***

Silence after that one.

“Well, fuck,” said Sam. “I honestly didn’t think that would happen.”

“I really like him,” said Jimmy. “He’d kinda be the person that you’d want to root for, you know, on a normal reality TV show.”

Pranav sighed. “Right, so obviously we can’t have him be a contestant.”

Sheri tilted her head. “And why not?”

Daria looked between Pranav and Sheri, wondering what was going on.

“The whole point of the show is to take cisgender men and have them go through the steps to transition into trans women until they can’t take the dysphoria and changes anymore. Not to take transgender men and have them detransition into cis women,” said Pranav. “It’s bad enough that your program will likely inflict gender dysphoria on people who don’t have it, are you seriously going to tell someone who already has gender dysphoria to not treat it?”

“That’s not how I see it,” said Sheri. 

“How do you see it?” asked Sam, genuinely. 

“We are running a contest where the only qualification is that they’re a man between the ages of eighteen and thirty. He is a man, he is between the ages of eighteen and thirty. If you treat him any differently than any other contestant who has applied, you’re no better than those idiots who want to kick trans kids out of sports,” said Sheri. 

Jimmy sighed. “Sheri’s got a hell of a point. What do you think, Sam? Can we… somehow come up with… goalposts that include a trans man? I mean, obviously, there’s no point in doing a… vrggerhrmprm…”

Dr. Pranav looked over to Jimmy.

“Jimmy, are you okay?” 

“He’s fine,” said Sam. “He just can’t say the word ‘vaginoplasty’.” 

Erin’s head whipped over.

“Oh my god! Is that true?” said Erin. 

“It’s not the only word I can’t say!” said Jimmy. “I have trouble saying other words.”

“Like what?”

“Ice tea and lemonade. I can’t ever get the name of the drink right unless I’m saying it really slowly and carefully. It always comes out as ‘Arnord Perrmr’. ‘Alnold Parrer.’ It’s the damnedest thing. And it’s really embarrassing as saying words clearly is like, ninety percent of what a game show host is.”

“Mister Howard,” said Pranav. 

“Yes, Doctor Vadekar?”

“In my professional medical opinion,” said Pranav. “You are a very strange person.”

Sam thought about Rafael while Jimmy smiled.

“He’ll probably drop out right away, once he knows what the challenge is, right? I suppose we could come up with… a contingency plan? Fair but… alternate goalposts?” said Sam. 

Daria thought for a moment to herself, tapping her pen against her notebook. 

“I’m with Sheri,” said Daria, finally. “This whole thing is an opportunity to show people that cis people need to be cis, and trans people need to transition. I can’t think of a better example of showing that then to show that a trans man can’t just be a woman. I know it messes with the format, but we can adjust it. If we’re to hold every man to the same criteria here - no swastika, no penis. He moves on to the next round.” 

***

Entry # 402. Leonard Harrison and Ethan MacDonald (Current counts: Penis 16, Swastika 9.)

Ethan and Leonard were standing together on a small lounge-stage with a gold background, in the otherwise empty secondary room (the “Gold Room”) at Mic Drop Comedy Club. 

“I’m Lenny Harrison,” said Leonard. “I’m a computer science major at UCSD”

“And I’m Ethan MacDonald,” said Ethan. “Also a computer science major at UCSD.”

“In my free time, I perform stand-up comedy and make viral comedy videos for YouTube,” said Leonard. 

“And in my free time,” said Ethan. “I look through the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition, to try to figure out what’s wrong with my brain.” 

An awkward pause, as Leonard looked at Ethan, and took a half step away from him for comedic effect. 

“Right. We’re applying to your show,” said Leonard, resuming the conversation to the camera, “and sure, we might not be buff super-jocks, but we’re interesting.”

“Leonard is interesting. I’m interesting-by-proxy,” said Ethan. 

“Ethan, do you actually want to get picked for this show?” complained Leonard. 

“Yes, I do.” Ethan focused back towards the camera. “Okay, cards on the table, Garden Alpha, I didn’t actually submit my name for the show. My sister, Kayla did. As a joke. As a goof. She always makes fun of how I’m not a manly guy. Look, some people are good at football. Others are good at algorithms. That doesn’t make me less of a man, right? In all honesty, I’m really kinda just doing this to spite her. She loves Reality TV, wants to get on one of those shows. Honestly, getting on a reality show when she can’t? One I didn’t even apply to be on? That is sweet, sweet vengeance.” 

“I swear,” said Leonard. “Ethan’s the nicest, sweetest guy, normally. He’s just, you know…”

“Seething with a wrath as hot as molten lava for my sister and her dumb friends,” said Ethan, dispassionately. “But yeah, I, uh, I’m normally not like that.”

“As for me, well…” said Leonard. “I’ll be honest, I kinda think the whole idea is funny. I’m hoping you’re looking for someone who can keep things light hearted while everyone else around you is walking around like a caveman, going ‘urgh, urgh, me strong, me powerful, me have big muscles, me throw ball far, me have well reasoned critical reasoning skills but only for pros and cons of astroturf.’” 

“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” said Ethan. “They replaced the carpet-and-pad infill with crumb-rubber and coconut fibers. The main issue these days is heat retention. Most people still prefer natural grass, though.”

“Ethan, I never knew you watched sports,” said Leonard.

“I don’t,” said Ethan. 

Leonard laughed, and Ethan tried to figure out why Leonard laughed.

“God, Ethan, this is why I love hanging out with you.” 

***

“It’s true,” said Pranav. “There are fewer injuries on the newer astroturf than the stuff they had a couple decades ago. Grass is still better.” 

“Hunh. That kid kind of reminds me of me when I was his age,” said Daria. 

“Daria, you are his age,” said Sam. 

“I’m thirty two,” said Daria.

“Really?” said Sam, impressed. 

“Well, I moisturize,” shrugged Daria. “Point is, I was a bit of a weird kid too. I mean, some of that weirdness was because I was the only openly trans kid in my high school, but I was also full of all these weird facts and infodumping. Got better at that when I got older, but it still shows up from time to time. Sheri, do you think he might be on the autistic spectrum?”

“Oh, it would be unprofessional to diagnose someone that I haven’t met in person,” said Sheri.

“Not a diagnosis, just, do you get the vibe?” asked Daria.

“Oh, yeah. Vibey as hell.”

“What about the other kid?” asked Jimmy. “Lenny.”

Daria shook her head. “I don’t get the vibe,” said Daria.

“No, I mean, as a contestant. What do we think of him?”

“Hmm,” said Sam. “I mean, sure, we give him a pass to the next round because no penis, no swastika, but he says he’s a stand-up comedian but didn’t do any standup in his video?” 

“I think he’s great,” said Erin. 

“You do?” asked Daria. 

“I don’t know how funny he is on stage, but that’s not really relevant. Look at what he’s doing. He’s supporting his friend. That he’s being a friend.” said Erin. “I think people would want to see that.”

***

By the end of the week, they had narrowed down the 421 video submissions down to about 250. 

“Alright,” said Sam. “We have our shortlist for the video interviews.”

“Sam,” said Erin, “Going through all of this took us a week. How are we going to schedule two hundred and fifty live interviews?”

Sam sighed. “Patiently. We’ll split them up. Maybe only one or two of us are at a live interview at the time. We’ll also make sure that we can confirm they can all make the live taping of the first show before the call. That’ll knock some of them out.” 

Jimmy nodded, and stretched out, yawning.

“Well that’s great. Say, it’s been a tough week, why don’t we all hit the bar together and hang out?” Jimmy suggested.

Sam frowned. “Normally I’d say that’s a great idea, but I think most of us have plans.”

Daria nodded. “Yeah, Sam, Sheri, Erin and I are meeting up with Chandra, and we’re headed to Potions & Poisons to do karaoke.”

“Oh. That’s an even better idea. Can I come with?” said Jimmy.

Sheri shook her head. “I think it’s kind of a ‘girls night out,’ Jimmy. Don’t worry. We’ll do something together, all of us, soon.” 

“Oh,” said Jimmy, who smiled a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. Go on. Have fun.”

“I’ll get an uber back to the house,” said Sam, “so you don’t need to wait up or anything. See you tomorrow?”

“Right, Sam,” said Jimmy. “See you tomorrow.” 

With the meeting adjourned, the girls parted ways, laughing and giggling to the parking lot, where Chandra was meeting them. 

Back in the room, Pranav was scooping up the $120 left in the middle of the table. 

“Oh,” said Jimmy. “Congratulations on winning the penis pool, Pranav.” 

“Thanks,” said Pranav. “You still wanna go get that drink?” 

“Sure,” said Jimmy, softly smiling. “Sure.”

A consolation prize was still a prize.