Before I got my big break, if you noticed me at all, you knew me as the guy "third from the center." At one point, I used to joke with friends that "third from the center" was going to be it for me. I used to be in that telephone ad that was everywhere a couple years ago: on television, on the sides of busses, on billboards. I was the one standing right behind the star, Gary - the one with the Buddy Holly glasses that everyone knew as the "Telephone Guy". A million people saw me every day, but still, you don't get notoriety for being "third from the center" - the guy just behind the Telephone Guy. Gary got the real bucks. He got the SAG card and the notoriety. I think he even got some made-for-TV movie out of the deal. More than anything, the guy got health benefits. Man, at the time, I would've given anything for health benefits.
I know standing behind someone with a stupid smile on your face doesn't really seem like acting, but that's part of what actors do when they're not famous - when they're not Brad-famous or even Gary-famous. If you look at ads or tv shows, you see all these people on the screen who aren't saying anything. Well, most of them are trained actors. We've all done the Shakespeare and the Brecht and Mammet, but no one knows us. That's probably why extras don't get benefits. If they die, who cares? There's always another extra.
Things have changed for me now and for a lot of my actor friends, too. I have to give props to Manny, my old roommate. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be third from center and the extras of the world would still be uninsured.
Manny wasn't really an actor - not like me and the other telephone ad people. Manny was more of a specialist, I guess. He only did sci-fi shows. Actually, if you IMDB him, you'd see that the only stuff he ever did was Star Trek episodes. Non-credited stuff, mainly. Alien #1 or Vulcan #4, roles like that. In the 90s, when the franchise was riding high with three different shows, Manny was doing alright. He was always working. He's a bright guy and he bought a little condo in Glendale from the money he made.
Then when Star Trek started to fade, he worked the Star Trek conventions to keep money coming in. Usually this meant that he spent the day milling around dressed like an alien of some sort or another. It didn't pay as well as doing the tv shows, but Manny liked the work, and he said it left him more free to choose the aliens he liked best. Manny was all about the Klingons. They were his favorite.
On his off hours, he spent time learning their language. He's bright, like I said, and he could probably have learned something hard like Russian or Chinese, but instead, he taught himself to speak Klingon. At first he said it was because of the new Star Trek movie that they was coming out at the time. He wanted to dazzle the producers when he called them about getting a part. But the truth was that of all the aliens he ever got to play, the Klingons were closest to his heart. He had a whole section of his closet devoted to Klingon masks, big brown wigs, fake eyebrows.
For those of you not in the know, Klingons started out as enemies of us humans until, in later generations, they became friendly to us. They are excellent fighters, and they are usually massive. You might have heard about them because it seems that for a while, only African-American actors were getting cast to play them. That was one of the few times that Star Trek made the headlines. While white guys got to be human, African-Americans were getting cast as these giant, ugly (and kind of smelly) aliens. I think that was how Manny got his foot in the door, originally. Manny's Mexican. There aren't too many Mexican Klingons because there aren't that many massive Mexicans. I think the show's producers were hoping that his presence would prove that casting policies on the Starship Enterprise were fair and as modern as the technology on the show.
Still, when it came time to cast for the movie, Manny ended up not getting a part. The producers didn't think he looked right. Even with the make-up and his mastery of the Klingon language, Manny is a little guy. And by the time the movie was set to go into production, the producers weren't so worried about racial profiling.
Needless to say, Manny wasn't pleased. He was pretty depressed, actually. He didn't come out of his room for a couple days other than to get a sandwich or use the bathroom. It freaked me out a little bit because he wasn't changing out of his Klingon outfit. He drove home after the audition without changing out of it and for the next few days, every time I saw him, he was still in it. The Klingons, so I've learned, have a certain earthy smell to them, and I guess Manny's decision not to shower was a result of his need to be true to character. And though I'm all for the Method, I thought maybe he was taking things a little too far.
I tried more than once to talk with him, but he wasn't interested. I think he told me to leave him alone in Klingon more than once, but at the time, my Klingon wasn't very good. It didn't matter, though. Disappointment is a universal emotion, and I understood. I've been up for parts before and not gotten them. The week prior, I auditioned for a speaking role in a pilot. It was some spy thing where the lead suffers from a personality disorder. Complete schlock, but speaking roles pay AND they make you eligible for benefits. I was up for the part of a hot dog vendor/snitch. I thought I really nailed it. I've been eating hot dogs my whole life, and I spent a few days before the audition hanging out with some vendors out in front of Dodger's Stadium. And yet I didn't get the role. Disappointing. But I didn't give up and I didn't think Manny should either.
I decided to give him the weekend and stay at my girlfriend's. It was obvious he needed the space and he was also getting a little ripe. I figured that by the time I got back, he'd be his old self, and if not that, then at least, he'd smell better. But when I got home a couple days later, I not only found him still in costume, I found that the house had been overrun by a bunch of Manny's Klingon friends. They were sitting round the living room drinking something bright and fizzy that I'd never seen before. "It's a party," I said to a short Klingon that I thought was Manny. He was standing in the corner of the room with two other guys who were gynormous. "What are you drinking?" I pointed at the champagne flutes they were holding in their furry claws, but no one answered. I think one of them might have growled. Then they started talking to each other and though they were speaking Klingon, I knew they were talking about me.
I went to my room thinking I'd wait out Manny's friends there. Maybe he needed the bonding-time, I figured. But there on my bed was another guy sleeping dressed in Klingon regalia, snoring like some kind of machine gun. "What the fuck, Manny?" I came back into the living room and walked toward the short Klingon in the kitchen. "Why is someone sleeping on my bed?" I asked him.
After making something that sounded like a hiss, he walked away. "Manny, what the fuck?" I went after him and grabbed his shoulder and before I knew it, the other three in the room were pointing these toy laser guns in my face. If you've never heard Klingon before, it sounds kind of like a really aggressive form of German. When I was starting out in the business, I did some lighting work for a production company that shot German porn. It was all gutteral sounds and growls and hisses on set, and that was just from the crew. Now with these Klingon guys, it was the same thing. But I just let it go. I figured they were really into their roles, and I know how important craft is. I told them it was fine if the guy needed to take a nap, but I also made it clear to Manny that he was going to have to wash my sheets after everyone went home.
Seeing that I was laughing and totally not a threat, laser guns were lowered and fizzy drinks were taken up again. I walked into the kitchen where another couple Klingons were talking. They were seated at the little table at the far end of kitchen where I usually ate my breakfast and read Variety. It was clear that these guys were having an argument over something. I had no idea, but anger, like disappointment, is pretty universal. Knowing Manny and his buddies, I thought they were probably arguing over some Star Trek character. I had come to know that Trekkies were like die-hard baseball fans. They memorized stats and argued among themselves over the smallest detail.
Right about the time I had my sandwich made and was deciding where I'd go and eat it, the argument became physical. They had pushed the table aside and were grabbing each other like Greco-Roman wrestlers. I'm not a huge guy, but I work out, so I dropped my sandwich and tried to break them up. With a free arm, one of them pushed me back. I heard some of the other Klingons laughing behind me, which made me mad. These guys, big or not, were sci-fi dorks, and I figured that part of what made them look so big was the make up and fake giant heads. While I was making these calculations in my head, readying myself to lay down the law, the fight had escalated. One of the Klingons pushed the other back and from his side pulled out another toy laser gun. "Again, with the guns. Jesus." I said. But the two were so focused - like the gun was real. A couple seconds later the one without the gun was on the floor writhing in pain. Manny, call 9-1-1," I yelled, thinking the guy was having a seizure. I'd been on the set of a number of medical shows over the last year, and I remember that in one of the episodes, an epileptic patient was having a seizure and the doctor stuck something in the patient's mouth so he wouldn't bite his tongue off. I took a wooden spoon out of the drawer and tried to get the Klingon on the ground to open his mouth, but it was no use. He just swung around until at one point he went limp.
By this time, I had a group of Klingons standing around me in the kitchen. None of them broke character. I was starting to get mad. "Can I get some help here? Manny, did you call 9-1-1?" I asked the short Klingon. He made some sound, a combination clucking and hissing sound. Then a couple of the larger Klingons bent down and pushed me away. They each grabbed an end of the epileptic Klingon and carried him out to Manny's room. "I don't think you guys should move him. Maybe it's not safe yet," I said. But they ignored me. They snarled and grunted as they walked away. "You guys want some help?" Again, they didn't say anything.
I followed them into Manny's room, or what I thought was Manny's room - what used to be Manny's room. It looked like something from the set of a Star Trek movie - all computers and blinking lights and flat screen monitors. "Manny, what the fuck? When did you get all this stuff?" Right then, I felt a hand on the back of my neck. Even without looking I knew the person holding me was big, maybe even bigger than the guys in the kitchen. The hand tightened around my neck and the next thing I knew I was off my feet, carried like a kitten away from Manny's room and down the hall to my room and the snoring Klingon. When the hand let me go I turned to see that the guy was taller than any man I'd ever seen before. I tried to follow him out the door, but his hand, which was the size of my chest, stopped me. "Wait here," the giant man said in a voice that allowed no room for discussion.
"Can you believe that they didn't think I was right for the part?" I recognized Manny's voice coming from behind me. He was the snoring Klingon. I also recognized the earthiness that had filled the room. "Manny, you need to shower, brother. You smell."
"They're real," Manny said. "And they think I speak Klingom like a native."
"What the fuck, Manny? Is this what it's like at the conventions?"
"They're real. They heard me practicing my Klingom. They've been watching me practice for some time now. I didn't know. Their technology is way more advanced than ours. They can hear us all the way from their spaceship."
I didn't respond. Back in the 70s, they used to make a lot of nut-house movies: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, They Kill Horses Don't They, Friday the 13th. It's just not a popular genre anymore. So I had no idea what to do about a roommate who was cracking up. I never had any experience with that kind of story line. I didn't even know if Manny's parents were alive, or if he had a girlfriend.
"They're telling me that if I keep up with my study of Klingom, I might be able to go back to the Mother Planet."
"Buddy," I told him, "you gotta get a grip. You and the freaks out there live in this world. This is the only world we got."
"You know there are some things that the Master got wrong," Manny said.
"What the fuck? Who's the Master?"
"He got a lot of things right, but there's a lot he missed." Manny stood up and was pacing in front of me. His voice muffled by the rubber mask he was wearing. "The Klingom like humans, for one thing. They're aggressive towards each other, but they don't believe in being that way with outsiders. The Emperor passed a law that prohibited them from eating human flesh. That's a big sacrifice. They like the way we smell, especially when we're dead."
"Do they like the way you smell right now?" I asked, but Manny was onto the next point.
"Roddenberry, great man that he was, also thought that they were called the Klingons, but they're not. They are Klingom. It's a small thing, but the details are important, don't you think?"
"Have you eaten anything lately? Maybe you should get some food - not human flesh, but something else. What do you say?"
Before he could answer, the huge Klingon or Klingom that carried me came back into the room. He was so tall he had to duck a bit. "We're almost ready to go."
"Man, you know, you are the tallest guy I've ever seen. You play hoops? Cause you would be a monster." The giant Klingom came toward me and stuck his face in mine and started sniffing at me like I was a piece of meat. Manny said something to him and he turned quickly like he was going to bonk Manny or something. But then it sounded like he was laughing. He turned back toward me and patted me on the head before leaving the room.
"We better get going," Manny said.
"I'm not going anywhere. I've got an audition tomorrow and I need to practice my lines."
"Don't worry about that. The Klingom Grand Council is meeting tonight and they're looking for a spokesman. I told them you'd be great."
I asked if it was a paying gig. "I need insurance, Manny. My teeth are shot and I have a rash that hasn't gone away."
"It's going to be the most important role you've ever had," he said, patting me on the head. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to brag, but I've played Hamlet in Summerstock and I was in Glenn Gary Glenn Ross in a small production in the Valley. So I doubted that some sci-fi gig was going to be a step up. I didn't argue, though. A job's a job. I've learned that much. And you never know, Harrison Ford got his big break in Sci-Fi.
For the next hour, Manny kept coming back in to tell me to be patient - that preparations were under way. I was tired, so I didn't really care and used the time to take a nap. I don't know how long I was sleeping when Manny came back to get me. I asked him how I should dress, but he said it didn't matter. I was a little confused. "Do I already have the gig?" I asked. "Because if it's not a sure thing, I'm going to need to get back early tonight so I can be ready for tomorrow." Manny patted me on the head and walked out. "What the fuck, Manny? Would you stop with that shit?"
There was loud talking in the other room. The giant Klingon or Klingom, whatever, stuck his head in and said it was time. I followed Manny to his room. All the computers and screens were gone. But something was pulsating in the closet. The giant opened the closet door and I saw what looked like a big gun mounted on a tripod and it was aimed right at me. "You have to go first," Manny said.
"Go where? Manny, you really gotta change. You smell unholy." He grabbed my arm with his fake Klingom claw and said something to the giant. The gun-thing in the closet started making a racket, and before I knew it, everything went white, and then I was in a dark room with these huge pillowy sofas all over. Manny was standing next to me and on the other side stood the giant. I had no idea how we'd gotten there. "Did I faint?" I asked. Another Klingom I'd never seen before came forward. He had white hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing a long flowing gown. The guy looked like some kind of alien drag queen. I assumed it was the producer of the show or that maybe this was some kind of improv exercise to see how I'd respond. Manny and the giant were bowing so I decided to join in. I thought it was kind of weird, honestly, but producers are not always the most normal people, so I went with it.
A discussion began between the three in the room. "The Emperor would like to know if you are willing to help."
"Is he the producer?" I asked Manny in a whisper. "What's he done before?"
The giant interrupted me and started yelling at Manny. I knew he wasn't a fan and was probably saying I wasn't right for the part. I assumed Manny was arguing my case, though. I was pretty impressed. Usually Manny was quiet, almost too nice, but he was holding his own against the giant. After a couple back and forths, Manny turned to me: "The Emperor needs you to know that you would be the face of the Klingom Empire. How do you feel about that?"
"I get it," I said. "It's like a sci-fi show but in a documentary style." I looked over at the producer. "Pretty inventive."
"I told him that you would be good for this because of your skills."
"When did you get involved with this project? Is this like a cable thing? I don't want to do this if it's straight to the web. Those projects never pay very well."
Manny bowed his head and spoke to the producer-Klingom. "Payment is not an issue. You will be seen world-wide."
"So this is a movie project? Who else is involved? Any big stars attached?"
"Only you," Manny said.
"What the fu...?" How does that work? Manny, who are these guys?"
I guess I was talking too much because the giant turned toward me and started sniffing at me again.
"Hey big man, I don't want to offend, but you could kind of use a bath as well."
The Producer-Klingom said something in a loud voice. He must've been reprimanding the giant because the sniffing stopped immediately.
"Manny, what's with this guy?" I whispered as soon as the giant pulled his head away from me.
"Arrgh doesn't like humans very much."
"Arrgh? What the fuck?" I said and then, I don't know why, but I started laughing. What kind of a name was Arrgh? Realizing that no one else in the room got what I was laughing at, I pulled myself together and apologized to the Producer-Klingom.
"The Klingom think they've been misunderstood by the other planets in the Federation and they want to come up with ways to educate people about who they really are - they want to start with humans."
"Right. So they want to make a show. Another spin-off - like Next Generation?" Manny looked over at the Producer-Klingom and said something. The Producer-Klingom nodded his giant head. "Yes. Something like that."
"Does he have any pull over at the networks?"
Manny laughed. It was a strange laugh. It was full-bodied, like a fat-man's laugh, though I don't think Manny weighed more than a buck fifty. "The show will appear everywhere. World-wide. And if it works out, there might be room to expand beyond to other planets in the Federation."
I didn't say anything. I thought Manny was just making another Trekkie joke. "So what would my role be?"
"I told you. The Emperor would like you to be his representative."
"Like a host?"
"Something like that."
"Well, look. This is a paying gig, right? I don't want to offend your friends here, but I'm going to have to get my agent involved. You know, I need some reassurances. Royalties, freedom to do other projects as they arise, health benefits."
"You don't have to worry about any of that," Manny said. "You will be well taken care of."
With that, I was ready to sign on. I moved toward the Producer-Klingom to shake his claw, but the giant Klingom's hand held me back. Manny told me that Klingoms don't shake. A bow would seal the deal. Fine by me.
Since then, things have moved pretty fast. Like Manny said, the show appears in every country and is translated into every language spoken on Earth. The work's pretty easy and I get paid serious money. The writing's a little stilted, I'll admit. But really, it's not any worse than a lot of the other sci-fi shows I've seen. And anyway, I've got some other projects in the works. It's kind of ironic, but last week, I replaced Gary in the telephone campaign. The Producer-Klingom wanted to replace everyone else in the ad with Klingoms, but I convinced him that the extras behind me were worth keeping - I did make a promise, after all, to keep extras working, and the Producer-Klingom's been really helpful on that front. I don't want to sound cut-throat, but he's helped me eliminate a lot of the famous actors who I used to be jealous of. It's a win-win, I guess. Without the Brads and Garry's of the world, there's more room for the Klingom show and more room for the extras of the world to get attention.
As a result, the Hollywood party scene is pretty different now. The only people I ever see are the extras who I knew coming up. Basically, the way it works now is that if I don't know an actor, he's not going to be on TV or in a movie. I've heard crazy rumors about some big stars being abducted by Klingoms and taken to the Motherland where their bodies are being fed to poor Klingom families. But I've been around long enough to know not to pay attention to the tabloids. It's obvious that the Brads and the Gary's of the world just can't handle the fact that their careers are not what they used to be.
And, really, if there is any truth to the rumors, then, hey, it's not like they're not being put to good use. Feeding the hungry is a very noble deed. Even if the hungry aren't human.
