Wrong Place to Die

Wrong Place to Die

I read a classified advertisement by a Murder Mystery acting group hosting an audition. So, on a whim, I went with no expectations of any kind. Who knew? Maybe I would be discovered, or something. The audition was held at the Arts Court in downtown Ottawa. It was a former courthouse converted into an arts facility.


We were directed to stand outside a large room and wait for further instructions. In the meantime, we were given a handout to read that outlined the type of audition it was to be. There were to be two parts. 


Part one was mostly free form. The director would give a scenario, and working in pairs, you had to adlib the performance without props. He would give each person a specific role/character to portray. The director and assistant director sat off-stage to watch the proceedings. After brief instructions, he said “Action!” 


My first role was that of a mad scientist with plans to take over the world by duplicating himself. It was a far-fetched storyline, so I acted over-the-top. I was loud, boisterous, bombastic, and large! It was a lot of fun just to let go. There were experienced actors in the audition, so I held no aspiration of success. Yet, deep down, there was a sliver of hope. To my surprise, I made the cut and was asked to stay to participate in part two of the audition.


The second part was a little more structured. Specific details of the character, and of the scenario, were given. We had to use props, as well. I was instructed to play the role of a successful politician seeking funds for an upcoming election campaign. I was also to have sympathy for those less fortunate than I. To accomplish this, I used a desk, chair and phone.

I sat at my desk and looked out the window. I saw a homeless person shivering in the cold. I picked up my phone to contact my executive assistant and instructed her to offer the homeless person a blanket, and then, get Mrs. Dick on the phone to discuss a donation to our campaign. Seconds passed; the phone “rang”. I picked it up. “Ima, I shouted, good to hear from you!” From their off-stage position the two directors burst out laughing. I wrapped up my call and waited for my dismissal from the stage. They asked that I wait out in the hall.


Every few minutes an actor would walk through the stage doors and head out of the building. Before long the two directors asked me on stage. I stood silently.


“You won the role!” one said proudly. I did what, I thought? I won? Never in my wildest dreams was this to happen. Now, I had to take acting seriously, and I did.


The acting group would play wherever an audience was. Restaurants, bars, office parties, anywhere. I had been asked to observe certain roles during these performances. We also rehearsed when time permitted. After a few weeks, my chance to act in front of a live audience came.


Now, this was not my first time acting for a live audience. I did it in high school. However, it had been a long while. I was a nervous wreck!


My role was that of a hotel owner. The hotel was hosting its first dinner guests (the audience) and I was to perform a welcome speech. My character was to also introduce the various actors spread out through the crowd of dinner guests. As each stood, I would introduce them and offer a little background, so the audience understood the type of person they were. Finally, I gave the audience a foreboding message of a possible murder. I heard some excited muttering from the audience. At that point, I wished the dinner guests a great experience and confidently walked off stage. 


Backstage, the assistant handed me a plate full of food, and suggested I eat before I go back on stage. We also had some make-up to contend with, as I was the murder victim!

Before long, my clean white dress shirt and tie was replaced be a blood-soaked white shirt with a large knife sticking out of the back. I quickly dressed and prepared for my death scene. I stood at the swing door to the kitchen and waited for my cue.


A police detective was addressing the audience regarding the potential of a murder when I screamed at the top of my lungs and staggered through the kitchen door. With the knife in my back I weaved from round table to round table leaning and moaning in pain. My director (the police detective) had originally instructed me to stagger through the dining area and fall dead near the far exit where a stretcher awaited.


As I waved to and froe around tables and guests it became clear that some audience members were really getting into this show. Some screamed! Others scattered as I approached their table. Before I knew it, I had fallen, face down, in between two tables. No sooner did I hit the floor when a woman from the audience got up, knelt next to me, and took my pulse! She was really into our story!


With that, the detective came along and pronounced me dead. The crowd groaned. He completed his lines and bent over me and whispered in my ear, “You’re going to pay for that!” At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. All came clear when he grabbed my ankles and dragged my dead body all the way across the conference room to the exit door I should have collapsed at. I had, after all, died in the wrong place. My face bore the brunt of my error as I experienced a severe case of rug burn. I was then ushered off stage on the stretcher. 


Back stage I had the opportunity to clean up and wait for the finale. Once complete, we all took a bow to a standing ovation! Some audience members stayed to chat with the actors and several of them invited us back to their home to continue the party!


What a night!

by Donald O'Connor

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