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being unlike any others, having a deformity or mutation that was unlike anyone else’s in the entire world. They were unique, hence the name Uni.
   “I’m telling you, Sky,” Franz would say. “You are a Uni! An Outie-Uni!”
   “Please. I am not.”
   “Have you ever seen anyone else with tongues for fingers?”
   “No, but—”
   “I rest my case! I’m going to put in your resume that you’re a Uni!”
   “You can’t do that! It’s not true! You’ll get us both in trouble!”
   For months we had the argument over and over, until I’d gone about 11 weeks without getting a single job. I became convinced that my previous successes, however minor they had been, had only been due to luck. I obviously had no talent at all.
   Then I waited until the next time Franz brought up the Uni business and I agreed to let him put it in my resume. I figured, at that point, it sure as hell couldn’t hurt.

28

   The very next week I landed a supporting part in an episode of a popular TV drama, playing the best friend of the suspected villain. In the end, the villain turned out to be me.
   The ironic thing was that I hated television. Always have, always will. I think it is nothing but swill for the brainless but it certainly paid well. No doubt about that. I suspected I would be swallowing my pride quite a bit, ignoring my own opinions and values, showing up for the job and collecting that fat juicy paycheck.
   But, my personal feelings about television and television studios aside, there was still one more negative thing about working in TV. Despite all the positive things your co-workers could say about your performance, it was still months before anyone else saw the work, thereby making it the same as if you’d never done it when it came to meeting new casting directors.
   But I muddled through, forgetting about the show and continuing on to the next project, always keeping in mind that I was lucky to have a next project because there could easily come a day when I woke up and all the projects would be gone. I would be gone, before I’d even arrived.
   It was during this time that I was finally able to attend a few acting classes and it was there that I met Rimona Rishona, the famous porn star. She had decided that she had made enough porn movies (13) and now she wanted to have a “serious career.” She’d been laughed out of almost every audition, most of the casting directors telling her she needed to learn how to act without using her 3 vaginas. So, there she was, in an acting class with me and a bunch of other unknowns, learning monologues and method.
   One night, during a break she began asking me what I thought of her hot tub scene in To Have and Have Hot.    “I didn’t see it,” I told her. “Sorry.”
   “Really?” She was quite surprised. “Well what about, Honey, I Screwed the Kids ?”
   “I haven’t seen any of your movies, Rimona. I’m not into porn.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me! Even with those?” She looked down at my hands.
    “Even with these. Just not my thing, I guess.”
   “Oh, honey, you’d make a fortune with those! Well, you know, not as much as me, but a lot!” She giggled and added, “There aren’t many people with 3 vaginas though!”
   Instead of replying, I took a bite out of my apple.
   She leaned forward in her chair and whispered conspiratorially, “You don’t have three vaginas, do you?”
   “No,” I said, still chewing. “I have a clock.”
   “Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed. “How big is it?”
   I shrugged. “Not very. Maybe the size of a kiwi.”
   Rimona squealed, making me jump and drop my apple. “Shit, Rimona! What the fuck?”
   “That’s pretty big!”
   “It is?”
    “Yeah, most of them are the size of cherries or so. At least the ones I’ve seen anyway.”
   “Hmm.” I drank down the rest of my coffee