We want to see what you’ve got.  For too long the streets have been starved of fun, of entertainment and joy.

So, show us what you’ve got, we, (myself, Charlotte, Hualalai and Squishy will stand in judgement of your acts.  Kinda like a programme I prophecies will be popular in the 21^st century, it’s the lions den for the 20’s.

Any hoo, they can be anything at all, comedy, dance, midget throwing, attempts to shave Jens legs, anything. Just make them entertaining. 

There are 250 credits available for the best acts distributed as we see fit, plus points awarded to the 500 credit total in the giveaway

So, have some fun, go nuts, show us what you’ve got and lets celebrate our talent, well, your talent.

Have at it you sexy fuckers.

Oh, and for the sake of confusion, please post your entries in this speech, below my.....utterances

I wish you all the best of luck and look forward to what you can bring to the table, i'm genuinely excited.

It wouldn't be long before anyone with a schtick had heard about the talent contest that was roaring throughout the Americas, most people would likely train and practice their skills before making their way into the foray-- there would-be dancers, prancers, and singers galore, and then there would be the sideshow acts; the freaks. With how this place was, more would fit into the latter rather than the former, which is why the Greek had to think fast and be one of the first.

"How long does this contest run for? and how many times can we enter?"

Waiting for the question to be answered before ripping off his shirt and starting his act, he stared at the judges. The muffled roar of a lion and the chatterings of a squirrel could also be heard a short distance away, but unveiling it all before knowing the strict rules of such a contest would be career suicide. 

"Lets just say I have a few ideas."

It was too damn early, and she was not in the mood to put on her public face so she decided to just appear when called with whatever face it was she had on. Probably "Puke in a bathtub and regret it" face, if she had to garner a guess. The stage had been set, in front of it was a stand with three chairs and a table. Finding the chair with her name, along with a glass of red wine she grimaced and pushed the wine towards Artie's spot instead. She wanted to put her head down, take a bit of a nap, phone it in for this, wondering how she agreed to participate. But before her there was a potential act, ready and waiting to perform. 

Rubbing the heels of her hand into her eye sockets she muttered a bit under her breath before trying to smile encouragingly at him, but it was probably just a grimace of pain, suffering and wine. "The contest will run until Artie gets bored and wanders off, I believe." she said, "I also think you can only enter once, so you better make your act count." she leaned forward to see if any rules or requirements had been laid out on the table and then shook her head. "But then again, I don't see the harm in entering more than once. I was forced to agree to this under the influence of a lovely Spanish Red, so I'm not overly fussed about rules." Charlotte said to the man. 

Artie smiled as smiled as Charlotte, with a face like smacked arse, finally came to the table

'I had a lovely spanish red once, but her genital hygiene was........well, less than.  As i've said before, rusty roof, smelly cellar'

GreekFreak you may enter as many times as you like, but quality over quantity my good man.

Her face crinkled up at horror of what Artie was saying to her. "I just..." she said before trailing off. She was at a loss for words, which happened quite a bit around this strange friend of hers. "Thank you for sharing that, I suppose." she finally said before putting her head down on the table. It was going to be a long day, week, maybe even month. She had no idea how long she'd be forced to endure whatever this was. 

While she was hunched over wallowing in her self pity a thought came to her, which wasn't unusual but it still it was a shock given the current state of her cranium throbbing and the dull ringing in her ears. "What are we going to do if it turns out no one is talented?" she asked, "What if we are the only talent in the country," she turned her head slightly to peer at Artie with one eye. "Can I perform?" she asked, "I like money." 

Artie smiled at Charlotte

'can you perform?  don't you always? and yes, of course you can, but you won't be able to win anything, it wouldn't be fair on those less talented all though I can't imagine who they might be'

The aardvark slides a bottle of rioja over

'may as well start again'

MisterHope was nervously waiting for his name to be called after Charlotte was done performing he wanted to run out the building, but he finally gathers the strength to go up the stage when his name is called.

He nervously starts walking up the stairs when he slips and falls. Everyone in the audience starts to laugh. He felt so embarassed. After few moments passed he says to himself

"It can't go any worse than this."

So he picks himself up and finally reaches the centre of the stage. Standing right in front of the mic he tries to speak, his moth moves but words don't come out, his legs trembling and his palms sweating. He didn't know he had stage fright too.

Gathering every shred of strength he had in him MisterHope finally starts his comedy act.

"Hello judges, as you can see I started my comedy even before reaching the mic. Anyway I am MisterHope and I hope to win this contest.

This wasn't part of the joke by the way, I am seriously gonna win."

Once MisterHope finally started speaking, there was no stopping him, he kept joking on and on and not caring of the response from the audience. He wante dto please them and the judges but most importantly he wanted to enjoy doing it. His jokes were just fine like

“Why was the stupid hit man hospitalized? He was sent to blow up a car and burned his lips on the tailpipe.”

But most importantly his desire to win.

When he finished his act he couldn't believe almost walked out before even coming on stage. He thought he would have a nervous breakdown before even getting on stage but he had heard the reward was pretty damn huge for this competition. 

So he gave his best at the act and now he stood in front of the judges waiting for their response. 

It was a Sunday evening and Garou has been venturing through the streets of Vegas, out to make some final profit before his plane was due to leave Las Vegas airport and return him to New York City. As he left the casinos of the famed Strip, his attention was caught by the loud words he heard from a member of the infamous Gli Angeli Della Notte family.

As he stood towards the rear of the large crowd which had gathered to listen, almost fifty people infact, his face began to wear a smile. Recovering from all the recent damage caused to the Cities, it was good to see individuals stepping up and trying to inject some much-needed life into the system once more. He removed his notepad from his blazer and without hesitation, began to jot down a bunch of scribbles and ideas; things which he felt he would be able to create that was not only enter his name into the hat, but also serve as something which could potentially help shine more light onto this occasion. He was no comedian, no juggler, no singer, yet he did have other talents, ones which had already been spread around many of the mafia folk.

Once home in New York, he sat in his darkened office, the only light coming from a small lamp which gave some much needed attention to his theory crafting table. For the next few hours, he worked through a variety of different drafts until he had finally come up with something which he felt fully encompassed all of the aspects he wanted within his final design.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Returning to Vegas a few days later, he paid a visit to the receptionist at the Main Office of the Event hall and handed over a bag containing several pieces of rolled up paper.

“Good day to you. I would very much appreciate if you could see that these reach Prophetic_Aardvark at your earliest convenience.”

Turning, he then left the premises and returned to his home within the Bronx.

Knocking on the door of Prophetic_Aardvark’s office, the receptionist then entered. Removing one of the rolls from the bag, they held it up in front of him and then slowly allowed the piece to be shown.

“Sir Aardvark, these are from Garou of New York. He said that he hoped you liked them and that they would be his entry into your talent competition. He provided us with a number of copies so perhaps we can pin them up around the venue and surrounding areas to aid in the promotional side of things."

Walking into the venue where the talent show was being hosted, Trevor had his best suit on and all of his best jokes memorised for the judges hoping he would give them a good laugh and a great night of entertainment. Tonight he had to please Prophetic_Aardvark, Charlotte, Hualalai and Squishy, this wasn't going to be easy - this was a very harsh bunch of judges but Trevor believed he could make them laugh. Well he hoped just one of them atleast maybe just crack a smile - that would be enough, anything was good aslong as he didn't get booed off stage.

Walking out onto the stage under the light he grabbed the microphone and began.

"Good Evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Trevor 'The Pyromaniac' Philips, I wont be setting anything on fire tonight, well it is a possibility but I am hoping my jokes don't go up in flames.

So on the way down here I took a taxi and got chatting to the driver and he said to me "I'm my own boss and nobody tells me what to do" so I told him to turn left here. Alright, alright, tough crowd I see.

Anyone here like tequila? Well I do but it may not fix your life, but it's definitely worth a shot, however shit gets expensive when you start buying salt and limes.

My wife was quite supportive of me coming here tonight but recently she has been saying to me I need to stop acting like a flamingo, I looked at her confused with my foot in the air covered in pink paint, so I said to her 'I guess its about time I start putting my foot down.'

Ah come on that was a good one - laugh or I'll shoot you. I'm joking! Jesus, don't force it. Have you heard about all of the short people living in Los Angeles? I mean you have to hand it to them, because the majority of the time they cannot reach it.

Alright guys its coming towards the end of my time on stage but I have one more for you: Have you heard about the guys going around stealing all of the wheels from the police vehicles? I spoke to the leading officer of the case this morning and he told me, 'Me and my crew are working tirelessly to find out who stole them.'

Thank you for having me guys, I hope you all enjoyed, it has been a pleasure performing for you all!" Trevor reached out in front of him, he had learned to read Braille so he ran his finger across the note and it read, I'll see myself out.

MaryJane smiled nervously to the stage crew, remembering the last time she performed on stage was with an orchestra behind her that was years ago. She saw the nod and point from the stage manager. Taking a deep breath she wiped her palms against her thighs, feeling the raven black velvet  of her evening gown. Diamond spaghetti straps accentuated her collar bone with matching strappy heels, her hair tossed up in a loose elegant bun. As her heels clicked against the black painted wood stage floor, she approached the grand piano set up center stage flooded by a single spotlight.  Gently clasping the the microphone nearby with her long delicate fingers, she addressed the judges whom she could barely see, blinded by the light. 

Prophetic_Aardvark  Charlotte Hualalai Squishy

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am MaryJane and I am an associate of The Council of Philadelphia. I'd like to play a song that I've been working on recently that is dear and close to my heart, originally sang by Idan Raichel. So without further ado, I present to you my rendition of..."


   And If You Will Come to Me   

The stage lights dimmed briefly, and she began to play.

Now the moment has come
After all you have waited for me
And I always waited for you
And  now that day has arrived
Now I promise
That you'll never be alone 

And if you will suddenly disappear
I'll wait all night
And I will whisper in prayer 
That you'll come back to me

And if you will come to me
We'll stay all night
And I'll whisper words to you
So that you'll know that I'm yours
And in the morning you’ll see that we’ll stay together
Walking this road
Hand in hand forever

"Just remember, quantity over quality." that's what he heard the Aardvark say just before his retreat from out of the talent show and back onto the streets. How many different acts could one man fit into one performance? Well, he was inclined to find out. Deciding to call one of his closest friends to bring him the "good stuff" as he so aptly described it, the young brazen Freak made his way back onto the stage proudly, clapping once to dim the lights before beginning.

"This reminds me of a story I was told as a child by my dear mother." he pulled out a few rings which he clasped to his arms and legs while a rope was tied around the rest of his body. "My mother would always try to raise my spirits with these fantastical stories, you see." Just then, he was yanked up and a pool of water was moved directly under his body which was now precariously dangling over it.

"Okay, fuck. This is high, guys. We said five feet, this is like... ten." He was beginning to squirm as the heights caused him to break out into a mild case of vertigo, the dizziness completely wiping his memory clean while he began to simply mutter words without much meaning behind them.

The flock of a dozen or so doves was set free, but the reasoning behind them was lost on the judges seeing how he hadn't made it to that part in the story yet. With the cues being completely fucked up at this point, things continued to happen as the Greek Freak dangled a solid three feet off of the ground, his feet still somewhat grazing the floor. In his mind, he may as well be atop the Empire State Building back in his hometown of New York.

"Get me... get me down... Guys..."

Just then a barrage of fireworks exploded into the night sky, nearly killing most of the beautiful doves in the process and oversight which he really should have noticed in the planning portion of his act. Without saying another word, the rope snapped and he landed directly into the water beneath him.

There were no words left to be said, instead, he jumped up, albeit a little soaked, and smiled brightly for the judges, as if he had completely forgotten about the tortuous past five minutes. Bowing and finishing up the piece, his two helpers ran over and helped cut him from out of the rope and rings which were still unfortunately attached to his body.

"Ta-da."

Knowing he wasn't going to win shit, he quickly ran off the makeshift stage. 

* Chumps staggers and taking a seat in the front settles in to watch the so called 'contestants' do their best to impress, feeling rather drunk no confident that he can put the rest of these 'eager beavers' to absolute shame with the performance he has in mind.. chuckling and taking a long swill from his silver hip-flask, Chumps bides his time *

'The best should always be saved for .. well , .. nearly last anyway. heh. 

* he mutters under his breath - expecting nobody to really be listening anyway and has a sly chuckle to himself thinking that if this is the best that there is on offer so far he must surely already have it 'in the bag' with his idea of how to best demonstrate some real, irrefutable talent...so these people wan't to see them some talent, eh .. he wonders to himself ..then sure. i'll be more than delighted show them talent, at least a quarter of a bucket full* ( hic )

Hats and Handkerchiefs

Dhien took to the stage like an actor from a silent film, gesturing large with his hands in a sweeping motion as he acknowledged the judges with a bow of the head. He removed his fedora, placed it on the ground then did the same with a handkerchief that he had folded into a pocket square and stuffed into the front pocket of his jacket. So on the stage onlookers could see a hat with a handkerchief in front of it.

Keeping with the silent theme, he snapped his fingers, as if experiencing a eureka moment, then headed toward the nearest man wearing a fedora and also carrying a handkerchief. If there wasn't a public audience allowed in to witness these marvels, Dhien would've planted a couple of sharp looking individuals in the room somewhere to make sure he'd have access to the necessary props.

After swiping the hat and handkerchief from one audience member, he'd scan for another and do the same then return to the stage, adding them to his own. Dhien then made wild gestures with his hands pointing to the props. Three hats. Three handkerchiefs.

Dhien first took two of the handkerchiefs and waved them in the air, showing that he was holding two and then pointed to the other that was on the stage. He then stacked one of the hats on top of the handkerchief on the stage and placed another handkerchief on top of that hat.

Dhien waved his arms around, making a big deal so that the audience and judges could see that one handkerchief was on top of the hat and one was underneath it. He then stacked the other two hats on top of the first, creating a tower, and wiped his brow with the last remaining handkerchief.

After an attempt at creating a moment of suspense by drumming the air with invisible sticks, he picked up the hats, revealing two handkerchiefs under the stack, implying one had magically pushed through the top of the bottom hat.

The young man waved the third handkerchief around in the air, trying to rile up a response from those watching. With a raised finger, he then gestured for them to wait a moment, again pretending another eureka light-bulb had burst in the youngsters cranium.

In a similar setup, he placed a handkerchief on the ground, the difference being he then added a second to the bottom pile. Then again one of the hats was placed on top, obscuring the handkerchiefs from view and the other hats were immediately stacked on top of one another, forming the tower as before.

With the third handkerchief in hand, Dhien once again wiped his brow, acting up that this was stressful shit, then tucked that handkerchief away into his trouser pocket. With a finger in the air he mimed a one, a two and a three count, then he knocked over the stack of hats to reveal all three of the handkerchiefs lying there in a pile together, pointing out that the third one had magically jumped from his trouser pocket to appear under the stack with the other two.

With more silent gesturing and over-the-top theatrics, Dhien tried to pump up and take in whatever reaction onlookers gave before returning the props to their owners, making sure to show the judges and whomever else in the process, that the hats had no holes in them and the handkerchiefs were simply what they appeared to be.

After one last play to the judges in the form of a finishing bow of the head, the young con left the stage.

The routine of cups and balls was a common one on the streets where Dhien grew up and he'd witnessed many an urchin and budding magician even trying it on unsuspecting bettors. If they could earn some coin from it, he figured he'd give it a shot here. At the very least, he'd swiped a couple of wrist watches from the people he borrowed the props from when returning them. Win... win?

* Chumps smiles and deciding it is about the correct time to demonstrate his unique talent, stands up and stretches then whispering something into the ear of Meat-Head, one of his most loyal bodyguards, who then darts off to organize the props that will be required for Chumps inevitably award winning performance. Returning a short time later pushing a hand trolley with a portable changing booth, Meat-Head asks Chumps where he wants it to be set up and Chumps motions with his hand to an area directly in front of but a little towards the right of the judges platform, the booth set up, Meat-Head then instructs four other bodyguards to assist him and they proceed to all pile into a large truck and drive away to fetch the biggest item that will be required for Chumps upcoming demonstration, with that Chumps addresses the gathered spectators and the lord high sole judge Prophetic_Aardvark *

Ahem.. *clears throat* .. 
Greetings esteemed underworld types! Well i guess that here is the moment you have all been waiting for...

*Then, glancing around, Chumps notices most of the other people gathered seem to not actually be 'waiting' at all but shrugs it off and continues.. completely unfazed"

.. yes indeed folks, i am here to show you all something you will not see everyday..!

*Chumps takes of his hat, steps out of his loafers, slips out of his jacket, and while slowly unbuttoning his shirt, continues speaking..*

And it's not what your thinking, whatever the hell it is your thinking .. that's not it. this is something else.. something..well,. completely different! something i dare say none of you could have expected.

*At that moment Chumps then disappears inside the portable changing booth, pulling the curtain closed behind him.. From down the street the truck returns and parks nearby .. the bodyguards can be heard mumbling about a 'lousy damn job' as they set to work unloading some very large unknown object, hidden under a cover, that is obviously very heavy and awkward to move judging by the grunts and groans of the bodyguards struggling to move it.. then Chumps voice rises again from inside the booth,,*

Hurry the hell up Meat-Head! he hollers, i'm nearly ready to get started!

*In response Meat-Head flips the bird finger and pulls a disgruntled face in the general direction of the changing booth, mumbling something difficult to hear clearly about 'damn job description'.. and  ..'pain in the ass employer'.... shortly thereafter Chumps voice is again heard from inside the booth..*

Oi Meat-Heat...Did you remember the damned olive oil ?! 

* he yells angrily . and in reply Meat-Head grumbles back *

Yes, yes.. keep your hair on, we did not forget the damned gallon of oil!..

*The bodyguards continue bringing the large object towards the area where Chumps is concealed inside the booth,, and when it is finally in position .. Meat-Head calls out 'ready!' and stands to one side, a short while later Chumps emerges from the booth wearing only some bright yellow polka-dot tights, and a bright red cape with the embroidered words ' The Great Umberto ' in large letters upon it. .. then signaling Meat-Head with a movement of his head.to hand him the gallon of olive oil .. and whilst covering himself head to toe with the oil Chumps again addresses the judge and the few spectators that have gathered around*

Let me start with a little background story for all you good folks.. When i was young i had, to be frank, a very unhappy home life on account of my late dead beat, degenerate father frivolously squandering all of his earnings in the illegal gambling dens and speakeasies, so truth be told, we seldom even had enough to eat, and had to be constantly moving to new abodes, due to unpaid rent, so being a born survivor.. as soon as i saw my chance i ran away to join the travelling circus, this is where i learned the particular art that i shall be presently demonstrating for you all here today.

*Chumps, by now completely drenched in olive oil, turns gives Meat-Head an angry look and grumbles .." get the damned mattress out of the truck and into position already.. will you!, ... gawd damn it i explained how it's all about perfect timing and your going to ruin my whole performance here with your slack and lackadaisical attitude! ".. and with that Meat-Head, scowling, orders another bodyguard to accompany him and they go back to the truck to unload a large queen sized mattress and using a measuring tape place it at quite a distance from the massive object still concealed from view under its covering.. whilst this is being done Chumps once again addresses the onlookers.*

Marvel all, if you will, at the amazing feat of daring and precision, the rare and amazing spectacle of .... 

* Chumps pauses for dramatic effect, grinning inanely, looking utterly ridiculous now, covered in olive oil, wearing his cape and polka dot tights.... checking to see the mattress is set in it's correct place... before grabbing one corner of the large cover and throwing it off to reveal a massive, military style cannon *

...   Charles Umberto, the amazing human cannonball !! ...  *He loudly and proudly announces, as slipping and clambering he cautiously climbs his way gradually up the barrel of the massive weapon, nearly falling off numerous times, but eventually reaching the large bore hole and maneuvering himself down inside the barrel.. his head the only part of his body left poking out at the end of the gigantic barrel "

" Are you ready with the powder? " ..* he calls down to Meat-Heat who is now standing behind the cannon already pouring gunpowder into the chamber designed for that purpose.  *

"Yes, i have it almost done already" Meat-Head replied gruffly, obviously not at all happy to be any part of this ridiculous stunt, but having not much choice in the matter.

*Chumps waves and again speaks to the judge and the onlookers*

"Hold on to your hats my friends! and prepare to be absolutely amazed"

*Then.. pausing again just before disappearing completely inside the barrel of the cannon, calls some final instruction's down to Meat-Head, now standing ready to ignite the gunpowder and fire the cannon *
' I Hope you remembered to use exactly the amount i told you to use, if there's too little i will land on my face and could risk looking like a complete idiot here!'

'I Got it, i got it, sheeeesh, get in there already' Replied Meat-Head.

" Good, okay then, good ..at the count of ten then, as we discussed earlier! "

* Then sliding himself down into the barrel Chumps is finally satisfied that preperations are complete. *

1..2..3..4,,5,,6,,7,,8,,9.. BOOOOOOOOOM!

*As Meat-Head ignites the powder.. Chumps flies into the air .. over everyone's heads intending to land safely on the mattress.. Has a moment of sheer terror when he overshoots the mattress landing instead with a loud thump and an almighty crash directly onto the roof of Prophetic_Aardvarks brand new car parked across the street, Then screaming out in agony and wracked with shame, leaving a large dent in the automobile, and breaking both of his legs and fracturing his skull.. still lucky to even be alive, but sort of almost wishing now that he wasn't *

" Damn it, that really, really bloody hurt! " .. A bruised and broken Chumps mumbles to himself as his body guards rush to get him taken into to the nearest hospital..

Harper was sitting in the audience enjoying listening to the people share their stories.  She had a few drinks trying to drown out the events of the day and relax.  But with each sip she got madder and decided to share her story.

A little unstable she approached the stage. She sat on a stool, placed her drink on the table next to it and grabbed the microphone.

Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen

The day before yesterday I visited my Aunt Lorraine in the hospital.

Just as I was approaching her room there was a couple of nurses in front of her room saying to each other “should we tell him, should we tell him. 

Harper picks up her glass and takes a few sips then places her drink back on the table.

Well one nurse steps up and approaches the doctor and says.

Dr. Peters you have a rectal thermometer behind your ear.

Dr. Peters pulls the rectal thermometer from behind his ear, looks at it and says “Oh my God some asshole has my pencil.

The audience busted out in laughter. This made Harper even more furious.

Well when I walked into Aunt Lorraine’s room she told me she was rather uncomfortable, she pointed to her buttocks.  Needless to say it was her asshole that had the pencil.

Last night Allen Price a prominent lacrosse player visited Aunt Lorraine in the hospital.  When the same nurses saw him carrying Dr. Peter's rectal thermometer he didn’t wait for them to ask.  He just told them some dump doctor’s ass has his Crosse. (lacrosse stick)

Harper picked up her glass and walked off the stage.

Loki was never a man who had a lot of confidence in himself but he loved a good laugh. He had been walking around Los Angeles when he heard about "Mafia's Got Talent" competition running in the streets. Immediately, Loki went back to the HQ to review his best dad jokes. He never really could come up with his own real jokes so he made jokes out of jokes to make people laugh. Dad jokes were always a hit because they are stupid yet funny.

As he arrives, he awaits his opportunity to step on stage. Sweating from places he never knew you could sweat from, Loki was next up in line. After the previous act, Loki was called up to the center stage and greeted by the judges.

"Hello folks, My name is Loki. I am not really a comedian but let's see what I can try out here!" Loki looks down at his sheet of paper before looking back to the judges nervously. He then takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"What is brown and sticky?..... A Stick!"

"What's the most detail oriented ocean?....The Pacific!"

"Come on, those are hilarious! Alright, Alright, One More. What kind of sneakers do chickens wear?...ReBAWKS! ReBAWKS!"

Loki bowed his head and thanked the judges for their time as he exited left off of the stage.

The seer to fear was thoroughly entertained.  But Trevor? Wow, when he died, he really died!

we shall be making our opening judgements this weekend so don't worry, we haven't forgotten about you but with Trevor retiring that opens things up!

hopefully we'll be seeing more of you soon

While his entire body of talent show work was mediocre at best and some of the residues from his act remained on his trousers, there was a well-documented truth that every act came in parts and every show had multiple acts; this was only the beginning for the sad sack who would give up at nothing to at least get a mention from the judges. It was no longer about the money that could be earned at this point and was instead about one thing only: Being noticed.

You would be surprised how small such a tall man could truly feel, and finishing with high marks in a mafia-ran talent show was now promptly at the top of his bucket list. So rushing behind the stage he pulled out a rather large wad of cash, almost everything that he had on him at the moment, and deftly snuggled it into Prophetic_Aardvark's pocket... if they even had those? He didn't know a lot about Aardvark anatomy, but this was the best that the Freak could do on such short notice.

"So, uh, I know I didn't win, but there should be a section detailing those who tried their best, yeah?" 

You would be lead to believe that bribing someone just to be mentioned on a list would be one of the sadder things that he had done in his lifetime, but this wouldn't even scratch the top ten. "Just, like, pop my name somewhere." taking out another small stash of money, he placed it onto the judge's counter and briskly walked away.

If having a lot of money didn't count as a talent, then he was shit out of luck.

As her hangover subsided thanks to the coffee the stage hands kept bringing her, or at least that’s what she called the youths she had bribed to bring them, and she was starting to feel human again. Rubbing her face she yet again side to Artie at the side of her, “I can not believe I let you convince me to do this,” before pasting on a smile, that she hoped looked genuine just as the first performer got to the stage. Before her sat two signs, one with a happy face, and one with a sad face. Given the performance she’d hold one up. And if the act was really good, well the kid stashed under the table with the airhorn would let everyone know, if she kicked him hard enough. 

As the man made his way to the stage he tripped, and like much of the audience of three, she leaned forward out of her chair concerned. It wasn’t until he made a joke of it once on stage that she let herself relax and a little laugh escaped. It was the best way to deal with this, laugh them off. “Good luck, MisterHope.” She called out, before settling in to see if his actual bit was as funny as the accidental start to it. 
She laughed a few times at his jokes, but they weren’t anything that stood out to her as amazing. She held up the frowning sign, “It was a very good act, although I’m not sure if memorizing lines out of a joke book counts as talent.” She said to him as gently as possible. “But perhaps my co-judges thought differently,” 

Once the man left the stage another quickly took his place. Well, rather it was a stand with a poster on it. She sighed and looked down at the table before holding up the frowning face. The artwork was good, but appealing to one judge rather than all of them, seemed a bit short sighted. Once the art was cleared away, they waited for the next to arrive. It wasn’t until a stage hand ran up to whisper, well stage whisper, that the next act had tragically passed. She hoped it wasn’t due to boredom of waiting for the contest to be judged. 

But the show must go on, so she crossed herself, said a silent prayer for the man and then also for her own sanity and turned her attention back to the stage where a woman was taking a seat behind a piano. The woman looked nervous, but the moment the music started, Charlie was impressed. Without much urging she held up the smiley face sign and nudged the lad under the table to set off the alarms with the bullhorn. 
“Congratulations! You have made it to the final round!” She yelled, before realizing she couldn’t be heard over the bullhorn so she bent over, yanking the cloth on the table up and ripping the offending noise maker from his hands. Holding it to her mouth she repeated, “Congratulations! You have made it to the final round!” before clapping for the woman who had done tremendously well. 

As the stage hands swept up the confetti and wheeled the piano away Charlotte motioned for another coffee, this whole judging thing was exhausting. Glancing over she nearly growled, seeing that at some point Artie had decided to take a nap. “Bloody pest.” She muttered before crossing her arms over her chest. 

As the acts continued, she had been quite interested in GreekFreak’s but she assumed the ending, although it ended with a splash, wasn’t what he was going for as he ran off before she even had a chance to hold up the sign, this one was smiling, but also she held the frowny one. Clearly mistakes happened, there was no story, but it was dumb and amused her so she was willing to see what else he had to offer. 

“Strange,” she said after he ran off, but quickly forgot about him as the next person came on stage. The next act did not speak, only gestured a lot. She hated mimes, they terrified her. Who would choose to be silent? But she watched, albeit a bit bored with a hand propping her head up. She knew the trick, any one who ran the streets did, but the audience seemed to like it. And for that alone, and his showmanship, although not his silence, she held up a smiley face sign before he left. If anything, the new watch on his wrist earned that advancement to the next round. 

The next man started stripping and Charlie put her head down on the table with a groan. It had been a long day, and she was not in the mood to see another pasty naked body, christ, there just wasn’t enough wine in the world for this. Then the yelling about olive oil started and she was concerned it was going to be naked wrestling and against her better judgement looked up to see the man dressed in his absurd costume emerge. A giggle escaped her mouth, and she found herself sitting up a bit to watch and see whatever this strange mostly nude greased up man was going to do. 

As the man flew through the air she put her hands to her mouth in shock and awe, and when she realized just about the time everyone else did, that he wouldn’t be hitting his mark she let out a cry of surprise and fear. That’s right, two emotions in one. Once the man crash landed, she quickly motioned to the stage hands to see if he was ok, she didn’t think they’d be liable for his injuries. But it was better to be safe than bankrupt. 

The next act was amusing, but comedy was never really her thing. She clapped politely, laughed at all the right bits, but in the end Harper was sent off with a frowny face. As Loki took the stage, and pulled out a bit of paper to start reading “His” jokes she slid down in her chair holding up the frowny face, and praying for death or fire or perhaps Chumps could come and land on stage ending the event all together.