Hospital For Overacting

This is the Richard the Third Ward

After viewing my very silly performance in "The Nicolas Cage Speed-Dating Mixer," I'm checking myself into the Hospital for Overacting. Of course, it couldn't all be my fault.  I do believe the director, my youngest son, deserves some blame.  He's the one who kept urging me to go bigger.  My delivery is plenty big, I assure you.  Turns out, there are many ways to say, "Welcome to the Nicolas Cage Speed-Dating Mixer," and I tried every one.  Just the word "welcome" gets bigger with each take, till finally it becomes its own soliloquy. I make that one simple greeting last for days and days: "Weeeeeellllllllcooooommmmme." I promise you'll get to see the reason I never pursued acting, once it's on YouTube and open for public ridicule.  But you have to wait till after his fellow film students rip his three-minute short to shreds in class tomorrow.  On a positive note, my brother, aka Johnny the Clown, is a revelation.