The Return of the Monologue From Hell

What are these words I hear coming from my throat against my will? What horror has been unleashed? The first time I had to do a prepared comic monologue as part of an audition, it didn't go over so well. I was trying out for a part in a holiday production at a theater that, although small and tucked away in a nondescript office park, manages to get a lot of awards and recognitions from local media. Unfortunately, the only comic monologue I had ready was one dealing with anger and disappointment and sex - mostly sex - and probably wasn't what the director wanted to hear. Frankly, I wasn't that thrilled with it myself. When I finished, the director flatly said, "Thank you," which I mentally translated as, "Please leave and don't come back." But I came back this year, determined to correct the mistakes of the past, to audition for a brand-new holiday production. I took center stage, stood tall, and begin speaking - the same damn monologue. It wasn't what I had planned; I had chosen a nice, lighthearted one for the occasion, but somehow the first accursed line just popped out. I felt powerless to stop or turn back, so went on, in horror, to the bloody end. Somehow I got a callback. Perhaps the curse was broken? But no, it seems I haven't been cast. Isn't that just like a curse, to make you think you've escaped, and then bam, it gets you after all.