Disclaimer: I don't own Urinetown.

Author's Note: Second chapter… Cladwell has decided to put on a musical… but can his staff actually sing? Can they dance? Can they even remember their lyrics? And if they can't, what will Mr. Cladwell do?

"No, McQueen, it's NOT 'end up here where those coins all belong,' however true that may be. It's 'end up here to correct all that's wrong.' I don't get how those things get confused. We don't want a revolution on our hands, do we, McQueen?"

"N-no, sir," stammered McQueen.

"Right. Now, everyone! From the top! And a one, and a two, and a five, six, seven, eight!"

Cladwell began to sing and dance, while the others danced around him.

"I saw gray skies, foreboding and cold

I saw gray skies, and made them rain gold!

Now those skies aren't too bleak to behold

Not so gray, and they pay for themselves by tenfold!

I took this down that formally stank—" here Mr. Cladwell wiggled his rear and kicked his foot back. His staff burst into giggles, because it's really funny when guys do that. Cladwell rolled his eyes and continued the song. "I took this town and made it smell swank,

I fixed things that seemed they would soon tank

I'm the man with the plan, and so who should you thank?"

At this part, the whole group burst into song:

"Mr. Cladwell, we're so thankful,

For that bank full of dough—"

"No, no, no!" said Cladwell. "Those are not the words. It's "Grateful for this great world we know!" As heartless as this may sound, people just don't seem to care about our luxury vacations. They actually don't know about that, and I'm trying to keep it that way. Also, Ms. Brotworst, it's right leg kick, then left leg kick, and THEN pirouette, not the other way around. And Ms. Vyper, are you even singing? I don't see your mouth moving. Come on, everyone!"

"I don't think this is working, Mr. Cladwell," said Senator Fipp, who was not in the song but happened to be there at the time. "Maybe your staff just don't sing and dance."

Cladwell realized that Senator Fipp might be right. What else could he do, though? He couldn't go back to his original idea—hey, maybe he could! He didn't have to use people who were actually related to play a family, did he? "All right. Change of plan," he announced. "We're now doing a video of the perfect modern family. I'm going to need one man, one woman and two children. We'll have auditions in two weeks."

"Um, what should we do for the audition?" Mrs. Millennium asked. She had actually been one of the better people in the musical number, and was disappointed that they weren't continuing with it, but Mr. Cladwell was right. Most of the staff kind of sucked.

"Just—just do something, okay?" Cladwell said. He had just realized he had no idea how to conduct an audition. This was going to be interesting.

"All right," said Mrs. Millennium, a bit unsure. She knew how auditions were supposed to work. There was supposed to be something specific you were supposed to do—at least something more specific than what Cladwell had said. However, she decided to just go with it. Cladwell's non-specificness probably meant that a lot of people were going to do incredibly stupid things for the audition. Mrs. Millennium was pretty sure Cladwell wasn't going to try to do another musical, so she didn't have to worry about singing or dancing. She already had something in mind to use for the audition. With that in mind, Mrs. Millennium went back to her office to finish her work/practice for the audition.