Growing Up Brady: I Was a Teenage Greg, Special Collector's Edition by Barry Williams;Chris Kreski Read Free Book Online Page B

explanation for the oversight, so all of the
excruciating close-up footage that I'd painfully endured ended up
on the proverbial cutting-room floor.
    In retrospect, I learned a couple of things on that shoot. One
is that acting can be a great deal harder than it looks. And two,
Shelley Winters packs a mean right hook.
    Over the course of the next few days, the red handprints disappeared from my cheeks, and though I was still a bit traumatized, I did manage to survive. In fact, all it took was one very
exciting phone call to slap a smile back on my face.
    Y'see, everybody has a favorite TV show, and having grown up
as a Peter Graves maniac, mine was of course "Mission: Impossible." You can imagine how thrilled I was when its producers chose
me to play the young king of a fictional Middle Eastern country
known as Sardia. In the episode, those closest to me were taking
advantage of my youth and trying to gain power for themselves
before killing me off. Mr. Phelps's mission, should he decide to
accept it, was to prove that my "friends" were in fact deadly enemies and allow me to retain my rightful position as king.
    The role was farfetched, even dumb, but of all the roles I had
played, it was the most challenging, the most dangerous-and the
kinkiest.
    Challenging, because I wasn't just playing some street punk or
beach bum but the king of a faraway country. It required an accent
which had to be determined, then studied. And the character
would have to undergo major changes within the span of an hour.
    Dangerous, because at the end of the show, my "friendly"
uncle, proves himself to be a traitor by trying to (get this) shoot
me in the face-three times!!! Nice guy.
    Now, to shoot that scene you obviously employ special effects,
and on "Mission: Impossible" the goal was to be as realistic as possible. Thus, the old water pistol schtick was out of the question,
and even blanks were deemed too phony. In short, the "Mission
Impossible" effects guys decided to really shoot at me.

    I'm serious! These guys were obsessed with perfection and
determined that the most realistic way to shoot me in the faceshort of actually killing me, which they probably consideredwould be to get hold of a large, hand-held pellet gun (it actually
shot big ball bearings), aim it at my face, pull the trigger 3 times,
and have the projectiles stopped at the last second by a thick double pane of glass that would separate me and death by about six
inches.
    In theory, the ball bearings were designed to crash through the
first pane of glass and be stopped by the second. My response to
the situation was the perfectly normal one-sheer, gut-wrenching,
lunch-losing terror. Once again a production-conscious assistant
director assured me that I'd be all right, but I wasn't happy.
    The effects guys tested their theory and it worked perfectly, so
now it was time for me to stick my face where it didn't belong, and
film the scene. I was horrified, but I promised God that if I survived, I'd be a changed kid, and went ahead with it. Luckily, everything came off as planned; the effect worked, my face survived,
and only my promise to God was broken.
    Kinky, because a good portion of the episode revolved around
my escape from Sardia disguised as a young, guitar-strumming
gypsy ... girl! The kind of thing that creates Enquirer headlines
like BARRY WII.IdAMS A TEENAGE TRANSVESTITE.! Anyway, here I was, in full
cross-dressed regalia, complete with skirt, lipstick, rouge, false eyelashes (how did women ever wear those things?), and long flowing
brunettte wig. It was uncomfortable-and only got tougher when, a
couple of hours later, I desperately had to use the bathroom.
    First, I had to decide which facility to use. At first I thought it
might be wise to use the ladies' room, but when push came to
shove I just couldn't go in. Finally, when my bladder threw up a
white flag, I was forced to hike up my skirt, throw out my pride,
and, in my most