*sigh*
another chapter has found its way to me.
i swear i have nothing to do with this other than someone(s) puking this stuff into my inbox every week along with a threat.
they also tell me that all your questions will be answered in this here next chapter.........this ain't no 'lost.'
Chapter 9: Meanwhile, Somewhere Else...
"This is the worst script I've ever read."
"It's not a script, Mr. Spielberg."
"It's not? Good. Because it sucks. Where's the cute, endearing alien? Or the improbably giant, man-eating sharp-toothed creature? Or at least a decent action hero-type character so we can shoehorn Harrison Ford into the picture?"
"Uh, Mr. Spielberg, don't you think Mr. Ford is getting...a bit...weathered for action roles?"
"Don't tell me my job! Harry's still got some good years left in him. In fact, someone's going to have to go after this...'Robeaie' character. Cripes, what kind of a name is that? We'll have to think of something better. Anyway, my point is, what this picture could use is a good action hero. Get Harry on the phone."
"But it's not a scr--"
"Are you questioning me again? You're fired! Send that other assistant in when you leave - the one with the big...tracts of land."
"You mean Alison? Her tracts aren't that big...she only owns about ten acres."
"Just tell her to get Harry on the phone. And get out!"
"You want me to tell her to get out before or after she gets Mr. Ford on the phone?"
"No, I want you to tell her to get him on the phone, and then you get out!"
"Oh."
"It's impossible to find good help these days."
Harrison could hear his hips and knees creak as he hauled himself out of his armchair to dig his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He'd forgotten to take it out and leave it close to the chair. He was getting damned forgetful these days.
Wincing at the arthritis pain in his knuckles, he flipped open the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Ford?"
"Yeah."
"Please hold for Mr. Spielberg."
Great, him again. Harrison rolled his eyes. Steve always managed to talk him into doing things no one at his age should do. Come on...another Indiana Jones? Really?
"Harry?"
"Yeah."
"Great to hear from you! Listen -"
"You called me."
"Huh?"
"You called me. You're not hearing from me, I'm hearing from you."
"Sorry, I have a cold. Anyway -"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Never mind. I have a project that's perfect for you."
"Oh, not again."
"No, listen, you're gonna love this. It's got action, drama, intrigue, action, car chases, action, and guns."
Harrison sighed and lowered himself into his chair, grunting when his left hip popped painfully. "I don't think-"
"No, you haven't heard the best part. Jaycinth's in it."
The pain melted away. "Jaycinth? Really?" Damn.
This was the holy grail - even five minutes in a film involving Jaycinth, and he could retire.
"See? I told you it's perfect. Look, Harry, I'm pressed for time and I gotta get a decent writer working on this thing because it's a bit rough, but I'll send you what I've got, okay? Are you on board?"
"Well, you know I have to see the script-"
"Don't worry, Harry, I know you're gonna love it. I'll have Alison make the arrangements and you can go meet Jaycinth on location."
"Wait, wait, wait - this thing's already in production?"
"It will be when you get there, Harry. Alison will be in touch with your travel arrangements."
Harrison opened his mouth to protest, but the phone went dead in his ear.
Damn. Steve always did this - drop a bomb in his lap, then hang up expecting him to just go along with it.
Still...Jaycinth.
"Hello? Writer?"
Um...yes?
"Oh, nice to see you're still paying attention. Are you having a good time? Hmm? Keeping yourself entertained, I hope?"
Uh...
"Well, it's great to see you're keeping your mind active. Listen, I know I'm just a humble zebra-nana and all, but do you think you could get this plot moving again sometime soon? We're all just dying to see what happens next, I can tell you."
You don't have to be so snotty.
"Snotty? Oh, I wouldn't dream of being snotty. But listen. This Steven Spielberg/Harrison Ford thing? It's really stupid."
I thought it was funny.
"Oh, I'm sure you did. Cracked yourself right up, I imagine. But I'd advise you to get rid of it."
That last writer did the same thing with the Presidents.
"If that last writer jumped off the Empire State Building, would you do it?"
Would there be a parachute?
"Very cute. Get your ass back in that chair and get this plot moving forward again, will you?"
Fine. Sorry.
"Farking writers..."
------
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5?
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
another chapter has found its way to me.
i swear i have nothing to do with this other than someone(s) puking this stuff into my inbox every week along with a threat.
they also tell me that all your questions will be answered in this here next chapter.........this ain't no 'lost.'
Chapter 9: Meanwhile, Somewhere Else...
"This is the worst script I've ever read."
"It's not a script, Mr. Spielberg."
"It's not? Good. Because it sucks. Where's the cute, endearing alien? Or the improbably giant, man-eating sharp-toothed creature? Or at least a decent action hero-type character so we can shoehorn Harrison Ford into the picture?"
"Uh, Mr. Spielberg, don't you think Mr. Ford is getting...a bit...weathered for action roles?"
"Don't tell me my job! Harry's still got some good years left in him. In fact, someone's going to have to go after this...'Robeaie' character. Cripes, what kind of a name is that? We'll have to think of something better. Anyway, my point is, what this picture could use is a good action hero. Get Harry on the phone."
"But it's not a scr--"
"Are you questioning me again? You're fired! Send that other assistant in when you leave - the one with the big...tracts of land."
"You mean Alison? Her tracts aren't that big...she only owns about ten acres."
"Just tell her to get Harry on the phone. And get out!"
"You want me to tell her to get out before or after she gets Mr. Ford on the phone?"
"No, I want you to tell her to get him on the phone, and then you get out!"
"Oh."
"It's impossible to find good help these days."
#
Wincing at the arthritis pain in his knuckles, he flipped open the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Ford?"
"Yeah."
"Please hold for Mr. Spielberg."
Great, him again. Harrison rolled his eyes. Steve always managed to talk him into doing things no one at his age should do. Come on...another Indiana Jones? Really?
"Harry?"
"Yeah."
"Great to hear from you! Listen -"
"You called me."
"Huh?"
"You called me. You're not hearing from me, I'm hearing from you."
"Sorry, I have a cold. Anyway -"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Never mind. I have a project that's perfect for you."
"Oh, not again."
"No, listen, you're gonna love this. It's got action, drama, intrigue, action, car chases, action, and guns."
Harrison sighed and lowered himself into his chair, grunting when his left hip popped painfully. "I don't think-"
"No, you haven't heard the best part. Jaycinth's in it."
The pain melted away. "Jaycinth? Really?" Damn.
This was the holy grail - even five minutes in a film involving Jaycinth, and he could retire.
"See? I told you it's perfect. Look, Harry, I'm pressed for time and I gotta get a decent writer working on this thing because it's a bit rough, but I'll send you what I've got, okay? Are you on board?"
"Well, you know I have to see the script-"
"Don't worry, Harry, I know you're gonna love it. I'll have Alison make the arrangements and you can go meet Jaycinth on location."
"Wait, wait, wait - this thing's already in production?"
"It will be when you get there, Harry. Alison will be in touch with your travel arrangements."
Harrison opened his mouth to protest, but the phone went dead in his ear.
Damn. Steve always did this - drop a bomb in his lap, then hang up expecting him to just go along with it.
Still...Jaycinth.
#
Um...yes?
"Oh, nice to see you're still paying attention. Are you having a good time? Hmm? Keeping yourself entertained, I hope?"
Uh...
"Well, it's great to see you're keeping your mind active. Listen, I know I'm just a humble zebra-nana and all, but do you think you could get this plot moving again sometime soon? We're all just dying to see what happens next, I can tell you."
You don't have to be so snotty.
"Snotty? Oh, I wouldn't dream of being snotty. But listen. This Steven Spielberg/Harrison Ford thing? It's really stupid."
I thought it was funny.
"Oh, I'm sure you did. Cracked yourself right up, I imagine. But I'd advise you to get rid of it."
That last writer did the same thing with the Presidents.
"If that last writer jumped off the Empire State Building, would you do it?"
Would there be a parachute?
"Very cute. Get your ass back in that chair and get this plot moving forward again, will you?"
Fine. Sorry.
"Farking writers..."
------
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5?
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
