Short Story Alternate Captain Dither: The Procrastiteers
The Procrastiteers
Dennis Shelley was on a break, sitting in a chair. Dennis was wearing a tuxedo while tapping his foot with a glazed look in his eyes. He was watching the crew as they set up for the next scene.
A large pedestal with a clear plastic square case on top was placed on a step in the center of the stage. A glass marble was put into the case. The stage had been painted white and there were bedsheets hung on curtain rods around around the set. It was designed to create the illusion of elegance. TV, film, and theater were nothing more than magic, smoke, and mirrors.
A man on the side, wearing headphones, scrunched up his face. He looked around, confused. Waving a finger, the man with the headphones got the attention of the director. The director walked over to investigate the issue. The man took off his headphones, offering them to the director. The director took the headphones, put them to his ears, and had a listen. There was an odd, heavy, 'plonk, plonk, plonk' sort of noise, under the shuffling of the background sounds. The director pulled the headphones away, with the same puzzled look on his face as the one the sound guy had.
The director pulled a walkee-talkee from his pocket and uttered some instructions into it. Within a few minutes, almost everyone on stage and near it stopped moving. The crew had gone silent. The director put the headphones to his ear, again. The strange 'plonk, plonk, plonk," continued. The director and the sound guy looked at each other, checked over the equipment, and still the sound remained.
The frustrated director stomped into the center of the sound stage. He looked around, determined to find the source of the strange sound. None of the crew were moving. Everything appeared to be still. Then, out of the corner of his eye, the director saw some movement. He saw Dennis's knee bouncing. The director lowered his gaze and saw that Dennis's foot was tapping. He let out an exasperated sigh. "SHELLEY!" The director growled.
Upon hearing his name, Dennis snapped upright in his chair. "Huh?"
"STOP THAT GODDAMN TAPPING!" The director ordered. "THE NOISE IS BEING PICKED UP BY THE FUCKING STAGE MICS!"
"Oh," Dennis blushed and crossed his ankles under the chair. "Sorry."
"CONTINUE RESETTING FOR THE NEXT SCENE!" The director called to the rest of the crew. The director went to sit in his chair. He picked up his clipboard and pen and began making some notes.
Dennis squirmed in his seat. He folded his hands into his lap. Then he unfolded his hands. He put his arms on the armrests of his chair. He took them off. Dennis stood up, earning a glance from the director. Dennis sat back down. Dennis picked up his water bottle, unscrewed the top, and took a drink. He wiped his mouth, when finished, replacing the cap. Dennis lightly tossed the bottle of water back and forth in his hands.
"Bob?" The sound guy called, getting the director's attention. When the director glanced in his direction, he pointed to Dennis. The director gave Dennis a dirty look, causing Dennis to put put the water bottle down.
The director looked at the stage and then down at his watch, nodding to himself. "Ok," He glanced over at Dennis. "Dennis, I need you on stage. Your character, 'Dylan Drake,' is dancing with 'Lee Kitt." The director looked around. "Has anyone seen Julie?" There was a pause and no answer. "Can someone go to Julie Mariwether's -?"
A door opened and closed on the side of the stage, letting in a brief burst of blinding light from the outside. A tall woman with light brown hair in an evening gown came walking up to the stage. She was being followed by a tall, burly, man in an expensive suit. The had long thick blond hair, that he kept tied in a ponytail.
"Oh good, Julie." The director smiled. "I was just about send someone to find you." Upon seeing the man, the director, immediately, stood up. "Uh... Tom!"
The man with the ponytail waved to the director, palm down, the cuff of his sleeve rising a little to reveal a portion of a gold watch. "Relax, Bob. I'm just here to watch. There's no need to go to any trouble over me."
"Ok..." The director returned to his chair. He went back to business setting up the scene for Dennis and Julie to act out. "Ok, This is a party at the museum celebrating the donation of the Cat's Eye emerald by the Drake Foundation. Lee," The director pointed to Julie. "Is standing by a display case, looking at the Cat's Eye Emerald. Dylan" The director pointed to Dennis. "Approaches her. He introduces himself as Dylan Drake. Chats her up a little. Invites her to dance. Yada... You both are flirting and playing coy. What Dylan doesn't know is that Lee Kitt is actually Puma Prime, Captain D's main villain for this week's episode. She is a cat burglar set out to steal the Cat's Eye Emerald. Puma Prime showed up as Lee..." The director pointed to Julie, again. "In order to get a glimpse of security system. And of course nobody knows that Dylan Drake is really Captain D." The director waved the actors onto the stage. "Ok, take your places. Keep it lively, we're having fun, and stay on script." The director glared at Dennis. Julie went to stand in front of the display case with a big green glass trapezoid inside. Dennis went to go stand off to the side, waiting for the cue to make his entrance. "and action." commanded the director in a whisper.
Lee stood before the display case. She appeared to be admiring the emerald in the glass box, but her pupils were at the corners of her eyes. She was trying to identify the location of all the security cameras. She could have cared less about the party.
Dylan adjusted the collar of his Tuxedo. Parties weren't really his favorite thing. Attending these functions was just part of his job as wealthy philanthropist. He sighed, putting on a fake smile, trying not to look bored. "Yes." Dylan nodded to a guest. "How nice to see you again!" Small talk sucked. Dylan looked around and truly grinned. By the Emeralds was a vision in gold. He approached the lady. "Lovely, aren't they?"
Lee started, then smiled. "Magnificent!" She agreed. "And you are...?" She extended her hand to Dylan.
Dylan took the lady's hand. "Mr. Drake, madam." He lightly kissed the top of the hand. "And who might you be?"
"Lee Kitt." She introduced herself, pulling back her hand. Lee leaned in close. "Are you as bored as I am, right now."
"You took the words right out of my mouth." Dylan's eyes sparkled and a wry chuckle entered his voice. He offered his hand. "Shall we change that with a dance."
"You're awfully presumptuous, Mr. Drake." Lee replied.
"Goes with the territory." Dylan smirked. He offered his hand, again. "Shall we, Miss?"
"Oh, fine." Lee took Dylan's hand, allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor. "What more do you know about the emeralds, Mr. Drake?" Lee smiled.
"Oh, nothing much." Dylan replied. "They've been in my family for generations. And then one day, I thought, 'Why not share these jewels with the world?' So I donated them to the museum. And why don't you call me Dylan. Mr. Drake was my father."
"Only if you call me Lee." She laughed. Lee's finger played along Dylan's shoulder. "Ha!" Dylan returned. "As you wish, Lee. It's such an unique name. Where did you get the name, 'Lee?"
"I was named after my great-grandmother." Lee responded. "Are you sure the emeralds will be safe in the museum?"
"The museum has top notch security," Dylan said. "The Emerald couldn't be safer." Dylan thought a moment. "This party is a boor. If you want, I could give you a private tour of the museum. I can't think of anything better than escorting a lady through a quiet museum."
Lee hesitated as if uncertain what to say next.
"CUT!" Came the exasperated cry from the sidelines. "DAMMIT, DENNIS!" The director screamed. "I told you no adlibbing!"
Dennis turned red.
The producer held up his hand. "It's alright, Bob." He soothed the director.
"Uh.." The director stammered. "If you say so, Tom."
"Is there anyway you guys could take a break?" The guy with the ponytail asked.
"Sure." The director responded, then spoke into his walkee. "What do you need, Tom?"
"I think it'd be best if we talk in the boardroom." The producer said. "Dennis, you come along, too, this concerns you as well." He led the way out of the studio with Dennis and The director following.
The room was paneled on four sides with a light oak Formica. On three sides of the room, the paneling only went halfway up. Windows went the rest of the way up the walls. On the one wall without windows there was drab gray pinstripe wallpaper. Tacked to the wallpaper was a whiteboard and pull down white screen. The door was a glossy black. Charcoal carpet covered the floor. There was a long, rectangular, coffee brown Formica table with a dozen black and chrome chairs in the room. The room was soundproof. It was designed for functionality not comfort.
The producer guided the group to a heavy aluminum door. He reached for the handle, holding the door open for Dennis and the director, then, the producer entered the room. Dennis put his hands in his pockets and stood by a chair. Dennis kept glancing back and forth between the director and the producer. The director maintained a stoic facade.
The producer sense the nerves in the room. "Relax, gentlemen." He smiled. "Please, have a seat. Try to make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you some water or coffee?" He offered. When the others shook their heads, he pulled the door closed behind him. All three men sat down at the same time. "Gentlemen, we have a problem." The producer stated, ominously.
"W-what sort of problem?" The director stuttered.
"To be honest," The producer was frank. "The network is considering canceling the show."
"What!?" Dennis hung his head. Tears stung his eyes. "You can't do that!!" He squeaked. "The show is my job. It-Its my life! How will I work? How will I live? I've got no other skills."
Pony-tail guy raised a hand parallel to the table, palm down. "Calm down, Mr. Shelley." The producer soothed. "Would you like some water? I can have my assistant bring in a tray." The producer pulled out his phone, pressed the screen, and mumbled into it. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Tom answered it, inviting a young lady carrying a gray and chrome carafe along with some plastic cups. The assistant placed the items in the center of the conference table, then exited in a cold, efficient, manner.
The director grabbed three cups. He poured water into all three cups. He placed one water by Dennis's sunken head. Another water by the producer's chair. The director was satisfied to hold his water content in his lap without taking a sip.
"It's not so bad, Mr. Shelley." The producer soothed. "Drink your water."
Dennis roboticly obeyed, taking his cup. "I have a contract." He mumbled, looking like a lost child with tears in his eyes.
"That's right," the producer agreed, "a 5 year contract. If you like, we could set you up with some auditions or maybe some cameos on some of our other shows."
Dennis shook his head. "I want to be Captain D." He pouted.
"Uh..." The director spoke. "Is there a reason why the show is getting canceled?"
Tom nodded. "Yes. The show isn't making enough money in revenue. Also the writers are running out of ideas. It's only the near the end of the second season and we're coming close to a jump the shark moment."
"When's the last episode?" The director asked.
The producer turned to the director. "Our last episode will be shot in one month." The producer thought a moment, looking at Dennis. "The studio might do a Christmas special. I'd have to talk to them about it."
"What if I can find a way to make more money for the show?" Dennis suggested. "I'll do appearances. The studio can take a percentage."
"You'd have to redo your contract." The producer stated.
"Done." Dennis readily said. "I'll have my agent contact you."
"Fine." The producer smirked. "But what about the writers. And the stories. We still need new plots to keep the fans interested."
"I-" Dennis thought fast. "I could try writing an new episode."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were a writer."
"I'm not." Dennis admitted. "But I'm willing to do anything to save Captain D."
"Tell you what, Dennis," the producer made a duck face stroking his chin with a single finger, "if you can write a new and different episode for Captain D and do some appearances for fundraising on some of our other projects, I think I could talk the studio into doing maybe another season. We'll even make you an executive producer for all your trouble. What do you say?" The producer stood reaching across the table to offer Dennis his hand.
Dennis stood slowly, astonished. "I'll do it!" He shook the producer's hand.
The producer smoothed an imaginary smudge on his suit. "Have your agent arrange a meeting with my assistant." He left the boardroom.
"Don't you think you bit off a little more than you can chew?" The director asked.
"How hard could it be to write?" Dennis protested. "My sister-in-law is a writer. She just sits at the computer and taps away page after page of stuff. If she can do it, I certainly can."
The director face palmed. "I think there's a little more to writing than just sitting down at a computer."
"I bet you." Dennis challenged. "If I have a new episode written by this time tomorrow, you buy me lunch. If I don't have a new episode, I'll buy you lunch. And not some cheapo fuck it, either. Some place nice." Dennis offered his hand.
The director peeked at Dennis from between his fingers. Finally, he shrugged taking Dennis's hand. "Whatever, it's just lunch. You've got a deal." He groaned inward looking at Dennis's overconfident and stupid grin. Pulling his hand away the director glanced at the watch. "We should get back and finish shooting for the day." The director stood up. "Uh..." He paused. "I'll wait to tell the rest of the cast and crew about the cancellation until tomorrow. Give you time to put that story together." The director grinned.
"I'm telling you, it'll be easy." Dennis chirped. "I'll probably have it done by dinner."
The director walked over to the door holding it open for Dennis. "Sure, whatever you say." He rolled his eyes. "And don't forget to call your agent."
"Ah!" Dennis gasped, reaching in his pocket and passing through the door. "Thanks, for reminding me." Dennis dialed the number as he walked down the hall.
Bob shook his head and followed.
Later that evening, Dennis was sitting in front of his 85' TV. He was watching the latest episode of The Adventures of Captain D. He wanted to see if he could get some inspiration for a new episode. Dennis frowned at the TV. His character had stopped the third bank robbery that episode. "This is a bit redundant." Dennis said. The TV Captain D jumped through a window that wasn't there a moment ago. "And it's got continuity problems." He commented. "Wait a minute," Dennis leaned forward, confused. "I thought Puma Prime was the villain in this episode, not the Black Spot." Dennis sighed. "It's like not only did they the recycle plot lines, they cut up several episodes and edited them all together to make a mish mash of complete and total what the fuck. This doesn't make any sense." Dennis shook his head. "These are all things I can fix in my story." He grinned to himself.
At the end of the episode, he grabbed his remote turning the TV off. He stood up from his recliner stretching. "Yeee ahhh!" He moaned. "That's enough dithering. Time to work." Dennis went over to a TV tray, where his laptop sat. Sitting in a folding lawn chair, Dennis flipped his laptop open. He cracked his knuckles. Pressed the button to turn the computer on. Dennis lit a cigarette and smoked while waiting for Windows to load. Puff Puff. Dennis started drumming his fingers on the tray. Puff Puff Tap. "Finally!" Dennis exclaimed. He opened a word document and sat. Puff Puff Tap Sat. No ideas coming to mind. He shifted in his chair.
Dennis jumped noticing his ash was getting pretty long. He put a hand under his cigarette, standing, he ran to go fetch an ashtray. He knocked the ash off into the ashtray. Setting the cigarette in the ashtray, Dennis brushed his hands off over the trash can. Then, Dennis picked up the cigarette and ashtray. He returned to his computer carrying his ashtray. He set the ashtray next to the computer.
Dennis stared at the blank page for a few minutes. He smoked another cigarette. His brow furrowed. He sighed heavily. Dennis moved his mouse across the screen. He opened a game of freecell. Dennis played one game, hoping the game would inspire him. He turned back to the blank page. He stared at the monitor drawing a blank. Dennis leaned in looking close at the screen. There were smudges and fingerprints all over the thing. He made a face. Dennis got up to get some cleaning cloths. He wiped the entire screen. Setting the cloths aside, Dennis stared at the screen half admiring his cleaning half trying to come up with an idea for something new.
"I have to at least come up with a title for the damn thing." Dennis put his fingers to the keyboard. "Hmmm...." He thought, his fingers tapped a random sentence. "The adventures of Mayim Bialik." Dennis read back. "That's stupid." He fingers paused over the keyboard. "Not a bad thought, though. Heh." He wiped some drool away on his sleeve, then pressed the back space key erasing the sentence. Dennis stared out the window. "D squad." Dennis tapped on the keyboard. Dennis reread the sentence. He nodded. "That's not bad." He lit another cigarette. "Time for a break." He pushed the computer away and grabbed the remote. Dennis turned on the TV. He sat watching for a few hours.
A sudden knock on the door nearly launched Dennis onto the ceiling. Grunting he got up from his chair. Walking over to the door, Dennis looked out the peephole. Harry and Carmen waited in the hall with a bag and bucket. Dennis could smell hot buttered corn on the cob and gravy through the door.
Dennis opened the door. "Hi... guys." He rubbed his eyes. Dennis moved aside to allow his brother and his wife to enter the apartment.
"Hey, Captain Dither." Carmen chirped. "What's up?"
"Hey." Dennis rubbed the back of his head. He stared longingly at his computer. "Come on in. Have a seat."
Carmen carried the bag and bucket into the kitchen. Dennis could hear her banging around cabinets and drawers, searching for stuff in an unfamiliar kitchen. Carmen returned with pieces of fried chicken, corn, and baked beans on two plates. She set one plate on a tall stool, that doubled as a small table, and the other on the TV tray next to Dennis's computer. Then, Carmen returned to the kitchen to collect her own plate. She had chosen chicken nuggets and a small dish of gravy. In lieu of traditional dipping sauce, Carmen liked dipping nuggets into the gravy and eating them that way. Carmen set her food on the stool, set up another folding chair. Carmen sat down Indian style, folding her legs under her, in the chair. Leaning forward, Carmen picked up her food, and placed it in her lap. She ate quietly, watching and listening to the brothers as they conversed and interacted.
Harry entered the apartment handing Dennis a stack of CDs. Dennis looked at the disks in his hand. He pulled one disk aside. "Is this the concert footage from the show in Phoenix?" Dennis asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied. "There's also that whale movie you wanted to see."Harry sat in the recliner. "Keep the concert DVD."
"Thanks." Dennis nodded to himself, walking over to his TV and DVD player. He turned the DVD player on and pressed a button on his TV turning it to the DVD channel. Dennis pressed another button on the DVD player opening the disk tray. Dennis placed a Disk in the tray and pushed the tray into the machine. Dennis picked up the remote and returned to the chair in front of his computer. "I put in the concert DVD. I just want to see a few minutes of Paul, then we'll watch the whale movie."
"OHMF!" Carmen cried, putting her plate back on the stool. She got up and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with two glasses of diet soda. One with ice and one without. She placed the glasses by Harry and Dennis, then, went to retrieve her own glass. She put the glass by her food, seated herself, as before, grabbed her plate and resumed eating.
Harry and Dennis chatted. Harry shared some Beatles trivia with Dennis. Dennis listened and watched Paul in amazement. Dennis was impressed that a man in his 70s could still move, perform, and get around the way Paul did. "Oooo!" Dennis turned up the volume on the TV. "I love this song." Dennis let the Concert play all the way through. Then he put in the whale movie. The whale movie was a documentary about whales and dolphins in the antarctic. Dennis loved independent and nature films. They helped him relax.
"So what have you been up to?" Harry asked, as Dennis stared at the whales.
"Huh?" Dennis started out of his reverie. "Oh! I'm writing a Captain D story."
"Captain D story?" Carmen wondered.
"Yeah." Dennis blushed. "They're considering canceling Captain D. But if I come up with some new story and show up for a few events the studio is planning. They might save the show."
"Can I see the story?" Carmen asked putting her empty plate aside and unfolding her legs.
"Uh," Dennis admitted. "I haven't got much done, really. Had some trouble getting started."
"Still. Do you mind if I take a look at what you've got so far?" Carmen was on the edge of her seat. Dennis sighed turning his computer to her. Carmen got up from her chair and moved closer for a better look. She frowned. "A title is better than nothing. I've kind of written a Captain D story of my own."
"You what?" Dennis was dumbfounded.
"It's not that good." Carmen admitted. "Just some silly fanfiction."
"I want to see it." Dennis prodded.
"Its a little campy." Carmen hesitated.
"I don't care!" Dennis reassured her. "JUST SHOW IT TO ME ALREADY!"
"Uh," Carmen fidgeted. "I don't have my flash drive with me."
Dennis thought fast. "Can you bring the flash drive by the studio, tomorrow morning? I'll bring my computer and I'll read the story. Plus, I've been promising you and Harry a tour of the set, anyway. What do you say? Is it a deal?" Dennis smiled.
"Ok." Carmen agreed. She looked at Harry. "But not too early, you know I'm not a morning person."
"Fine, fine." Dennis cheered, inwardly. "I'll tell the guard at the gate to expect you and let you through."
Carmen sat back in her chair. She turned her face to the screen. The family watched the rest of the movie together as a unit.
"Morning, Dennis." The director called as he saw Dennis walk into the staging area. Dennis was carrying a rectangular satchel slung over his shoulder. "Do you have that story for me, yet?"
Dennis sighed. "No, but I talked to my sister-in-law ans she's got something." Dennis put his laptop in his chair. "So its coming coming." Dennis saw that the other actors were already on set.
"If you say so." The director rolled his eyes. A beep from the director's walkee-talkee drew his attention. The director picked up the handset and looked at a caller ID screen located on the back of the device. The director's brow furrowed in confusion. He pressed a button on the side and mumbled something into it. "Dennis, the front gate says that they have your brother and sister-in-law."
"Oh right!" Dennis started. "I forgot to tell the guard." Dennis looked at the director. "Its OK Bob. I invited them. I promised to give them a tour of the set and studio. If its cool, do you mind if they watch the filming. Carmen might as well be wallpaper for how quiet she is. And Harry will make fun of it, but he'll wait until between takes to say anything."
"Yeah, yeah." The director waved Dennis off. He mumbled something into the mic. Putting the walkee-talkee down, the director snarled at Dennis. "Take your place!" Dennis jumped and went on set to take his place. To the rest of the cast, the director said. "Ok, people, take your places. We're going to do a brief run through then turn the cameras on and do it all, again, for the audience at home. This is so you folks can get a feel for the scene." There was a murmur as all the other actors got themselves into position. The director went by the cameras going up on tiptoes, bending, kneeling, with his hands in front of his face in the form of a square. He was trying to get an idea for the camera angles. Satisfied, the director went over to his chair to have a seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the studio door open.
The producer entered the studio. He paused holding the door open for someone behind him. A short lady and long haired gentleman with glasses followed the producer. They could only be Dennis's brother and sister-in-law. She wore a lime green flash drive on a pink yarn chain. The woman smiled and nodded her thanks to the producer. The producer strode confidently into the studio.
The lady took a few hesitant steps into the studio, then turned, and looked at her husband. She didn't move again until her husband was beside her. Carmen let Harry get in front of her and she followed him, peeking around him, sometimes to get a better look. When Carmen and Harry got close enough to the set; and she recognized Dennis, she smiled. She'd opened her mouth to say something, but Harry stopped her. She looked around at all the camera and nodded in silent agreement to Harry. The two stood by, quietly, watching the action on set.
The director smiled and stood up from his chair. He waved to Carmen to get her attention. Then he pointed to his chair. She smiled and shook her head, hiding behind Harry. The director shrugged, turning his attention back to the stage. "Alright, people, go."
"You'll never get away, Puma Prime." Captain D warned. "I will capture you."
Puma Prime snapped the whip in her hand causing a loud crack. "I'd like to see you try, Captain Dunderhead." Puma Prime purred.
Captain D pulled a smoke pellet from his utility belt and threw it at Puma Prime. Smoke filled the room completely obscuring everyone's vision. In a panic, Puma Prime cracked her whip hoping to hit Captain D. Captain D caught the end of the whip, pulled it, and used it to tie up an off balance Puma Prime.
"Scene!" The director called, pleased, as fans were started up to blow away the water vapor that served as the fake smoke. "That was good everyone. Wait a minute for the fans to clear the fog and then we'll put it on film." The director paused, glancing at Carmen and Harry. "Oh and Dennis your brother and sister-in law are here." The producer pulled the director aside for a chat.
"Thanks, Bob." Dennis trotted over to greet Carmen and Harry. "Hey guys, what'd you think of the scene?"
"I'm already impressed. I think they've done the impossible." Harry commented. "They made my brother look cool"
"Ha, Ha." Dennis smirked.
Carmen held up her flash drive. "I got the story, Dennis." She smiled.
The producer pricked up his ears. "Story?"
Carmen blushed and cringed. "Yeah, I wrote a little fanfiction about Captain D." Carmen mumbled. "It's not very good, but Dennis said he wanted to read it, anyway."
"Dennis never told us that he had a writer in his family." The director smiled to reassure her. "Do you mind if Tom and I also read your story?"
"I'm just Dennis's sister-in-law." Pulling the yarn chain over her head, Carmen took the flash drive from around her neck. "The story's on here, it's called 'Dr. Sarcasmo."
The director accepted the flash drive with a chuckle. "How did you come up with the idea for something like that?"
Carmen shrugged. "I don't know. My husband is pretty sarcastic. And My brother-in-law dithers. I call him Captain Dither."
The producer joined the director in a laugh. "Do you always draw on inspiration from your family."
"Why not?" Carmen said. "Like they say, it's best to write from what you know."
The director and Producer beamed at the little lady. "Is there a computer or something around so we can read this?" Tom asked.
Dennis picked up his laptop. "I've got one here." Dennis waved his case. Dennis walked over to a card table and bent to turn the computer on. He signed in and opened word. Then Dennis held his hand out for the flash drive.
The director passed the flash drive over to Dennis. Dennis put the flash drive in his computer. He accessed the flash drive, scrolling through the documents until he came to the one he wanted. "This is it." He announced.
"Well don't leave us in suspense." Tom prodded. "Read the story."
Dennis was quiet for a few minutes staring at his computer screen.
"Aloud, Dumbass." The director chided
"Just scanning the first page." Dennis cleared his throat. "Captain D..." Dennis read the story. Dennis started snickering. The story gave Dennis a giddy feeling. At one point, Dennis let out a huge guffaw, screwing up reading the words on the page. He wasn't the only one laughing. The director and the producer were also laughing. Dennis came to the end of the story. It was completely unlike anything that the show had put out already. Dennis pulled the flash drive from his computer, handing it back to Carmen. When he looked at the producer and director, he saw that they had doubled over.
The director was wiping tears away with a huge grin on his face. The producer was on his knees, his arms wrapped around his waist. Both were in hysterics.
The producer stood up gasping for breath. "That was great. Miss-"
"Carmen." Carmen introduced herself. "Carmen Ella."
"Miss Ella-" The producer started again.
"Mrs." Carmen jerked a thumb towards Harry and flashed her wedding ring. "I'm married."
"Of course." The producer smiled. "Mrs. Ella. I was telling Dennis yesterday, that the writing staff had gotten bored and predictable with the story lines. And that we needed something fresh to enliven the series. Do you think we could use this story?"
"Sure." Carmen agreed. "Also..."
"What?" The producer asked.
"Well the show's got a few continuity errors." Carmen mentioned. "Like in an airing, at the start of an episode Captain D would be fighting the Derby Decker and then all of a sudden he's fighting the Tangler. Also some of the escapes make no sense. Like Captain D would jump out a window that just magically appeared."
The producer nodded, agreeing. "The show has it's problems. The trouble is we don't have the money to fix them. Plus we need newer and better writers and stories."
Carmen bit her lip. "Uh..."
"Yes." The producer received her.
"For the money issue," Carmen began, "Why not toys? Plushies and stuff. Or putting out DVDs. Like do one episode per DVD and put them out that way and putting whole seasons on DVD and putting the outtakes on DVD and selling those."
The producer nodded. "Those are awesome ideas. Do you have time to talk today? I would love to discus this more. Maybe in my office. Maybe draw up a contract for our new writer. Unless you don't think you can come up with any more stories like the one we just read."
Carmen gulped. "Sure. But Harry comes along too." She pointed to her husband.
"Of course." The producer offered his hand to Harry. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Ella."
"Actually," Harry shook hands with the producer. "It's Mr. Oatmeal. Carmen uses Ella as a pseudonym just for writing."
"Mr. Oatmeal." The producer tested the name. He smiled. "If the two of you will follow me." The producer made a flourish as he bowed, indicating the way.
"What about our tour of the studio?" Carmen asked. "Dennis said he was going to show us around."
"Dennis is going to be busy filming." The director interjected. Dennis slumped.
"In that case," The producer looked from between the husband and wife duo and the Director and actor team and back, again. "I'll escort you and give you the tour."
Carmen smiled. "That sounds lovely." She led the way out of the studio, followed by Harry and the producer.
After the tour, the producer led Carmen and Harry back to his office. The office was a palace. On one wall there was a bank of floor to ceiling. Along one wall were low shelves filled with awards on the other side were file cabinets filled with scripts and screenplays. The rest of the walls were lined with university diplomas and signed pictures of famous actors and actresses that have appeared in the producer's productions. In the center of the room was a desk about the size of a small country and intricately carved. There were pictures of family, some papers, and a couple of pens on top of the desk. In front of the desk was two heavy oak chairs. Behind the desk there sat a green leather chair with gold rivets on an oak swivel base.
The producer waved to the heavy chairs. "Please be seated." He invited. "Can I get you some refreshment? Coffee? Tea?" The producer seated himself in the green and leather chair.
Carmen and Harry sat down. "Uh, nothing for me, thank you." Carmen looked at Harry. "But Harry might like some coffee." To Harry. "Honeybear, do you want some coffee?"
Harry nodded. "Sure."
The producer smiled, pulling out his phone. He mumbled into the phone and within a few minutes the young lady from before entered carrying a pot of coffee, some styrofoam cups, and some cream and sugar packets. She set the tray down then exited in a cool and efficient manner, closing the door behind you.
Harry took a cup and started pouring and fixing his coffee. The producer leaned forward, his eyes on Carmen. "Now, Mrs. Oatmeal. About your ideas and your stories. The studio would be more than happy to sign to a contract of say 20 stories. That is," he paused, "If you can produce more stories like the one we just read."
"Um," Carmen looked down and fidgeted. "I can do it. Just it has to be on my own schedule. I can't be rushed or pushed into something or I'll get flustered and completely lose my creative writing spark." She glanced up. "You know."
"I understand." The producer assured her. "We'd pay you well for your time."
"I don't need a huge salary or anything." Carmen thought out loud. "Something basic would be fine. I'd be doing this more or less for Dennis anyway."
"Of course." The Producer soothed. "Now as for those money making ideas. You know, we already do license a toy company that puts out action figures, right?"
Carmen nodded. "Yes, sir. I know. But those action figures are marketed and sold strictly for boys interests. I mean," Carmen bit her lower lip. "When I was a little girl I was into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. But there were never any toys that were never marketed to me or," Carmen's eyes rolled up as if she were searching for the word. "My demographic. TMNT toys were all trucks and action figures and nothing really appealing to girls. I had a few Barbie dolls, but only because they were from relatives that sent them to be nice on some random birthday or holiday that they bothered to remember. But I didn't really play with Barbie. Maybe..." Carmen brought her gaze back to the Producer. "Maybe you could get Mattel to make a line of Barbie-like Captain D dolls and play sets that girls might like to play with. You'd be tapping a whole new market and the revenue can only go up. Or a plush Captain D doll that girls would adore!"
"You make a good point." The producer had listened to Carmen's story, stroking his bare chin. "We do get emails from parents of female viewers that love the show but want toys of their own to play with." He nodded. "Ok, we'll do it. And I want you to be be on the R and D team to design and create these Captain D toys for girls."
"But I can't draw." Carmen protested.
"Doesn't matter." The producer reassured her. "You can have first look at the toys, play with them and see which ones you like."
"That sounds fine." Carmen agreed. "Have you thought about video games? I'd be happy to test and work with some of that, too."
"One step at a time, young lady." The producer chuckled. "We'll get there. With one story, you've breathed some life back into a franchise that was about to die. I'm going to see about getting Captain D picked up for another three seasons. Maybe a fourth, but we'll see when we come to it." The producer stood offering his hand. "I look forward to working with you both."
"Both?" Carmen asked, shaking the producer's hand.
"Yes," The producer's eyes twinkled. "You said you like to play with and model characters after your friends and family. So, I assumed that the role of Dr. Sarcasmo was inspired after your husband. So, I assumed that it would only be fitting that he play the wheelchair bound Dr. Villain."
"Yes." Carmen giggled at the thought.
"By the way, Mrs. Oatmeal," The producer asked. "I have to know. What possessed you to write characters based on your friends and family?"
"I don't know." Carmen got an evil gleam in her eye. "I guess something about holding the lives of my friends and family in my hands and making them dance for my amusement, appeals to me."
Harry muttered something unintelligible and everyone in the room laughed.