An office
Hollywood, California
Late afternoon, Summer 1982
Hollywood, California
Late afternoon, Summer 1982
The heat seemed to smother everything. L.A. was always the very pit of Hell, but this summer seemed to be personally out to get them in particular. The fans were broken (again) and the super was too busy screwing the tenant in 3B to bother fixing things. Even the paper in their typewriters threatened to wilt and tear in the muggy confines of their shared apartment office. Not for the first time, the man wiped his brow while the woman ruffled her blouse, seeking to circulate at least
"Ding!" Another useless line in a doomed paragraph on a pointless page of a worthless script. The company had them working on
"Have you seen the competition this year? Another alien movie from that hack Spielberg. As if the market hadn't had enough of that."
"Yeah. And another Star Trek movie, too. Trek, Wars, who gives a shit? It's all fancy special effects, no heart, no soul."
"Pfft. They made a
The woman reached into a desk drawer nearby while taking a swig of her soda, and pulled out their hobby project. "Think there's room in the market for a story like this?"
"Hell, Ether," the man said, "If they'll buy into a kid on a bike with a puppet alien, they'll buy anything."
"I hope you're right, RadiantCowbells," she replied, "I don't think I could stand another summer in this hellhole."
some
of the stagnant, fetid air."Ding!" Another useless line in a doomed paragraph on a pointless page of a worthless script. The company had them working on
commercials
of all things. That wouldn't last. They were almost done with their side project, a screenplay to shop around to the big studios, maybe to get their big break, as if that would happen, in this life or the next. The woman glanced up and sighed heavily. "Let's take a break." The man nodded his agreement, and they stood in unison, stretching cramped muscles. They retreated to the kitchen window, the only breeze they got in this forsaken "office." He retrieved two Pepsis from the little fridge, relishing their coolness for a moment before she popped the tops and took hers to rest against her forehead."Have you seen the competition this year? Another alien movie from that hack Spielberg. As if the market hadn't had enough of that."
"Yeah. And another Star Trek movie, too. Trek, Wars, who gives a shit? It's all fancy special effects, no heart, no soul."
"Pfft. They made a
third
Rocky movie. The first one was good, and the second was alright I guess, but that franchise has got to be on its last legs."The woman reached into a desk drawer nearby while taking a swig of her soda, and pulled out their hobby project. "Think there's room in the market for a story like this?"
"Hell, Ether," the man said, "If they'll buy into a kid on a bike with a puppet alien, they'll buy anything."
"I hope you're right, RadiantCowbells," she replied, "I don't think I could stand another summer in this hellhole."
