The Main Character Gets Rejected

"Isabella, there's been a script rewrite." Skippy the producer eased into the conversation, gauging Isabella's reaction. He wanted to break the news gently so she wouldn't freak out and walk off the set. They had a lot of work to do today to keep production within budget.

"Well, that explains why you discreetly called me into your office and closed the door." Isabella was already getting defensive and she wasn't the most genial actress in the business in the first place. Over the years she'd felt entitled to play the main character, on and off stage. "What's the bad news? Am I getting the guy and teaching the mean girls that nice girls finish first or what?"

"Well, the mean girls still are being taught a lesson, but we're adding a surprise twist at the end." Skippy hesitated fearing how Isabella would take the news. Meanwhile, Isabella looked at him with uneasy anticipation.

"Kind of like what you're doing right now?" Isabella asked impatiently, "The movie is a comedy, so is it a funny twist?"

"We hope so," Skippy explained. "Your character will think she's getting the guy, but he rejects her for her brother."

"What! Now he's gay?" Isabella asked in anger, "What baboon thought a gay werewolf was a good idea?"

"I did, Isabella," Skippy tried to ignore being called a baboon. "I thought it would be funnier to have all these girls competing for the attention of the same guy only to find out he's a gay werewolf. Don't you think that's clever?"

"No," Isabella disagreed, "I think it's dumb and will be a big yawn and won't sell any popcorn, or tickets for that matter. No one will nominate it for an academy award. Who would vote for it? Not me." She began pacing the office and Skippy was afraid she would walk out and keep going without finishing the film.

"No, no," Skippy was desperately reaching for something to convince her to accept the change in the story. "You'll have a great opportunity to show multiple layered emotions when you find out the truth."

"That is tempting, "Isabella considered Skippy's words, "but I always play a winner. You're making the main character (played by me) a loser. I'm supposed to win the guy."

"But since he's a gay werewolf," Skippy offered, "it's not possible for you to win him; therefore, you didn't lose what you could never have."

"Hmmm," Isabella considered this angle. "I suppose I see the humor in it when you put it that way."

Skippy smiled hopefully, "I knew you'd understand."

"But, Skippy, dear," Skippy knew a demand or at least a counter offer was about to fly out of Isabella's arrogant mouth when she called him 'Skippy, dear.' "You know what rhymes with gay?"

"Stay?" Skippy asked hoping that Isabella would indeed stay and not ruin his day by walking away.

"That too," Isabella smiled smuggly knowing that Skippy needed her to go along with the rewrite, "but I was thinking more along the lines of 'pay.'"

Skippy moaned in defeat, "How do you mean, Isabella. Your contract already has a set amount of money and it's a huge sum."

"If you insist on treating my character like a loser hag, I'll need some compensation and I need it now."

"OK," Skippy asked, "just what kind of compensation?"

"I want you to get someone to shampoo the wine stains out of the carpet in my trailer today. It looks like someone was murdered in there."

"Is that all?" Skippy seemed skeptical that she would let him off the hook that easily. He would have done that for her under normal cirumstances and she knew it.

"While the carpet is being cleaned, I'll need you to set me up in a luxury suite with a stocked wine cooler and a really cute limo driver to drive me to the set."

Skippy sighed as his budget flew out the window like a bat on the wind, "Consider it done."

Tumultuous Soulmates on Opposing Sides of a Conflict

"Cover that tattoo!" Linda threw a long sleeved shirt at her boyfriend, Steve, "I hate it! You know I hate mermaids ever since you dated that mermaid stripper!"

"Listen, babe," Steve tried to stay calm and reasonable, "it has nothing to do with her. How many times do I have to tell you? I like the way she wiggles her tail when I flex my bicep."

"I bet you do!" Linda scrounged through her purse until she found a match to light her cigarette, "you don't care about me at all or you would have realized that tattoo would be a bad idea."

"Now you're gonna start smoking again?" Steve watched her take a long drag of her cigarette, "you were doing so good."

"Oh," she blew smoke toward the ceiling, "well, you can blame yourself for my failure, too. I need something to take the edge off."

"Well, why don't you call the apothecary and get yourself a magic mushroom then?" Steve was losing his patience, "it'd be healthier than smoking. Probably cheaper too."

"Oh," Linda guffawed, "now you care about my health?"

"Sure, I do," Steve said, "don't I always take care of you?"

"Yeah, you drove me to the clinic when you gave my syphilis that time. You probably got that from the mermaid stripper."

"I didn't just drive you," Steve said, "I paid the bill too. You're being unreasonable. It's just a tattoo!"

"Just a tattoo!" Linda stubbed out her cigarette in the kitchen sink, "those things are permanent."

"I could have it removed if I wanted to, but I don't." He moved his arm toward Linda and started flexing his bicep, making the mermaid move her tail. "Isn't it funny?" Steve chuckled.

"No!" Linda screamed, "don't you listen to me at all?"

"It's just a joke!" Steve yelled, "stop going into a frenzy. It's not ladylike at all!"

"Ladylike!" Linda yelled back, "is wagging my tail like a mermaid on a stripper pole ladylike? Maybe I should do that instead?" Linda did an exaggerated hip shake to demonstrate.

"I oughta' oust your ass right out the door!" Steve threatened, "I'm tired of you always giving me a hard time."

"Oh, yeah, go ahead," Linda challenged, "you'll beg me to come back like every other time."

Steve opened his mouth to yell something, but realized she was right and changed his mind as he lowered himself onto the couch in defeat, "You're right," he admitted, "I only want you, not that mermaid chick."

Linda wiped a tear from her eye.

"I won't make you look at my arm," Steve relented, "I'll even wear the long sleeves when you're around."

"Aw," Linda smiled and sat on his lap, "even in the summer?"

"Don't push it," Steve chuckled, "I don't want to feel like I'm a prisoner in this relationship. You wouldn't want that would you?"

"No, babe," Linda put her head on his chest, "not like that time I made you wear that bowtie when we had sex."

"That was weird," he chuckled, "I almost couldn't get the old sprocket to rise with that thing on."

"Well, silly," Linda laughed, "you were supposed to tie it around your neck!"