‘I am a trained Shakespearean actor,’ Justin Meadows declaimed with pomposity, waving a typed filmscript in the face of his agent. ‘And you expect me to perform in this bilge. I should be playing Romeo; Hamlet.’
‘To be the star of it,’ Joe Cohen purred, hoping the significance of the role would persuade the twenty-five-year-old.
Justin thumbed through the script trying to find a page and failing he threw it on the agent’s desk.
‘Here’s the plot: four friends about to leave high school have a bet on losing their virginity by Prom night.’
‘It’s a teen fantasy,’ Cohen waved an unlit cigar.
Justin made an exaggerated face and continued, ‘One boy tricks another into taking laxatives and for reasons that defy credulity they end up in the girls’ bathroom where his bottom explodes and shit is streamed over the walls.’
‘It’s a comedy,’ Cohen searched his pockets for a match.
Justin’s 6ft. 4ins. frame towered over his diminutive agent. ‘I hesitate to go on, but we don’t want to miss the best part.’ Justin threw his lighter at his agent. ‘My character believing he can simulate the pleasure of love-making puts his dick in a warm apple pie.’
Cohen sucked on his cigar and scribbled on a notepad. ‘Take a look. That’s what they’ll pay. They think it’s a smash and want to option you for four movies.’
Justin snatched the pad, peered at it disdainfully and then struggling to stop his voice breaking, croaked, ‘Where do I sign?’
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 