Um... Did Somebody Tell Him?
(CUTTO: The bathroom in Joey Meltonís locker room. Melton barely visible through the steam has his face a foot from the mirror admiring the extension heís offered to his pores. Skin care has itís own rewards, more immediate and lasting than a title run. What Meltonís done for himself has a longer shelf life than a five-star match on a prebooked Cruise. If only the gold plated World title he was given as a lifetime achievement award back in the summer boasted as immaculate of an appearance as the skin on Meltonís face. Maybe then, heíd show it more love than a set of car keys. Where was the last place he saw the title?)
MELTON: Adrian...we might have a problem.
LITTLE VOLTRON: Itís Hollywood, Joey. They could give a damn about the collective geek opinion. Jessica Alba sells. End of story.
(Joey exhaustedly bows his head then steps out of the bathroom, moist, and wearing a Hyatt Hotel towel around his waist.)
MELTON: Sheís barely twenty! A woman who looks all of eighteen shouldnít be portraying Sue Storm on the silver screen. You know this Adrian.
LITTLE VOLTRON: Remember your viewing of ďWillowĒ last week? Sure you do. Iím still listening to you b*tch about the special effects. What would you rather have, Melton...a twenty-million budgeted appropriately cast Fantastic Four movie, or one hundred and fifty million with some semblance of a safety net by the studio to rake some of that cash back in?
MELTON Well, the opportunistic 150 of course, but what? Renee Zegweller said no? You know she didnít. They didnít ask, Adrian. God forbid we have a good-looking woman in her thirties play a role thatís not self-depreciating, and is mass released.
(The door to Meltonís locker room opens, and two men step through.)
MELTON: If you canít cast the parts honorably, why should I acknowledge the project with any ounce of hope, or anticipation?
BENEDICT: Defiance at itís best. Charming Melton.
(Melton and Evans turn their attention to the two men, Mickey Benedict and Timmy Windham, standing just inside their doorway.)
MELTON: The ghost of Christmas past. Thought you were just a rumor.
BENEDICT: A surprise Iím sure. Brevity here is the salvation of us all. Youíre being bumped Melton.
MELTON: Iím sorry?
BENEDICT: Paulís the Main Event now. Youíre on in ten minutes.
MELTON: What the heck are you talking about Grim? Iím on in forty-five minutes. Itís on the marquee, you ass. Saw it Iím sure as you crawled in here.
(Timmy takes a switchblade out of his jeans pocket and carelessly flips the blade in and out.)
MELTON: You going to cut me? Get this clown out of here, Benedict. Before he hurts himself.
BENEDICT: Melton, the thread youíre hanging on to can be lessened anytime. Bear that in mind.
MELTON: Kiss my butt, and the midgetís too.
LITTLE VOLTRON: Please, baby.
MELTON: Iím Joey Melton! I made this place! Brick by brick...
BENEDICT: This isnít a promo, you idiot. Itís a business meeting. And the message is: youíre not important to anyone around here but yourself anymore. (looks at watch) Eight minutes.
(Benedict leaves as Timmy follows behind him, knifing the door as he exits.)
MELTON: Freaks. Whatever happened to this place keeping a sense of normalcy? Evans answer me that...
LITTLE VOLTRON: Gone to the dogs.... (shakes head) Alright, Iím off to get in costume.
MELTON: Adrian, youíre not going with me tonight...
LITTLE VOLTRON: I know....
MELTON: Geez. I gotta get a real job. (beat) Bumped. Freakiní Hornet. Screwed on the first shows and now the end. (sighs)