=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= - P.I.S.S. Philez Number 42 = = - - The Waste of the Day = = - - by Sameer Ketkar = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= (Rated R: For Language) [But we dont care] You know, it really wasn't a very hard part to fill. It shouldn't have been, at least, but I was soon to find out differently. The first "actor" that they brought before us was probably the best of the lot—not a very tall order to fill—and I kicked myself later for not taking him immediately. He was a big blond fool… "Please step up to the microphone, Mr…uh…Goody," I said. "Sure, dude, ya want me to…uh…like move around a lot…or like just read?" "Do it however you like, but remember, we've only got a stationary mike. Remember, too, you're on camera so don't turn your back to us: there is no boom mike choreographed yet." "Cool, man." " 'The Waste of the Day,' butler, audition one, action!" I yelled into the bullhorn. So it started. "He-llo," the dolt enunciated every syllable, "ma'am. I am to be…like your butler. My name is Giles…Wait—Mr. Director, is that pronounced like with a 'J' or with a 'G'?" "It's pronounced like 'Jiles'" I rolled my eyes. "'K. My name is Giles." "Hi, Giles," the female lead said. "You know what your duties are to be?" "Like, sure. I clean, and answer the door, and I tend to the maids." "Very good," I said, "now move forward to page twenty-nine, to the murder scene." "Ok. Like," he smiled. "Did the butler do it?" He started laughing at his own joke for a few moments. Then, seeing that no one else was laughing, he looked down at his script, frowning. "Oh my Gosh, ma'am, what happened?" "It's my husband," she sniffled, "he's been…murdered!" She put a hand to her forehead, palm out, and started sobbing. "Don't worry, ma'am, e-verything will be all right. They don't, like, suspect you do they—" "Try not to say 'like'" I said. "They don't suspect a chick like you"—I slapped my forehead—"do they? You're too a-ttrac-tive and buxom and kind to all men besides your husband to, like, kill a man." "That's what I tried to convince the police," she smiled devilishly. "But that damn sergeant was gay! My good friend Mark is coming by to…comfort me…and help straighten out the situation—" "That's enough!" I took a deep breath, gave a few kind but meaningless words to the surfer-boy, and sent him on his way. When I let the big blond surfer go, I pondered erasing his audition and recording over it—what a waste of tape! Nah, I thought, I might as well keep it for laughs. For the sake of my sanity, I had each actor read different scenes with the female lead. They had to get to know each other well, because they were to have an affair later on. I knew that letting them do different scenes would—should have—made it harder to pick a good butler, but what the hell, my sanity is a precious thing. The next butler was a huge curly haired white guy with a large bushy moustache and a nervous twitch. He stood well over six and a half feet, and looked like he was going to eat me. He appeared to be quite capable of senseless violence and I thought that maybe I could use him as the killer if it didn't work out well for the butler. I could just imagine him killing the husband with a windshield wiper stolen from his car…stabbing him to death with it, beating on his furniture with his bare hands. "Mr. Bursley, please try not to look at the camera. 'The Waste of the Day,' butler, audition two, action!" Right before he spoke, I winced despite myself, and expected a great booming. After a few seconds, I looked up—I didn't even know that I was ducking—and saw Bursley talking to the female lead in a very hushed and feminine sounding voice. Another Mike Tyson? I thought. He whispered: "Mark's here, ma'am, and he has flowers. I think he likes you…but isn't it a bit early, since your husband just died and all?" The female lead glared at him, then looked to me with a helpless expression. "Mr. Bursley, I know you have it in you to ki—I mean, to speak up. Please, we need to get rolling. 'The Waste of the Day,' butler, audition two, take two and action!" He looked at me, and the soft spot under his left eye began twitching, then his left lip started twitching in tandem with the eye. He nodded assent, and turned back to his script, almost scared. He started reading again, and I sighed a sigh of relief; expecting him to read it properly this time. But no, he didn't. He started reading all right, I could see his lips moving, but it was like no sound was coming out of them. Rolling my eyes, I yelled: "Mr Bursley! Can you please speak up!" He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, seemingly pleading with me not to dismiss him yet. I glared at him without compassion. Suddenly, his whole head started twitching, and then he collapsed to the ground in convulsions. "Security!" I called. They ended up taking the poor giant away, writhing in a straitjacket, screaming my name at the top of his lungs. So he can speak up, I thought. Psycho! The next actor scared me. I mean, I am a pretty big fellow, and the giant frightened me a bit, but this guy was short and lithe, with short-cropped black hair and a Latino look to him. I wondered if he was wearing gang colors…West side? Woodlands? Palisades? UC? "Mr uh Lim." Now I was really confused. This guy should have been a Rodriguez, or a Aragones, anything but a Lim. He didn't have a single erythrocyte of Chinese blood in him. "Mr. Lim, please read from Act 2, Scene 4." "Fine then, bitch, maybe I will!" "Please do so then" I rolled my eyes at this ultimate "tough guy." "You rolling your eyes at me, mister?" he asked me. "I don't like that condescending look you is givin' me, no, I don't like it at all!" "No, of course not. I am just not having the best day. 'The Waste of the Day,' butler, audition three, action!" He looked at me with pure malice, then turned to the script. "Ma'am," he began, "I think I can help you clean up here." "You are not to tell a word of this to anyone, especially the police," the female lead said. "If you do it properly, I'll give you a little…side bonus if you know what I mean." She looked at him and let her dress strap fall off one shoulder. She squinted her eyes in his direction, and gave a seductive smile. She licked her lips and put one finger in her mouth. "Right," Lim said, not seeing to notice, "It's too bad, Matt was a nice guy" "That's Mark," I cut in, "Not 'Matt'." "It's too bad, Mark was a nice guy and had a good head on his shoulders until you cut it off!" His face began turning red. "What are you talking about, Mr. Lim? That's not in the script. Please follow the script." I looked up at the ceiling, rubbing my left eye with my left hand. "Yes, Mark was a good friend," the female lead said, trying to smooth the situation. "You were close?" he asked, glaring at her. "Yeah, we were close friends" "You fucked him didn't you?" he screamed. "You double-timing little whore! You ignorant slut, you bitch. Your husband loved you. But you killed him to be with Mark, then you killed Mark too! You killed your husband, a nice director, and your boyfriend, a freaking florist, and now you're trying to seduce me and kill me too!" "Mr. Lim!" I yelled. "Please settle down, that's not in the script. This is a movie, not real life. You're supposed to" "But she fucked him! Didn't she?" "Yes, but" He cut me off again. Suddenly, he turned around and slapped the female lead in the face, screaming, "Bitch!" She whimpered to the floor. He stood above her and raised his hand to strike again, then said, "What about your marriage vows? You're trying to kill me now too! Aren't you?" "Security!" I called for the second time that day. "Oh, I've had enough of you," Lim said. He suddenly turned away from the female lead and charged my director's chair. With amazing agility, he tackled my off the chair yet left the chair standing. I struggled for my life, and suddenly found myself lying on the floor alone gasping for air. Five club-wielding security guards and ten stitched later, I decided to leave the studio for the day. I got into my car, and thought, What a wasted day! The butler had a total of about fifty lines, about five minutes of screen time total. God! I thought, what'll I do when I have to find the two male leads? These guys are horrible! For some reason I couldn't get that guy Lim out of my head. That crazy Chinese-Latino, or whatever the hell you call a guy like that. After he was restrained the guards deemed it safe for me to interrogate him a bit. I asked him why he had attacked the female lead and myself. He kept screaming: "She fucked him," and "She killed them both—for nothing!" I never thought that my original screenplay could create a brawl like that! The guards kept hitting him and I kept screaming at him, trying to explain that The Waste of the Day, was only a movie, and that the wife hadn't even killed her husband. The husband was just finishing the casting for his new movie, when some disgruntled actors had murdered him with his windshield wiper. Poor bastard, I thought. Seeing bird poop on my windshield, I sprayed it and tried washing the windshield. For some reason, one of the wipers was stuck. Having a queer thought, I stopped my car and checked the windshield wipers. When I returned to the driver seat I was quivering and could barely get the key in the ignition. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- PISS - People into Serious Shit Founders - Defenestrator, PhrostByte Members - Author Parselon Wu Forever kQs CGibbons Extinction Faekon/Homarid Grench Greenseed Tim 121 Rhodekyll Dial Tone Psycho Phreak Djdude Circular Reclusion Havok Luther AT2Screech Contributors- Sameer Ketkar Phantom Operator PISS, the author, and anyone else does not take responsibility for what you do with the stuph contained in this phile. If you get busted, don't cry to us. We don't care. We have never done any of this. Really. And we don't condone it. Uh-huh. Want more stuph? Go to http://piss.home.ml.org The site will change as soon as Phantom Operator puts up his damn domain. E-mail the group at davematthews@rocketmail.com (C) Copyright 1997 PISS Publications and also copyrighted by the author. 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