LAUREL SPARTA:
**Sometimes, its good to be a production assistant.... Now to have a conversation with this so-called director.**
((Laurel gathers some motion sickness pills from her medicine cabinet, and makes her way down from the production tower, pausing to give Cissy Spacek a stamp with her signature in the hopes of avoiding future commercials with feminine hygiene products. She steps out on the small lawn surrounding the tower and looks around, trying to determine where the director's trailer is at this very moment.))
((She instantly cheers up.)) **Ah, yes, here we are.**
((The director's trailer was floating directly toward her on one of the islands of land that were moving around each other sporadically. Laurel took a breath and stepped off her own platform onto the moving one carrying the trailer. The short flight of stairs leading to the door were easily overtaken; Laurel knocked briskly and stepped into the director's office.))
**Goodness, my dear. You're positively green. You mustn't look outside too often when these little things happen. You'll get seasick. I brought some pills for you in any case.**
DIRECTOR JAKETWIST~((emits a loud gasp, REALLY LOUD!))
eeeeEEEEEEP!!!!((springs up to a sitting position on the sofa, where she had been laying on a green towel, covered in layers of slimy green seaweed. The two avocado halves that were adorning her.... fell to the floor, and bounced in opposite directions. The seaweed started dropping off her body, and she quickly grabbed the towel she had been laying on and tried to stem the tide of seaweed landing on the floor in front of her.))
I have just now started my body regimen here, didn't your mother ever teach you how to knock???%%JakeTwist is mightily annoyed at the il-bred boorishness of Laurel Spartan-Apples%%
Shut the door! My God, before you know it all those TERRY CLOTH-wanna-bes will be crowding in here, angling to fill dear old WARSH CLOTH's place. As if!! Jake knows, there will never be another TERRY CLOTH, I am so devastated by his AWOLiness.((JakeTwist's face starts to tremble, and her eyes water and the tears spill over, run down her cheeks, making tracks in the mudpack on her face.))
%%Oh I feel such a failure, losing my beloved young protégé TERRY. If only he would send a message or a postcard to say where he is, how he's doing.%%
((sobbing quietly))
%%Oh man, I am really losing it now! Why did I have to think about him now in front of that job predator SPARTAN-APPLES?%%
((shakes her head, and clamps her mouth shut determinedly, wipes the tears, smearing mud all over her face.))
Is there something you need this very minute, or shall we set an appointment to meet?