Into the light came the newborn outfits, which Evelyn examined with great curiosity, turning them over in her hands. Her niece, for her part, kept sneaking glances at them too. The first item turned out to be a plain oversized blue T- shirt with white stripes along the edges — and then came a print… of that same T- shirt, reproduced exactly like the original.
The same went for the long bermuda shorts and a lime green hoodie with a smiling human mouth printed on the chest, above which hovered a cartoon speech bubble: - I'm a smile and I love to smile. Do you? - And right in the center of the hoodie was a tiny replica of itself, complete with the same exact print.
Incredible! It's like a matryoshka, but in a stylish — Flora said, clearly delighted, and her aunt approvingly chimed in — both on the video, and now here in real time: Do we take her? — She waited for the project lead to nod before adding, — and if she ends up flopping in the role, at least we won't need to go shopping for a If only she made shoes too, Miss Vanna would be priceless! Auntie, shame on you! We're fighting for Art here, and you keep reducing it all to greedy materialism and other base matters!
Evelyn burst out laughing, clutching her stomach like a cartoon character:
Oh come on, Flo, I was just joking! Why are you so sensitive? Vanna's adorable, and I'm glad she's joining our team! With you it's always the same… never know when you're joking and when you're being Let's just watch the next candidate's material. His companion's behavior raises serious concerns about the censorship rating of our future film, but… there's something about him. Something remarkable! He's a scoundrel and a rogue! A proper villain! — cried the offended Evelyn — and she definitely had reasons to be upset…
Vanna had barely stepped out the garage door when a man appeared in the room — average height, a lush full beard, a flannel lumberjack shirt, Timberlands with stiff rubber soles, and a trucker cap. Altogether, he was decked out in the stereotypical Southern look. But really, who cares about stereotypes, when the inner essence of a person matters more?
On his broad belly (which practically screamed - Beer lover - as Evelyn silently noted to herself, - I prefer wine, though ), the man proudly wore a kangaroo- style backpack shaped like a fire hydrant. And dangling in the center of it, tied on by the cords, was most definitely not a baby.
Not even remotely a baby. You wouldn't wish this kind of - pet- on your worst enemy. And yet, the actor approached the table with a completely calm face. Just as calmly, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite the director and the camerawoman, starting a silent staring contest.
It was clear Flora was uncomfortable again. She needed to say something — anything — to break the tension and greet the newcomer. But really… what was there to say?
This is nuts… — muttered Evelyn, staring at the large plush doll, which had an undeniably creepy look. It resembled a bratty little demon from the lower pantheon — something like an imp, with small horns, - skin- in red- and- green hues, and a huge mouth stretching from ear to And it was that mouth that opened first, revealing neat rows of sharp fangs. The demon gave a mocking grin and immediately winked (its eyelid actually closed and reopened!):
Hey there, sweet babes. You, sexy bombshell, and of course, you — luscious, juicy — The creature's voice seemed to genuinely come from its mouth, and unexpectedly, it had a velvet, alluring tone, like that of a pro voice actor — not some mischief- making imp. The man's lips, meanwhile, remained perfectly still, as did the rest of his stone- faced expression.
The demon, though, was very much alive — twitching and making faces using its eyelids and that infuriating - Cheshire Cat- smile, which irritated even more than its sleazy words (at least, that's how Evelyn felt about it).
.. So, I take it you're a ventriloquist, freaking objectifier of women?? — Evelyn tried to defuse the thick silence, and caught the puppet's excited nod in the next frame. It was bouncing on the man's belly (and how was he even controlling it?! The woman could've sworn his arms were just hanging limp at his sides the whole time).
The imp gleefully responded to her question:
Oh, my hot buttered biscuit — (at which point any anti- gluten activist would've had a full- blown cardiac arrest) — you're absolutely I control the body of this non- athletic sweat- soaked meat sack! Although I adore his body! It's mine too. And I love myself!
I have two sacred missions in this life: to do battle with sandwiches that keep trying to leap into the grubby paws of this glutton, and thereby stop him from getting cast on The Biggest Loser.
Although… — the imp turned its head slightly and gave its human host a critical once- over, — maybe I shouldn't interfere. At least he'd get some clout and a bit of cash out of it, and maybe, for once, he'd be of some use!
Flora hurried to remind him:
You mentioned two What's the second one?
The naughty little puppet stuck out its tongue — all the way down to his chin.
Ooooh, now we're talking about my main mission, baby! I was sent to this world to conquer every juicy pussy in this town! And guess what? You're first on my Come here, sweet things!
For the first time ever, Copy and Evelyn were in complete agreement. From the first came a shocked
Unthinkable, - while the second blurted out a blunt, - Fucking Yeah, yeah, you said it! That's exactly what's gonna happen. Let's dive into a slippery pool of pre- ejaculate, ladies! You're disgusting! — Flora shouted, It was the first time in her life she'd ever been that blunt. She even jumped up and moved closer to Evelyn.
Still, the man and his puppet stayed put, watching the casting director with disapproval.
While the host (or was he the sidekick?!) silently shook his head, the demon- puppet made a sad little face and spoke in a trembling voice, claiming to be the last (and only) surviving member of the Rimmin people — an ancient race wiped out by a natural disaster millennia ago…
Shy Flora instantly backed down, though not because she bought the nonsense the demon was spewing. She had already somehow accepted that if they were to talk with this guy, it would have to be via the puppet — to preserve the - integrity of the performance.-
The truth was, she just couldn't stand seeing anyone — even a puppet — upset. Conflict made her deeply uncomfortable. She HATED tension and tried to avoid it at all costs.
Which raised a fair question: how the hell was she supposed to function as a director, a job that required constant arguments and creative headbutting? She was already starting to blame her aunt for dragging her into this circus.
Two things were keeping her from calling it quits and walking out: Copy's snide little glance and that ever- present mental image of the coveted golden statuette.
So she played along, trying to carry on the ridiculous conversation with the strange man and his - pet.-
Tell us, what kind of cataclysm wiped out your long- suffering people? Oooooh, it was a terrible catastrophe! And it's about to happen again if you don't kiss me right now, sugarplum — said the demon — Help me through this, baby. Let me taste those luscious lips! Hee- hee- hee!
Laughter erupted from deep inside the puppet. Its head flopped backward in a fit of uncontrollable mirth. That's when Evelyn finally snapped.
Listen here, you perv — the game's I'm calling the psych ward, and you'll be off to warm a cot in a padded room instead of warming a bed with some poor girl. Some girl- ? — The puppet gasped, clearly — That's rude. I meant that girl
specifically! And for the record, if you call the men in white, I'll accuse you of racism! I'm the last of my kind, and you're trampling my rights! You didn't even ask my name before tossing around your accusations!
What's your name? — Flora asked involuntarily, instantly regretting it.
My name is Campus! My cousin Krampus hunts naughty children at Christmas, but I — I chase naughty girls around college campuses on my home planet all year long. Ohhh yeeeah! Okay, okay, I don't do that... I don't harass women without their consent. And I also like to ski.
Evelyn pressed the X button and shut off the video, staring at her niece in silence. Flora spread her arms and said:
Yeah… tough But I really don't get why you even showed me that file. It's pretty obvious we're not putting him in the film.
Evelyn stared even harder and asked:
And which one of us is the film buff here? You or me? Don't tell me colorful characters don't make good cinema. I'm not arguing, But come on — he's revolting! Have you ever seen a bigger misogynist? Well, I wouldn't call him that, exactly — Evelyn — He seems to really like women, in fact. But yes, he's a vile objectifier, no doubt about it. If we bring him on board, we'll have to make sure he doesn't get murdered on set for pulling stunts like that. But I'm up for the challenge. I want to see if he can handle me — because I'm not the one to mess with!
Okay, Let's file him under - Pending Review.-
Sesame opened again, and straight from the street into the casting- space plane stepped a new character — prompting a barely- suppressed gasp of admiration from Flora.
The girl was, by all directorial standards of beauty, absolutely stunning — her short bleached- blonde curls, a long scar slicing down one side of her right cheek, and muscular tattooed arms gave her the air of a seasoned pirate.
She entered with the same rolling swagger you'd expect from someone crossing a deck at sea — though in reality, it was just her sagging jeans tripping her up. Her tight torso wore a red flannel shirt in bold black checks, left unbuttoned, while her head bore no regal crown or thorny halo, but a bandana tied Tupac- style — knot in the front — and her feet completed the look with scuffed white sneakers.
Her olive skin seemed to glow from within, like it had been blessed by the entire cosmetic industry at once. Lush lashes and perfect teeth sealed the deal — this was someone painfully photogenic.
And just as everyone was silently tossing compliments her way, she flopped down onto a chair, straddling it backwards, and dropped the intro:
Yo yo, homez, what's poppin'? Heard y'all makin' a flick, so let's cut the crap and get straight to stackin' them dollars. Just stuff 'em in this pocket, sugar. — She pointed at exactly which pocket she meant, and Flora, her voice trembling, replied:
Uh, Pleased to meet you…
Evelyn, noticing the awkward pause, jumped in smoothly:
No one's getting paid on this project, miss - Yo- whatever- your- name- is. - No exceptions. Are you okay with that?
Name's Peyota. That's my tag, vatos. You don't need my real name, get it? — She pulled out a rolling paper and a tiny bag of In one swift motion (a sign of long experience), she stuffed the joint, licked it down, and flicked a lighter. A fruity, mango- tinged funk filled the air. 'Bout that cash — shame y'all ain't got a lil' green for me, but hey — it is what it is. — Tilting her head back, she blew a thick stream of smoke toward the ceiling and smiled — damn, that's some potent shit. So? Am I in or not? Just a Let's talk a bit first. Tell us something about yourself. — Flora tried to reclaim the initiative, still unsure how to act. Evelyn gave her niece a supportive squeeze on the shoulder. Sure thing. You wanna hit this? — Peyota held the joint out to the director, who politely declined. Auntie, on the other hand, took a drag — and immediately exploded into a coughing fit. Flora stared in disbelief — wasn't her aunt strictly anti- weed? But hey, in this freakshow of a day, nothing was off the table anymore.