Monday — praised by all the big bosses in their business odes and loathed by regular workers. The latter have to toil in sweat (or in the folds of their office pants), proving their worth to Mister Big Bucks.
This principle could apply to many industries — except the one we're talking about. The world of showbiz ran on a continuous loop, and it was pure coincidence that the first day of shooting landed on the start of the week.
Film sets with tons of equipment and trained professionals were long gone — now replaced by a universal model known as - Auntie Evelyn,- who personally documented everything happening out on the street next to the infamous garage.
Nearby, a peculiar group of people had gathered, drawing the attention of all the neighbors. One elderly man even paused mid- lawnmower to record the scene on his phone.
Flora and Evelyn arrived last, at Copy's insistence. She claimed that big shots must always show up late — just enough to make the staff suffer and feel insignificant. This time, the director decided to go with that advice, partly because she was secretly envious of Copy's (or maybe her own future) success, and partly because she knew Copy actually understood this complicated business better.
Now the three of them sat on a bench a little distance from the actors, observing both them and their behavior. Ostensibly, they were deciding how to best approach them. In truth, Flora was just stalling, too intimidated to confront the newly formed troupe. Evelyn quickly saw through this and gave her a nudge:
Let's get on with it already, before that other surprise I told you about shows up — you know, back at your place. We need to blend in with this crew before it arrives. The dumbest crew I've ever had to work with. No doubt you picked these people. — Copy sneered. — Look at this Multiverse Rescue Did we recruit every weirdo on Earth, or are there still more out there?
To be fair, Copy was exaggerating. The guest list consisted of a solid five.
Here they were: Vanna (yes, the designer), Campus (the demon puppet himself), the intellectual Manu, and Costume— who by both nature and calling was a Costume, and of course, the fierce Peyota, who had already gotten into it with Vanna.
As the film crew — consisting of a director (1), a camerawoman (1), and a self- appointed creative consultant (Copy, obviously) — approached the epicenter of the drama, they heard the Latina girl laying into the designer:
What'd you say about my fit, huh? I ain't part of your lil' fashion squad, sis, I don't need all those trendy streamer- designer I spin dat shit on my ass. I dress old school, and I ride that vibe, get it?!
A cluelessly cheerful Vanna smiled back and tried to clarify:
Come on, I just meant you're such a stunning Aphrodite, I'd love to see you in other styles — purely from a professional standpoint! You're absolutely gorgeous, swear to God. I even want to say, - Meow - 'cause you're such a kitty! — She actually meowed and raked the air with her curled fingers like claws. Back off… though thanks, I Am flattered! But still, I can't stand fashion tips, especially from pampered little greenhouse girls like ya. You ever seen how the streets dress? Excuse me, Miss… Peyota, was it? — Manu chimed in. — I may be misinterpreting the expression, and it could well be a metaphor, but based on my experience, the streets cannot
Peyota gasped in outrage and started gesturing even more wildly — now addressing both opponents.
I don't give a damn about your - experience- ! Where you learned, I taught — how to cook
opiates in a shitty trailer out in the 'burbs and how to tap into the cops' open radio frequency while studying the Poincare Theorem?. Got that?!
Again, according to my understanding, opiates are synthesized, not Oh shit, man, you are getting on ma last nerve! Professor, what tha hell are ya even doing here? Forget how to suck yourself off?
That final line stirred up the previously silent Southern man with the puppet carrier. He remained mute, as usual, but the demon was all too happy to jump in with the worst possible timing:
Yes! Fight! Manu, I wanna see you pound that spicy firecracker into a sexy sweet sandwich. Or the other way around! Peyota, attack! Who the hell is this nanny with a turd- knit Pokémon? — Peyota shouted, and Campus covered his plush mouth:
Ooh… sick burn! Punchline!
But to his credit, he quickly redeemed himself:
You're off the guest list for my K- party! I'll make a plush copy of you and invite her instead. Hee- hee- hee!
Costume yourself, — Peyota shrugged. — Your parties even worth showing up to?
Harvey and Diddy would DJ my parties! You feel that level of fire? Heh- heh- heh!
Maaaan… — Peyota offered a high- five to Campus, and they immediately The whole circus was finally silenced by Evelyn's booming call: Everyone shut up and line up! The director's here!
Surprisingly, the shout worked — everyone actually shut up, including the already- silent Costume, who was lying on the pavement like a man who had just fallen out of a window.
What's with him? - asked
I find it difficult to say, - replied - This individual has been in a horizontal state since our arrival.-
Copy addressed the group with meaningful authority:
Aha, that's what's going on… He's in character! This stylish glitch of evolution is acting out a bit where a person's been flattened or smashed into the pavement, and only the clothes are left sticking -
Everyone stared at the installation with renewed curiosity, but Evelyn refused to let the topic drift off and continued to channel Major Payne:
Listen The director has a few words to say.-
What kind of words? When do we get booze and debauchery? - Campus chimed
Oh, our sweet Flora wants to welcome us and tell us how much she looooves us all! - Vanna clapped her hands.
Now every eye (except for the costume- prop on the ground) focused on one spot. Flora stared back, completely stunned. What was she supposed to say? She hadn't prepared any speech! Her aunt had totally set her up. The awkward silence grew heavier, amplified by Copy's smug chuckling.
And then—salvation came in the form of a loud horn and a roaring engine.
Leaving the intersection behind, the strangest trailer Flora had ever seen in her life rolled up. She wanted to memorize every last detail of it, but for now she had to greet the driver and his wife — people she'd known for years.
The vehicle stopped right beside the group, and through the rolled- down window, Flora and Evelyn were greeted by Daniel, Evelyn's longtime neighbor. Beside him was Constantia, who waved cheerfully at Flora with a big grin. Flora waved back, genuinely happy to see them. Even with her usual introverted nature, she could feel the warmth radiating from this eternally high couple — a sunshiney, happy kind of vibe that always made her feel good.
The vibe! You two are always glowing, - Flora smiled as Daniel jumped out of the driver's seat and rushed in for a hug with both women, his wife not far behind. I don't know you guys, but I'm joining in any way! - Vanna yelled and they all formed a whirlwind of love and endless hugs.
Once things calmed a little, the driver gave the trailer a fond look, pulled out the keys from his pocket and handed them to Evelyn.
Evie, enjoy every minute with it. - He said. - Ah, it's hard to say goodbye, but my wife and I decided right after buying it — we're more into scooters. They're cooler. But for your goals — whatever they are — and this crowd - he looked at the mini- mob gathered there, - —this van is the perfect fit. Thank you, sweethearts, for bringing it over like I asked, - Evelyn said, burying them in her legendary They each touched a curl of her hair rollers — a symbol of luck in their inner circle. Evie, go ahead, get to know We're going for a stroll — the day's a dream! - Constantia waved again, this time in goodbye. The couple strolled off into the neighborhood, leaving the astonished film crew to admire their new collective mode of transport.
And it was definitely worth admiring.
Before them stood a masterpiece of automotive art — the peak expression of Daniel and Constantia's inventive spirit. The tuning job was so wild that Peyota gave an impressed whistle and Vanna clasped her hands in pure adoration.
Snoop Dogg had become a vehicle. Or maybe, more accurately, the trailer had become Snoop Dogg.
Using airbrush magic, they'd turned the van into a rolling tribute to the icon. His head, with a du- rag and a toothpick in his mouth, dominated the front. Each side depicted arms: one holding a mic, the other gripping a copy of The Kebra Nagast: The Wisdom of Rastafari. The back? A jersey- style inscription reading: - No Trueman, No Cry.
There it is,- Evelyn said with pride, rubbing her hands in delight, enjoying the collective - I kept it secret on purpose, Flo. Wanted it to be a surprise. Our team officially has its own party- bus for the concert— I mean, shooting tour across the country.-
It won't be across the country, - Flora - Everything happens within L.A. Which, naturally, killed the vibe — and she was immediately called out for it.
Most of the crew hovered around the trailer, poking and circling it like it was some kind of alien artifact. Only the ever- relaxed Costume, still sprawled on the pavement, and Manu, who eyed the thing with caution, stayed out of the commotion.
Noticing his hesitation, Flora walked over. She wasn't in a party mood either — and found quiet comfort in not being the only one.
Excuse me, Maybe I'm out of line, but it seems like you're not a fan of our future transportation. Am I wrong?-
The man gave her a thoughtful look and replied with a question of his own:
Seems to me... you're not too thrilled about it yourself?