Bookshelf Battle

After the show, a tired, sweaty, worn-out Countess Cucamonga walked through a backstage hallway. She was flanked on each side by her burly, bald-headed, sunglass sporting security goons. Meanwhile, her dutiful manager Irving, a spindly little twerp stuffed in a designer suit, heaped praise on his client.

“Outstanding performance, Countess,” Irving said. “Positively outstanding. Butt Peace is climbing the charts even faster than Buttstravaganza ever did.”

“What fabulous news, darling,” the Countess replied.

“I think we’re going to see a dramatic decline in violent outbreaks across the world thanks to your song,” Irving said.

“Yes, well, I do what I can darling,” the Countess said. “I really do.”

Irving craned his neck to see that his client was being followed down the hall by Natalie Brock. Struggling to keep up behind the affiliate reporter was Walter, her hefty, huffing and puffing cameraman.

“Goddamn it, Walter,” Natalie said. “Hurry up. We’re…