Dag, Shirley, and Rudy waited in a room just outside Chester’s office, holding back a collective urge to freak out.
“Oh my God,” Dag said. “It’s been too long! It’s been too long, hasn’t it? Shirley, how long has it been?”
“Twenty minutes, boss,” Shirley replied.
“That’s too long!” Dag said. “Oh, for the love of Doris Day’s pearly whites! He’s probably giving her the business as we speak.”
Rudy pressed his ear against the door. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Aw, the poor thing!” Dag said. “She’s too afraid to scream. That obese lummox, flopping around on that Goddess like a diseased, syphilitic flounder. Oh, perish the thought! Perish, I say.”
The assistant producer kept his ear against the door. “I really don’t hear anything.”
“Bah!” Dag said. “I know the likes of this guy. All these power hungry Hollywood oligarchs are the same. Take a young, innocent, naïve beauty and fill her head full of fear. Tell her she’ll never work in this town again unless she smooches the pickle. Tell her it’s not so bad. Really. Just play tonsil hockey with the tallywhacker for a couple minutes and presto! A lifelong career in the pictures is yours! You’d be a fool not to!”
A loud, male scream emerged from the office. “Yeaarrrrrrgh!”
Dag joined Rudy in listening at the door. “What was that?”
Another male scream. “Arrrrrgh! Oh God!”
The agent balled up his fist and bit into it as if it were an apple. “It’s worse than I thought!”
Chester kept at it. “Gaaahhhhh!!!!”
Dag threw the back of his arm up against his forehead. “Oh my dear little Jordan! What have I done to you! I’ve delivered to the lion’s mouth, like a lamb to slaughter!”
The agent removed his arm and looked at his silent colleagues. “Well, don’t everyone rush to disagree with me at once.”
Chester’s screams grew louder. “Muhh…muhh….Mommy!!!”
“That’s sick,” Shirley said. “Someone should get in there and do something.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dag said as he pushed his right hand woman towards the door. “Get in there and save the day, Shirl!”
“Me?” Shirley asked. “I don’t get paid enough to walk in on…”
“Wahga wahga wahga!”
“…whatever that is.”
“Right,” Dag said before addressing Rudy. “Get in there and stop your boss, man. You’ll be a national hero.”
“Me?” Rudy asked. “But I work here.”
“Oh, so what?” Dag asked. “You’re just following orders? Every Nazi was just following orders!”
Chester’s cries were constant. “Buh…buh…buh…bahhhhhh!”
“I’m not a Nazi,” Rudy protested.
Dag pushed a pointer finger into the associate producer’s chest. “You are a Nazi. You are just like a high ranking official in this studio’s Third Reich and you are allowing your fuhrer to blitzkrieg that young lady’s orifices!”
Rudy threw his hands up. “My job is to just make movies happen and keep my nose out of wherever it doesn’t belong, Dag. You’re the one whose job it is to shepherd young talent through the pitfalls of stardom and protect them from the whims of horny, power hungry scumbags and slimeballs.”
Dag took the cigar out of his mouth. “That’s..that’s not….” He turned to Shirley. “Is that my job?”
“It is,” Shirley replied.
“Whoa!” Chester shouted. “Whoa, whoa, warrrrrrggghh!”
“Fine,” Dag said. The agent tucked the unlit cigar into his pocket. He covered his eyes with his left hand, turned the door knob with his right, and entered the room blind. “Chester, you dirty, deviant old man! Stop whatever it is you’re doing and pull up your pants right now, buster! Your penis’ reign of terror ends right here and right now.”
Bookshelf Battle 