Actress Janet Zzyzx heads to the haystack for fresh straw to suck on before her shoot. “Okay,” she said, satisfied after moving it around in her mouth, testing for texture, width, etc. “Ready.”
“Today,” said director Kurt Strawb, a fruit-vegetable hybrid, “we’ll be returning to The Void for more North-South action. Hurrah, thinks Janet, believing she’d be going back to the bar that provided her free drinks after her last shoot there. But, alas, that place has been shut down, as Kurt alluded to next. “*Instead*,” he said, “we’ll be returning to the same place as the Cash-Carter cell shoot from yesterday.” Janet hadn’t been there, visiting Bermuda on a short break at the time. She was familiar with Claude Cash — who wasn’t? — but the Biff Carter character was unknown to her, having only appeared in the film for 1 scene before this. She said this to Kurt; she asked what happened. “Set the scene,” she requested from her sophomore director, involved in only 1 previous film before this outside of student work. “Blackjack in Hell” doesn’t count except as a big fat Zero, as wide as it is high.
“Welll,” started Kurt again, reviewing it in his mind at the same time. “Claude — you remember *Claude* don’t you?”
“Of course.” Don’t patronize me you sophomore, she thought.
“He shows up mysteriously in this police cell guarded by our Clubb — which is a double entendre since Clubb is also club, add in Carter’s reference to Kitty Kat Klub, which is, in turn, reference to the KKK and also Krazy Kooky Kentucky from Act I. Then we also has mention of Klancasterians from Act II.”
Way too much detail, thinks Janet.
“So when our Biff Carter, back on the force, at least for a handful of hours a week thanks to giving Phil that pill…”
Filburt, or Philburt, thinks Janet. Wonder when he was going to rear his ugly head.
“… shows up, it’s not previously seen Arthur Kill in the cell — or Kill van Kull or maybe even Lampton, all being part of one entity that was killed and then raised from the dead in the last photo-novel…”
“*Please* don’t go back to that,” thinks Janet. The current one was confusing enough.
“… he is able to, ahem, *fill* in for him, ha, and thus use his old squad car, which has fallen into disrepair in the meantime — as opposed to *being* repaired…”
Pu-lease, thinks Janet.
“… anyway, he uses this to track down the girl, he hoped.”
Another stalker, thinks Janet here, suddenly getting interested again. Just like — what was his name? — the guy in black, the *prevert* who stalked that other girl, the one who also always wore black, as in bikini, as if they were joined at the hip in some way. Or someplace else, hmm.
Kurt Strawb had stopped here, waiting for Janet to complete her reverie signaled by her glassy eyed nature. She looked at him and then looked around at the crew, all ready to start, all waiting for Kurt to finish his spiel. Too much talk! most were thinking around him. He’ll never get a third try at these things the way he’s going, thought some even. Sophomore he would remain.
(to be continued)