“Thanks for meeting with me again, Redd.”
Redd, she mused privately. I like that name. Better than Alysha. For now, for this scene anyway, with this actor/person. She decided to let him talk again instead of replying. It was in the script: blue.
“I… have a problem.”
“Yes?” Blue.
“I gave away my car to a man I’m not sure I can fully trust. Guy named Monroe Ray. Or maybe it’s Manray Roe. Anyway…”
“Anyway,” she quickly added, uncomfortable with the ad lib.
“… I’ve decided to get it back. You see, Manray, I mean…”
“Monray, I mean, Monroe.” Now *I’m* doing it, she thought. Eraserhead Man might not be so pleased with *this* ad lib. He was with some, and not as much with others. 1/2 and 1/2. Yet another one in a long line of 1/2’s and 1/2’s. I’m so tired, she continued pondering. Didn’t get enough sleep last night. The tattoo I got yesterday still smarts. I’m not sure it was a smart thing to do now (!). She instinctively reaches her left arm around and scratches it. Thomas said it would take a couple of days to heal up properly, maybe a couple of weeks. She could tell he wanted to add “a couple of months,” to extend the sentence even more but he didn’t. So it could be that long, ugh. But very very difficult to reverse now. She was stuck with it, most likely — in all likelihood.
“Monroe, right. Fern said it was ultra important and that the portal should *not* be closed right now, the one that goes to Bluefield, West Virginia, US of A. A purple car *will* come through, she stressed in her wise or at least brilliant way.” Then he turned away from his fishing and looked at Redd, aka Alysha. “But *you’re* Fern.”
“Kind of,” she explained. “Kinda not.” 1/2 and 1/2 once more, ugh. They both looked toward the cameras for direction.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 