Messy

“Mickey, you can’t be serious.” The boy in the welding mask and bloody apron commented to his friend, who was standing in front of him in a full maid costume, with a miniature vacuum cleaner worn on his arm like a purse.

“Hey, a maid can be scary, Jason. She can get into your room without your consent, pushes a cart around that has all sorts of hidden compartments, at least I’m not a welder.”

“I’m not a welder.” Jason retorted.

“Let’s just get started, Jason. Who are we going to hit up first?”

Joanna made her way down the street toward the tattoo parlour hurriedly, unable to wait for whatever bauble or trinket she desired today. The enormous burden and magnitude of her gargantuan stomach didn’t slow her down at all thanks to the effects of the weightlessness tattoo located on the lower left hand side of her belly, although the size and scale of it certainly disrupted the traffic on the sidewalk, as she made her way through the Saturday morning throngs of shoppers she smashed them aside with the vast bulk of her abdomen.

(SCENE - People sit calmly in a waiting room reading magazines or watching daytime TV. A RECEPTIONIST types furiously at her computer. In the background a female scream of agonizing pain echoes through the back hallway. A young BRUNETTE walks in the front door and approaches the reception counter.)

RECEPTIONIST: Can I help you, miss?

BRUNETTE: Yes, I'd like to die, please.

This was it, Courtney Hewlett thought to herself as she straightened out her red, button-up suit in the backstage prep room. This is your chance to make it big.

Now, true, this wasn't the anchor chair, her ultimate goal. And true, this was a hokey special interest piece no one gave two shits about. But for an unpaid intern fresh out of college, any amount of screen time would be a break for her. And she intended, no matter how silly the story was, to give a good first impression to her audience.