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Another duet

         for one 

chapter 43



                          “Well, I called you first. How do you like that?” 


                          “How’s it going? How is it going?” I’ll tell you

                          how it is going. It’s not going. At all! That’s how

                          it’s going.”

                          “No, no, no, I’m not angry, Petra. I’m seething.

                          I’m freaking out of my mind. I’m fucking very

                          angry, you betcha!”

                          “Your project? This project is dead. DEAD!

                          Unless of course you would like to go right

                          back to the beginning, like none of this ever

                          happened. Didn’t you scout this thing? Didn't

                          you vet this place at all. What the fuck are

                          you people thinking. What are you doing.


                          “What happened? What happened? I’ll tell you,

                          I’ll tell you what fucking happened. I go looking

                          for the idiot sheriff or minister or whatever you

                          call it, and there he is in his pulpit preaching his

                          stupid head off in an empty church while getting

                          his jimmy waxed by his idiot psycho church lady

                          tranny boy friend.”


                          “Are you fucking kidding me! What the fuck?

                          You told me pure and unsullied. Like the driven 

                          snow. You sent me to Gomorrah Petra. You can't

                          corrupt Gomorrah.”


                          “No Petra, the town is not shocked, they don’t

                          seem to give a shit. Not phased at all, and the

                          crew thinks me, you, me and your board of geniuses

                          over there are over-funded industry elite shit-fa-brains

                          snobs, and they’re fucking right. You or I have no idea

                          what other cast of deviates are lurking in this

                          god-forsaken shithole.”

                          “Do you, Petra? Do you? Do you think you know what,

                          what, whatever lurks in the hearts of men because you

                          have a corner fucking office? Fuck you. Fuck reality

                          television. Fuck your network and fuck this town.”


                          “We’re outta here in the morning. I’m going back to L.A.

                          Sports interview shows and driver’s ed films seems a

                          paradise now, Petra.”


                          “Well, you tell your precious board whatever you like

                          Petra. Why don’t you tell them wild animals trashed

                          the remote studio trailer, because guess what, they did.

                          Totally trashed. 36 feet of hot garbage on wheels.”


                          “Not a chance. Every wire chewed to hell, the boards

                          are saturated with piss and shit, and we lost half the

                          cameras and audio gear which was in the trailer. And

                          the stink in there could gag a maggot. You want to

                          fix that, go’head. Good luck with that. You can pick up

                          your studio right here in Ardensville because the tow

                          and the driver left in the night.

                                              No one is saying why. Good bye.”



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