Sound Stage Rebellion

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Sound Stage Rebellion

(Flash Fiction)

            Melanie stood before the mirror and smiled. She had a beautiful face, unblemished, her eyes blue in a soft shade. Her blonde hair was meticulously tied with a scarlet ribbon and the silky remainder fell to her mid-back.

Melanie was dressed in cut-off jeans and red halter. Although ten years had passed since she won the Miss Kentucky Beauty Pageant, she looked at age twenty-nine more beautiful than at nineteen.

“You’re on, Melanie, in five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hugo,” she yelled through the dressing room door. “I’m on my way.”

Murray Gushman had his cast gathered around as he described what he wanted in the scene about to be shot.

“Melanie, you’re busy at your flower garden, pulling unwanted weeds. You are softly singing one of your favorite tunes, ‘Keep on Smiling.’ It’s three o’clock in the afternoon and the weather is beautiful.

“Sandra, you come hopping over from your house next door, in a very happy mood. It’s your anniversary, and you’re baking a favorite cake for your husband. You ran out of sugar and need to borrow some from Melanie. You both sit on the grass and chat – you know your lines from the script so don’t do any ad-libbing.

“Wayne, you’re driving slowly past. Your hormones are titillated by the two women on the grass…they’re sitting in a way that gets your heart racing, and you are suddenly aroused. You watch the women as they rise from the grass, go inside Melanie’s house for the sugar. You wait for ten minutes, an inexplicable urgency shutting out all but thoughts of a sexual encounter. You…”

“Come on, Murray, that’s not the way the script reads. You’re changing the story into porno.”

“That’s the way the producers want it, Wayne – and, it’s not porno. Except for a few minor changes in the script from this scene onward, it’s a story about the human condition, about someone afflicted with uncontrollable urges, about the effects and destruction his action have on the people who are involved.”

“Cheeze! Murray, that story has been told so often, it’s becoming ridiculous.”

“Hey, Wayne,” Murray’s voice now louder, “you want this part or not? You’re holding up the production, and, if you’re out, that means another delay to find a fill-in for you. Why are you making life so difficult here? You’ve got a lead part in what I truly believe can be an outstanding film. This is a hellava time for moral rectitude. You’re pissing me off, Wayne! I know you have the resumé, the star status, and all that, but you knew what this sexual exploitation was about. Why the hell did you accept the role? You wanting more money?”

“You’ve changed the script, Murray. This production was supposed to be about ‘then and now’ – the changes in our culture over the past millennium. Do not make me the bad guy here! What amazes me is that you convinced the money people of the change.”

The cast sat stunned by the dialogue of director and leading star, wondering where it all was leading. The film crew shook their head in annoyance and disregard of their time – they were not ‘hourly’ employees.

“I’ve got the backing of the people who matter, Wayne. This conversation is over, but for one last question: are you in or out?”

“You’re a pervert, Murray! I don’t work with perverts.” He left the set, angrily throwing the script at the director.

After moments of silence, Murray spoke. “Okay, that’s that… Let’s get ready to shoot the next scene that does not include the great star, Wayne Hefron. We have damned good understudies with recognizable names who can fill the spot.”

He watched in consternation the walk-off of the crew and the actors on the set. “Where the hell are you going? We’ve got a picture to shoot here!”

Then, Murray Gushman was alone on the big set. He sat in his director’s chair and slammed the script down to the floor. “What now?” he mumbled to himself. He never experienced the silence that pervaded the sound stage.

The telephone jarred him out of his thoughts.

“This is Murray Gushman,” he said into the mouth piece.

“This is Frank Mandolino, Murray. Find another studio. You’re fired!” The phone went dead.

Murray sat for a while, his mind churning with thoughts. What a jerk! Mandolino was the guy who suggested the changes in the script.

            Finally, he gathered his personal belongings and left the sound stage. Hell, there were plenty of studios – maybe he would give the quick-buck adult movies a shot.

            Right now, he was horny. It was time to pay the ‘girl shop’ a visit.

He dialed a number on his car phone. It only rang once before an answer.

“This is Linda Sue,” the sexy voice purred.

“Linda Sue, this is Murray. I’m on my way to the shop, Is Valerie available? I’ve got a lot to get off my mind.”

“She will be waiting for you, Murray.”

Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood – 6/14/16

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I write fiction and non-fiction books, thirteen with the fourteenth in the oven, in the genres of Mystery, Suspense, Action, Drama, Romance.

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