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« Wheels of Tragedy | Main | New Year's Resolutions »
Wednesday
Jan022008

How to Start the New Year with a Bang

Well friends, I'm back and I have to say I'm pretty pissed off. How was my New Year's Eve? Prettyuploaded-file-35244 crappy, but that's the least of my problems.

I walked into the office this morning feeling good about life and friends and even my job. I had a pretty good '07 and I was hoping for an even better '08. But if today is any indication of how the rest of the year is going to unfold, I'm pretty much fucked for '08.

I understand what Victor Von Frankenstein must have felt like after successfully creating life with God-like magnificence, only to find that his creation was nothing more than a hideous, murderous monster.

As usual, I called Teri from the elevator, then walked past her still talking to her with my ear bud. She never knows what to do at that point. Hang up and follow me or continue to talk on the phone to me. If she doesn't hang up, I hang up and yell back to her Are you coming? If she does hang up, I scold her for hanging up on me. Along with everything else she does for me, as long as she never gets it right, she'll never feel adequate and always want to improve and never realize her full potential so that she can get the hell out of this place and find a much better, higher paying job. As I've said before, good assistants are hard to find and I'm not losing this one because she realizes her job is too easy. 

Today was different. As I walked by her desk, she said something to me, something I heard come through both my ear bud and open air to my free ear, that made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Mr. Smithee asked for you to stop by his office first thing," she said.

I froze. And although I heard this statement loud and clear with both ears, I made her repeat it.

"And who told you Mr. Smithee asked for me to stop by his office first thing?" I asked.

"He did," she said. "He finally stopped by and introduced himself. I was beginning to think I worked for a ghost."

Mr. Smithee... The man I created from thin air. The guy who doesn't exist wants to see me in his office first thing. I immediately threw my things into my office and ran over to Smithee's office. Maybe it was just Gladstone or Kessler fucking with me.

I walked into Smithee's office and found Nick Zima, the adult film star apparently reprising his role as Alan Smithee. He sat behind Smithee's desk, very business like, his suit jacket on the hanger behind him, his white shirt neatly pressed and lightly starched, wearing a red power tie. Not sure if he had pants on, couldn't see under the desk.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I screamed as I closed the door behind me.

"Last week was amazing," he said. "It was the first legitimate acting role I've had since high school. It was a total rush, man."

"Legitimate? There was nothing legitimate about what you did last week. It's called fraud. And the show's over," I said. "You need to get out of here."

Nick Zima leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

"I don't think so," he said confidently.

"No? Then I'll call security and have you thrown out."

"Really. And when I explain why I'm here and tell Kornfeld what you did... What did you call it? Fraud? You'll be thrown out along with me. I'll go back to fucking women on camera. What are you going to do?"

You see what I'm saying? This is not the kind of thing you want to come back to after a crappy new year. This is not the kind of thing you want to come back to in '08 after having somehow pulled off the most ridiculous stunts of your career without so much as a slap on the wrist in '07. This was blackmail, plain and simple. Yep, he had me by the balls, all right.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I just want to play the role for a little while. It might give me the confidence to transition from porn to the real thing."

Yeah, that'll happen.

"You don't know anything about technology," I said. "You can't pull this off." 

"You said yourself, none of the executives know what the fuck their doing. I'll fit in perfectly."

Goddamit, he was right again. Well, let's think of the bright side... So, there will actually be a real Smithee around for a while. It'll lend a certain amount of credibility to the claim that Smithee exists and people won't think he's such a ghost anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about this. But my hands are tied, so I need to think positively. What's the worst that could happen?

Maybe I'll give the Suicide Hotline a call today.

Reader Comments (5)

I've got money on you winning this one Jason. Though the two of you actually have something in common, thinking with your dicks, you've got plenty more trix up your sleeve, I'm sure. Takes quite a brain and and a pair of boulder-sized balls to pull off the shit you've already done. God speed.

January 2, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterRawDeal

Dude, you're fucked!

January 2, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterTek

karma's a bitch, aint it !!!!

January 2, 2008 | Unregistered Commenteruserpool fan

"It's alive... alive!"

I think it's about time for maniacal laughter now.

January 3, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterTildesee

Muuuuhhaaaaaahhaaaaaahhaaaaaaa!!!

January 3, 2008 | Registered CommenterJason X

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