THE TINSEL TOWN CAPER BY J.S. LONGSTREET ~ A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR 2008

The Tinsel Town Caper
by J.S. Longstreet
A Christmas story for 2008



Drips of red liquid plop-plopped into a pool gathering on the floor. Each drip fell free from the fingertips of Calvin Dweck. He lay still on the table-side bench of his trailer, mouth half open. He was the star actor of this years Christmas blockbuster. The movie to move a nation. With a star-studded cast, and an inspirational message. The biggest Christmas movie of the decade. CalvinDweck was to be this years award winner, with this movies' acting. However, Calvin Dweck was now dead.
As the drip-drip of Calvin's blood fell to the ground, there was noise coming through his door. Knocks had gone unanswered and angry shouts from the director had been ignored. Was Mr Dweck being stubborn? He would get a raise if he just came out, please. Finally, Calvin's personal assistant tried to pry open the door. It remained firmly locked, and it took the strength of a burly security guard to break it open. When the guard stood back, Calvin's assistant stood in the frame for a moment, her mouth slowly falling open. After a moment too many, she screamed. Others clamored to her side and peered inward. Everyone was talking at once, no one knew what to do. Before long, more security guards came bustling forward in their little golf cart. After making the crowd move aside, they surveyed the situation and informed the police. Calvin Dweck was now dead.
The director of this years Christmas blockbuster was busy wringing his beret in hands. Every so often he would reach out to yank his assistant within an inch of his face and demand things like; "What will we do?" and "Why did this have to happen with only two more shoots left?" and "Why haven't you done anything yet?"
"Mr. Shuter, we will need to recast the roll, or perhaps edit him out of the script," offered the director's assistant.
The director paused in wringing his beret for a moment. "Too right. Get the writers to meet me in the board room by noon. Send a letter and flowers to Mr.Dweck's mother."
"Yes sir, Mr. Shuter." The assistant made a few notes.
"Well? What are you standing around here for? This kind of thing always takes too much time. Hurry up!"
With that, and to avoid the director's swinging beret, the assistant ran off.
Mr. Shuter stood up, placed the beret artfully on his balding head, and sauntered towards the gathering press. "Ah, it would seem there has been a death in the family..."
Paparazzi cameras clicked, pencils whirred cross pads of paper, and many questions were raised. It did not, the director made sure, last until lunch time.


Because I can't post this many words on this forum... here's a link to the full story:
http://www.team-captin.com/literature2.php?num=102

uhm, OK.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr.
I'm not american, sorry. :)

It's a first draft.

EDIT: I shouldn't be allowed on the net when I'm in a bad mood after an equally bad day.