Ficlets

“This is rubbish.”

That was not the response Jeff had expected. He’d spent the night and a rather unhealthy chunk of this morning working on the script. This was the 18th rewrite over the past two weeks. He’d spent more time with this script than his family.

“I’ll tell you why it’s rubbish. Nothing happens. It’s just talking. Nobody cares about talking, Jeff. We need action! Suspense! Excitement! BOO !”

Jeff flinched. He knew that Wayne was pretty eccentric, but he hadn’t expected him to leap forwards like that.

“No, what this needs is… is…” the Editor snapped his fingers in the air repeatedly as if trying to spark an idea. He stopped and grinned, and Jeff knew he would end up having to insert yet another awful idea into an already convoluted script – “A giant mechanical spider!”

“A giant mechanical spider.”

“Yes!”

“Into an 18th century period piece.”

“Yes!”

Later, when Jeff was forcibly removed from the building, he was confident his actions were justified. No court would convict him, surely.