nd William wrote:
I dare any of you to finish this scene.
Z rolled his eyes at the officer. I dont know, ma'am, he said, Ive
never had a drivers license.
The highway patrolwoman stepped back and
eyed the length of the Winnebago.
Incredulous, she asked Z to step down from the car.
A burning joint fell to the Oklahoma highway.
The door opened and Z stepped down.
If he had been wearing pants, it would have been easier to predict what
would have happened next.
Cut! Cut, cut, cut, cut, CUT!!!!
Is that the best you can do, William?
What do you mean? I havent misread anything, or stumbled
over any words.
Yeah, thats about all youve done, not stumbled. Geez. Maybe we should
just bag this whole idea.
Scott, calm down. What the hell are you talking
Look, William, I would have thought that your years doing a radio show
would have taught you something about using your voice expressively. Jesus
Christ, were not talking to ourselves here, were recording the hypertext
for posterity. As such, the least you could do is put a little pizzazz
in your reading. I mean, this one of most hilarious episodes in the entire
hypertext and you read it as though you were a Greyhound employee zonked
on Percodan announcing a bus departure at Gate 23.
I do not.
Yes, you do. In fact, is that perhaps the problem? Have you once again
overmedicated yourself into oblivion?
No. But even if I had, its none of your fucking
business what drugs I take or when or how much.
It sure the hell is when were trying to put out a quality
product here which will be impossible if you keep reading the way
you have been.
Look asshole, this is my section, I wrote it, and I can damn well read
it any way I see fit. And if you dont like it, you can stuff a blank
CD up your colon and record that!
Godammit, William, ever since you recovered from that bungie-jumping
accident youve been impossible to work with. You dont even like the
hypertext anymore, do you?
Lets just say Ive found better ways to spend my time.
Yeah, like remain completely fucked up on prescription painkillers.
thats it. Im outta here.
Hey! Wait a minute. So you refuse to help out with the
No, I just refuse to be insulted by a tin-plated
control freak. Besides, my leg is starting to act up again.
Oh right. Again with the leg. Whats your damn leg have to do with how
you use your voice?
Let me see if I can explain this in
terms your puny data processor can comprehend. My leg hurts. That means
Im experiencing pain. Which further means Im having trouble concentrating.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so
So ergo, I would find it difficult read out loud in a manner acceptable
to a fathead fucking dictator such as yourself! Capiche? Or should I put
the message in your cigarettes where youll
be sure to find it?
Hey, smoking does not impair my ability to get work done and do it right.
Scott, blow it out your ass, o.k.? Do whatever the fuck you want. Just
do it without me. I dont need the aggravation.
So, what? Record the whole thing myself?
I dont care. Why dont you ask the Almighty Cult
Leader to help out: he loves hearing the sound of his own voice.
Funny, William, real funny. Have a little respect
for the dead, why dont you?
I would if I really thought he were dead.
What? What are you saying? You mean, Dirks not dead?