Page 58 of All That Glitters
Todd loaded the condom into the slingshot and tugged back the thick rubber band. “What’cha do is shoot the condom real hard at the person, so’s the ketchup explodes all over. Makes it look like a gunshot.”
“How come we ain’t just shootin’ real guns at Carrie?” Kevin asked with sincerity. It was a sentiment shared by the rest of the crew over the daily difficulties of dealing with a particularly entitled B-list actress.
“That might not go over so well with the union,” Craig said, although it made perfect sense to him. “But this here still looks pretty cool.” He nodded at Todd. “Show him.”
Todd adjusted his aim, swinging the slingshot away from the tombstone and toward Roy, who was distracted by a crow pecking at one of the dropped ketchup packets. With the focus of a marksman, Todd released the rubber band.
SPLAT!
Red ketchup exploded across the front of Roy’s leather vest in a surprisingly realistic gunshot wound, if gunshot wounds smelled like fast food condiments.
“OW!” Roy yelled, more from surprise than pain. He looked down at his ketchup-splattered chest. “What the hell, man? This is my good vest!”
“Cool!” Kevin exclaimed. “I wanna try one.” He reached for the slingshot, like a kid at a carnival game.
“Payback’s gonna be a bitch,” Roy growled at Todd as he dove for the box of ammunition. Todd danced backward, laughing, while Kevin grabbed another slingshot and joined the fray.
From a safe distance, Carrie watched Lauren interview Tony. The B-movie actress had been touching up her makeup when the news van arrived; and for the past ten minutes, she’d been watching this guy get all the attention.Hello?She was the star here; all the interest was supposed to be on her — not on whoever this guy was.
This was injustice on a cosmic scale.
Nearby, Steve was chiseling away at a tombstone with a hammer and screwdriver — a real tombstone he was altering the date on to make it appear older for a closeup shot.
Carrie strolled over. “Hey. Your name’s Steve, right?” she asked, her voice honey-sweet.
Steve jumped, nearly dropping his tools. “Uhm, yeah. But if you’re looking for the guy who put the mouse in your trailer, it wasn’t me.”
Carrie froze. Her friendly demeanor evaporated. “You guys put a mouse in my trailer?”
Steve swallowed hard, realizing his mistake. His eyes darted left and right, seeking potential escape routes from the fury he had inadvertently unleashed. “Uhm... maybe a little one? You didn’t know about it?”
“I do now,” she hissed, ready to blow. Her expression promised retribution of biblical proportions.
Steve gulped. “So... what was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Who’s the guy over there talking to the reporter?” she asked, nodding toward Tony. The mouse had apparently been forgotten for the moment as her attention returned to her original mission.
Steve relaxed, relieved to be off the hook. “Oh, him. That’s Tony. He’s the guy who wrote the movie.”
“Why’s she talking to him?” Carrie said, clearly feeling snubbed.
Steve shrugged. “Have to ask her.”
“Right,” Carrie said, but her mind was already doing the calculations. In the Hollywood hierarchy, writers often became directors, and directors became producers. And producers controlled careers, a fact she was already annoyingly aware of. And this particular writer was already getting the media attention she felt was rightfully hers. It was time she met this writer and found out what his deal was.
Then, something ticked in that famous blonde head —
Carrie spun around, her face once again a mask of fury. “Now, let’s talk about this mouse. And who’s going to get it out of my trailer.”
Before Steve could respond, or throw one of his fellow crew members under the bus, he was saved by a latex missile.
SPLAT!
A ketchup-filled condom burst squarely on her butt.
“OW!” she shrieked. She spun around and saw the entire inmate gang, now covered in ketchup splatters from their own ketchup-condom war, frozen in wide-eyed horror. They looked like a bunch of kids just caught drawing on the living room wall.
“Oops...” Todd grimaced, trying to discreetly hide the slingshot behind his back.
