"...and that's why we solemnly believe that school dissections are part of an evil school cafeteria scheme. Think about it. Don't hotpot, spaghetti bolognaise and stews almost always turn up within a few days? Thus I conclude my finishing statement."
"Thank you very much for that indepth perspective. Do we have a caller on the line? No? Well, then... I guess we'll just sit here in silence then, until I think of something to say."
Dusk flipped her sneakered feet onto the table in front of her, her face
absolutely motionless. A few sniggers could be heard in the relatively small
audience. She took a sip of water from the glass in front of her. She took
a look at the watch on her wrist. After about thirty seconds had passed
without a sound, she turned to Pete and said;
"Do you think there's anything worth watching on right now?"
The audience broke out into laughter. She raised an eyebrow at them and turned to Pete again.
"As much as I'd love to continue the discussion of your conspiracy theory, we have to put up with commercials now. Actually, you know, I love commercials. I mean, try sitting through a whole evening of potatoing without any pissbreaks?"
The audience laughed again, and the director waved to Dusk, meaning that they were taking five.
"I can't believe I'm actually getting paid for something like this!" she said to Pete, overacting. He immediately went along with it.
"Yes, isn't it simply marvelous that people are willing to take a chance on a little girl from Bumsville, Idaho?" *author's note* No, that's not where the setting is. Haven't you seen Hackers?
"Simply maaahvelous." She tried to set her face straight. "So what time is it, anyway?"
"About nine thirty. What's left?"
"Nothing really. Coming attractions."
The director came back into the room, sipping a cup of coffee. Dusk made a face at him and exclaimed in a bratty voice "And where's my caffeine-laden dung-colored waterish substance? Huh? Geeze, I'm trying to work here, people, in case you hadn't noticed!" He waved his hand in a 'whatever'-ish gesture, and lowered the styrofoam cup. "Are you doing tomorrow's features now or next week?" he said, a perfect patronizing snob to her spoiled brat.
"I behg youh pahdon?"
He just turned around, leaving Dusk and Pete grinning at each other.
"Okay, let's get started, or, finished, or whatever..."
The camera man turned from his BLT and swerved the lens towards her.
"Next time we've got a special guest here. Let me give you a hint." She cleared her throat. "This is the song that doesn't end, Yes it goes on and on my friend..." The audience, and Pete, groaned. "Come on! Lambchop is way existential!" she said, doing her ever-popular cheerleader impersonation.
A paper plane suddenly made its way onto Pete's head. She plucked it off and smiled into the camera.
"This, boys and girls, is what happens when you play in the house. You could poke somebody's eye out with this!" Noticing something written in the fold, she opened it up. Eyeing through it, she started smiling.
"What's it say?" Pete asked.
"Guess. It's a coming guest."
"Butthead, Pregnant Spice, Bill Gates... Spielberg?"
"Guess again..." She turned to the audience. "Hey hey hey, I am proud
to sometime soon present... Hanson! *author's note*
no! I'm absolutely stunned!
Somehow, and I'm pretty sure there is a rather large bribe involved here,
we, well, they have managed to get Hanson to appear on the show.
I must be more popular than I thought!" She fanned herself, pretending
to swoon. "Anyway, tune in next week for All Dusk Till Dawn, when we meet
eleven-year old David who makes egg sculptures."