“A re-write.” Writer Lady skirts her head around Tinkletoes/John’s body. She looks at Carp. “My character is requesting a re-write.”
“Not requesting.” Tinkletoes/John corrects. “Demands a re-write.”
Francesca rolls her eyes.
“Sorry.” Writer Lady says. “My character demands a re-write. What does a writer typically do when their characters get pushy?”
Carp rubs his fingertips against his shirt and shines his nails. “I always took great pleasure in killing them.”
“Weren’t there repercussions?”
“No.” Carp looks thoughtful. “There was this one time when I killed off a virgin bride on her wedding night in a freak accident minutes before her,” Carp coughs, “defloration. It was a long courtship as well as one of my more descriptive bedroom scenes. Readers never saw it coming. Once my hardcore fans got over it, The Deflowering of Penelope was one of my greatest successes.”
“Hmm, a successful book would be nice after writing all this time.”
“Boom. Boom. You’re dead!” Dylan calls out.
Tinkletoes/John turns around to find the four year old boy standing behind him, he is pointing a toy gun. “It’s Bang Bang.” The self-proclaimed mercenary says. He turns back to Writer Lady. “It’s supposed to be bang bang.”
“This has fifty calibers. You said those go boom.”
“Okay. Boom.” Tinkletoes/John turns to face the boy. “I’m still alive. You can’t kill me because I’m the hero. The hero lives no matter what.”
Carp counters, “Actually the hero of the story has been known to die, quite often. Usually it is at the end of the story.” The assassin-in-training looks at Writer Lady, “This could be the move that launches your career.”
“She won’t kill me off.” Tinkletoes/John counters. “Who would she bake for?”
Writer Lady’s closely knit brows disagree. Her eyes darken. She sighs in a way that reminds Tinkletoes/John of a bull, snorting.
“I am a writer and I like to see things from all possible angles, so I have decided to give you a late Christmas present. Have a go. Re-write the story. Show me another possible direction to take things.”
In an unusual burst of emotion Tinkletoes/John stands up straight and salutes Writer Lady. “Thank you sir.”
Carp coughs.
“Thank you ma’am.”
Writer Lady looks at Carp with the shock of a woman that’s just been kissed thoroughly by a space alien. She turns back to her computer and continues taking her version of the story where she wants it to go.
Tinkletoes/John puts an arm around Carp guiding the assassin-in-training out of the room. “I need a favor. This writing thing, how does it work?”
“You don’t know how to write?”
“If it isn’t a report or a schematic...I’ve written down light saber details of my designs so Anlace can write-up descriptions for his website.”
“That would be a ‘No.’” Carp points out.
“I know how to write but only real stuff. Man stuff.”
“You don’t know how to write fiction.”
“I don’t have a clue.” Tinkletoes/John admits.
Carp pulls out his cell phone and cues up a recording app. “Could you say that again please?”
“I don’t know how to write that fru fru girlie crap they call fiction. I need…”
“Training? Instructions? The guiding hand of an expert?” Carp asks.
“I need you to write what I tell you to.” Tinkletoes/John says.
Carp turns off the recorder in disgust. “I thought you were asking to learn a new skill, showing growth as an individual.”
“Me? Not when I have you to do it for me. It’s too girlie.”
“Follow me.” Carp says. He walks into the hallway and knocks on a wall. “I need a place to write.”
“What’s the secret phrase?” House asks.
“Decorate it however you’d like.”
“I always do.” She responds.
The outline of a door appears, a thin glow of light moves along the outline and the door opens.
“As requested.” House says. “Welcome to your writing room Carp.”
The men enter a sunny room decorated in a warm color palette. A chair hangs from the ceiling affording an expansive view of an elaborately detailed flower garden. There is a table sitting along the back wall with a comfortable chair. A laptop sits on the table. A cabinet with a portable vintage typewriter and a collection of antique ink holders sits close by. Carp opens the door to the lower portion of the cabinet. A modem, printer, paper, notebooks, pens and ink are hidden inside. The laptop is on. The display reads, “Hello Carp.”
“Very nice. Thank you House.”
“Yeah thanks.” Tinkletoes/John says.
“Is that?” House asks. “The boob brain?”
“Yes.” Carp says. “He and I are working on a special project.”
“If I had known he was involved I wouldn’t have let you in.”
A low growl can be heard coming from Tinkletoes/John’s throat.
House sighs, “He’s already contaminated the place with his presence. It’s too late now.”
“I’m afraid it is.” Carp agrees. “Would you please do me another favor and change the display? Run some John Wick footage. I think it will help inspire Tinkletoes’ contribution to our little project.”
“Of course.” House responds and makes the necessary changes.
“Can I get you anything else?” House asks. “A mint chocolate brownie latte might be inspiring.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“House.” Tinkletoes/John calls out. “I’d like a black coffee and a plate of cupcakes.”
“Nobody asked you.”
The sound of a slamming door echoes throughout the room as the self-proclaimed mercenary is ignored and left. Cupcakeless.
“Why is she nice to everyone except me?” Tinkletoes/John asks.
Words appear at the top of the wall behind Carp.
Because your rude, self-centered, neanderthalific behavior pisses me off.
Tinkletoes/John looks perplexed. “Me rude? When was I rude?”
Carp rubs his forehead for a moment then picks up the latte taking a sip. “What is it that you had in mind?”
“Continue Writer Lady’s story but make it more actiony. Write it so Francesca throws herself at me. All The Time.”
“You do understand that Francesca is also a world-renowned assassin in this story. World-renowned assassins generally have stuff to do. Lots of it.”
“Yes and she will, until she is alone with me and animal magnetism draws her in. She can’t resist me.”
“So your character is so irresistibly attractive that all Francesca wants is for you to introduce her to all of the feminine pleasures that await her. She never was a complete woman until she met you and all of that crap?”
“Yeah that.”
Carp sighs, “O-kay.” Carp turns to the laptop and begins typing. “That story line is always weak at best and completely lame at its worst. It won’t fit in with the John Wick franchise...at all.”
“If you don’t like how it’s going throw in some more actiony stuff.” Tinkletoes/John says. He turns to face the screen, watching the action and counting the bodies of the bad guys as the number builds. Tinkletoes/John finds it comforting.
Several minutes later Carp hears snoring. He turns around. “Are you sleeping while I’m writing this for you?”
“I might have nodded off. This movie is so relaxing.”
“That sounds a little creepy. You might want to tuck that back in.”
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