The Fall of The Old South

There I lay, on my deathbed, counting down the minutes until I pass away and explore the afterlife. I had an IV sticking out of my arm, looking at an old scrapbook with old photographs serving as records and documents of my life. I looked back through the years, searching for a place I had known, which was no longer there. And then there was my nurse adjusting my bed sheets and pulling the blanket over my failing body. I thought to myself ‘’Enough already! Just let me die!’‘

My nurse said ‘’ your soup will be ready in an hour.’‘

‘’What good will it do? I’ll be dying not long after you give me the damn soup!’‘ I told her.

‘’I’m just trying to make you comfortable.’‘ she said. ‘’You should rest now.’‘

I just laid there as tiny bits of life continued to drain out of me. Each and every second I stayed alive in this bed was sheer pain and I couldn’t wait to die. Then I started looking at the scrapbook, reflecting on my life. I’m one of the last of the southern aristocrats, a legacy which is about to die with me. As I looked at an old photograph, I flashed back to beginning of the Southern Renaissance which started with a cultural arts festival.

There was a big band playing ‘’When The Saints Go Marching In’‘ as my parents, brothers and sisters, and myself stood there in awe. Artists were also painting portraits and sculptors and craftsmen were creating real life objects out of clay and wood. Many great southern authors were also there. All of a sudden, I spotted William Faulkner, I was a great admirer of his books so I went over as he was signing books.

I asked him ‘’I’m a great admirer of your books, what inspires you to write?’‘

‘’Real life, the environment surrounding me, and the people I meet.’‘ he said.

‘’What other kinds of books would you recommend to a reader?’‘ I asked ‘’And what advice would you give a young writer?’‘

He replied. ‘’Well, I wouldn’t advise him to read Hemingway for starters.’‘

‘’Why not?’‘ I asked.

‘’He always uses short sentences, his stories are always these upbeat tales of his characters traveling around the world.’‘ He started. ‘’I always experiment with stream of consciousness, multiple points of view, and shifting back and forth between different time periods.’‘

It was from this moment I realized Hemingway’s writing was full of shit, and Faulkner was an unrewarded literary genius. I flipped the pages in my scrapbook, and discovered old photographs from after I got married and had children of my own. The photograph was taken at a museum, the painting in the background was of an old man in his final moments on his deathbed. Isn’t the irony of this just grand? My wife was a such beautiful woman with blonde hair and a nice skin complexion and the kids weren’t bad either.

My wife remarked ‘’ This painting is so beautiful, don’t you think so honey?’‘

I said ‘’Uh huh.’‘

‘’Oh look it’s the Mona Lisa!’‘ she beamed ‘’Painted by Leonardo DaVinci.’‘

‘’Nah, it’s just some copy made by a painter the museum hired.’‘ I retorted.

She gave me a dirty look and said ‘’It is not, it’s an authentic DaVinci!’‘

‘’And I suppose the copy of The Last Supper over there is an authentic DaVinci too, huh?’‘ I cracked.

She snapped. ‘’Of course it is!’‘

‘’God your so gullible!’‘ I retorted ‘’You think everything on Earth is authentic.’‘

My wife passed away a few years back, looking back on these arguments makes me realize how much I miss her. I flipped through the scrapbook some more, and found some photographs of my grandchildren when they were small. We were all on vacation in Greece, visiting the homeland of our ancestors, before our aristocratic bloodline came to the Southern part of the United States.

My bewildered grandson said ‘’I can’t believe we’re standing on top of Mount Olympus!’‘

‘’Yeah. I feel just how Zeus would’ve felt, just without the power to send lightning bolts down to strike unsuspecting mortals.’‘ I said.

‘’Oh, would you stop thinking about yourself for one minute.’‘ said my wife. ‘’It always has to be about you, you, and you!’‘

I told her ‘’Well we’re among gods, honey. So it has to be about me, me, and me.’‘

‘’Oh give me a god damn break!’‘ she exclaimed.

All of a sudden, a bolt of lightning appeared out of the heavens, and it started raining. We ran for cover, my wife just had to speak of the gods in vain. If she had just let me ramble on and on and on, things would’ve been fine.

My kids and their own started filling out the room around my deathbed, the doctor asked them to come in. The room had become almost a gallery full of people I loved. They were all wiping the tears from their eyes, and it was just depressing to watch. Everyone just wanted to hold my hand, and they were so upset over the idea of losing me. This part of it seemed quite touching, and I almost started to cry myself. It was at this moment, I almost didn’t want to leave them. My oldest son then took my hand.

‘’How are you holding up?’‘ he asked.

I said ‘’Dying, and you?’‘

‘’At least you’ve still got your sense of humor.’‘ he said. ‘’But it’s not enough to stop the pain inside.’‘

He burst into tears, and I held him as he lay crying on my chest. It was just too much to bear for me, even for someone who was about to die, then all of a sudden I just faded away. My spirit ascended from my body, and the next thing I knew, I was entering a tunnel with a light at the end. And as I walked through the tunnel, I saw these beautiful white clouds, I passed by St. Peter, and these gates made of gold opened up.

As soon as I walked in, William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway were arguing right in front of me! It was so surreal, they argued so loud, it made the heavens cringe, it was unbelievable. I stood their in awe of their heated conversation. These two seemed to rip the skies apart with their words, I don’t even think the divine angels floating by us could contain their fear of the ensuing argument. One would think God would’ve separated these two by now.

Hemingway shouted ‘’The Sound and The Fury was without a doubt the worst book I have ever read in my entire life!’‘

‘’At least it was a full length novel, not some tiny pice in Life Magazine, such as The Old Man and The Sea for example.’‘ Faulkner retorted.

‘’It won me a Nobel Prize!’‘ exclaimed Hemingway ‘’What did your awful long, boring, drawn out stories ever get you?’‘

‘’I also got a Nobel Prize!’‘ said Faulkner ‘’A full 15 years before you did!’‘

Hemingway shouted ‘’You and your Southern Renaissance BS make me wanna puke!’‘

‘’Oh yeah? Well take your Lost Generation and shove it!’‘ retorted Faulkner.

Then I saw Leonardo DaVinci creating his next masterpiece, he used a mixture of primary colors red, yellow, and blue while painting the background of his canvas. Then he used a mixture of secondary colors orange, green, and purple forming some of the objects in the painting. He turned around and looked at me with a big smile on his face and a bright gleam in his eye. He acted as if I had known him for years and years and years. He put down his paintbrush and shook my hand.

He asked ‘’So you still think those paintings you and your wife saw in the museum were fakes?’‘

‘’They weren’t?’‘ I asked.

He said ‘’No.’‘

I wondered out loud ‘’Was Mona Lisa smiling in your portrait?’‘

‘’An artist never reveals his secrets.’‘ he answered.

I asked ‘’What about the secret code you hid in the last supper?’‘

‘’I’m not telling you.’‘ he said.

I asked ‘’Do you know the meaning of life?’‘

‘’Yes, but you’ll have to find it out on your own, I can’t help you.’‘ he said.

‘’Oh, I see. But thanks for letting me know. ‘’ I answered.

And then, my wife appeared out of nowhere, it was the first time I had seen her since she died. We hugged and shared a long passionate kiss. Then we both looked up, and saw the gods looking down upon us. We had our arms around each other, looking above, wondering what the afterlife had in store for them.

‘’I’ve missed you honey.’‘ I said.

She told me ‘’So have I.’‘

‘’But one thing’s for sure’‘. I said ‘’We’ll never be separated again.’‘

‘’I just hope those we love on Earth are alright.’‘she said.

I said. ‘’Don’t worry, they’ll be fine honey.’‘

Hollywood Can Kiss My Ass!

There I was, a Southern author relaxing, and enjoying a quite day reading my copy of The Elements of Style written by William Strunk Jr. and E.B White. It was a small 80 page book which had been around for 70 years. Many authors such as myself considered it ‘’the writer’s bible’‘, and I was enchanted by its wisdom every time I read it. Then all of a sudden, the phone rang. I wondered ‘’who the hell could be calling at this time of day?’‘. When I heard the voice on the other end of the phone, I couldn’t believe who it was!

‘’Hi, this is Michael Diller.’‘ the voice said.

‘’The famous movie producer?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes. I loved your latest novel, and the studio is interested in adapting it into a summer blockbuster.’‘ he replied.

‘’I see. How much would I get paid?’‘ I asked.

‘’$150,000 dollars’‘, he replied.

‘’Would I get compensated for any sequels, remakes, or TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’Of course’‘, he replied.

‘’Who’d get the rights to it?’‘ I asked.

‘’You keep the rights to your novel, the studio gets the rights to the movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I be able to write the screenplay or get any creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No.’‘ he replied.

‘’Why not?’‘ I asked.

‘’Your style is alright for some slow paced novel, but this movie’s gotta be a fast paced blockbuster for the movie to be a big box office smash, so we’d need the right kinda screenwriter for this movie, and the studio has final say over the movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’If you plan to go through with this, you’ll be hearing from my attorney, and your ass’ll be in court you son of a bitch! You understand me?’‘ I exclaimed.

Who did this stupid son of a bitch think he was trying to steal my creation? I had never been so pissed off in my life! After I hung up the phone, I sat there at the computer typing away in anger. I need to blow off the steam from talking to this stupid producer. Stupid investors with no knowledge of the story just give me a bad case of the shits! The phone rang again, better not be another god damn idiot from Hollywood!

‘’Hello?’‘ I asked.

‘’Hi, I’m Steven Lucas, I’m an independent filmmaker.’‘ he replied.

‘’And you wanna do a movie adaptation of my novel, right?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes I would.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get paid $150,000 dollars for the film adaptation?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get compensated for any sequels, remakes, or TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’I don’t have the money to compete with the big Hollywood studios, but I assure you’ll still be compensated for any rights and privileges associated with this movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get the rights to this movie?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes.’‘ he replied.

‘’So would I also get creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No I would get final say, since I’m bringing your vision to the screen.’‘ he replied.

‘’Then why are you giving me the rights if your not gonna give me creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’It’s just paper.’‘ he replies.

‘’No, your trying to screw me over! Stay away from my movie or I’ll kick your ass!’‘ I shouted.

I hung up the phone again, even independent filmmakers are now trying to rip me off! Who in the hell do these Hollywood people think they are? They steal people’s creations and take credit for it themselves! I know its good business and all, but how can authors such as Stephen King and Danielle Steele put up with it? Now I know why William Faulkner turned to writing screenplays in his later years. The phone rang yet again!

‘’Who is it?’‘ I asked.

‘’This is Dustin Hanks.’‘ the voice replied.

‘’The Academy Award winning actor?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes I am.’‘ he replied.

‘’You wanna do a movie based on my novel too, right?’‘ I asked.

‘’Oh yes! I think it could win an Oscar!’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get paid the standard $150,000 dollar fee for the adaptation?’‘

‘’Yes of course.’‘ he replied.

‘’What about sequels, remakes, and TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’Well, I don’t know if I’d wanna turn it into a big money making franchise, but I’d be more than willing to work with you on adaptations of my other books also.’‘ he replied.

‘’Who gets the rights to the movie?’‘ I asked.

‘’You and I’ll discuss those details at a later time.’‘ he replied.

‘’Well, do I get to write the screenplay or get creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No, a screenwriter will be hired to write it, and I’ll have final say over the picture.’‘ he replied.

‘’Oh, so this is just some lame attempt to get another Oscar? Screw you!’‘ I exclaimed.

Dammit! I wish these losers from Hollywood would quit trying to screw me over! What in the hell is their god damn problem? They wouldn’t know common sense if it bit ‘em in the ass! I realize they have to make money, but why can’t they give screenwriters the recognition they deserve? There are three types of movies. There’s the producer’s movie where a studio executive oversees the development of a summer blockbuster which he makes sure becomes a hit at the box office and paves the way for a big profitable franchise, full of sequels, remakes, and spinoffs on television.

Then there’s the director’s movie where a filmmaker has a clear vision for what he wants capture on film and see it through to how it’s presented on the screen. And at last, there’s the actor’s movie which revolves around your typical A-List celebrity, and is often the type of movie which gets nominated for an Academy Award. Either way, a writer is gonna get screwed out of his own movie. Dammit, the phone’s ringing again!

‘’What is it now?’‘ I asked.

‘’Honey, it’s just me. I just called to let you know I’d be home in a few minutes.’‘ my wife replied.

‘’Alright, see you then.’‘ I said.

‘’Is something wrong?’‘ she asked.

‘’No, just a bunch idiots making prank phone calls.’‘ I said.

‘’Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes, bye.’‘ she said.

‘’Bye Sweetie.’‘ I said.

Rekindled Flames

Under the dim lights of the dark arena, two professional wrestlers were beating other senseless, the fans in the crowd went wild as this violent and physical art form played out in the ring. The fans and the ring were separated by a mystical cloud of smoke, the wrestlers battling in the ring were in front of it while the fans in the crowd were behind it. As some of the smoke cleared, Eddie Daniels, a 20 something year old individual appeared with another fan.

Eddie asked ‘’Man, isn’t this great?’‘

‘’Yeah, these two hate each other so much, look at how they’re tying it up in the ring!’‘ said the other fan.

The two wrestlers started to brawl outside the ring as the fans caused a riot. One of the wrestlers took a vicious bump into Eddie causing him to fall, and get hurt. A couple of paramedics rushed into view, and carried Eddie out on a stretcher. Ted Daniels, the 40 something year old wrestler responsible for injuring the fan walked the paramedics through the entrance as they wheeled Fan #1 to the backstage area. Once they were backstage, the wrestling promoter awaited for them.

‘’Good show tonight!’‘ he said.

The promoter paid the wrestler his money for the night. He also paid the paramedics, and Eddie as he got up off the stretcher. It turned out the shady figure was Jerry Daniels, he was a short 60 something year old man with a gravel voice.

Jerry said ‘’See? What did I tell you child? This business is about how well you work the marks who buy the tickets.’‘

‘’Yeah Grandpa I know,’‘ Eddie replied ‘’You’ve told me over a thousand times.’‘

‘’Hey Dad, we gotta stop at the nearest kayfabe before moving onto the next town.’‘ Ted mentioned.

The three of them went to a seedy backwater establishment in a hidden part of town. Someone waits for them at the door.

‘’What’s the password?’‘ the doorman asked.

‘’Kayfabe....no shit, I’m the promoter you idiot.’‘ said Jerry.

The three of them walked in, and the place appeared to be a throwback to the old speakeasies of the 1920's. Old jazz music swelled in the background as they spotted a large group of the boys sitting at a table, each of the three grabbed a seat at the table.

Jerry commanded ‘’Alright, before we discuss the finish for tomorrow night’s main event, we need to address the attendance at the gate, it’s been down for quite a while, and we’re losing a lot of money. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.’‘

‘’It could be shootfighting, they’re drawing 18,000 people hand over fist while we’re struggling to draw 300 people anywhere in the territory.’‘ one of the boys mentioned.

‘’I think your right on the money there, those shootfighters and the promoters there have a good thing going for them, but how are we gonna compete with them and get our business back at the gate?’‘Jerry asked..

Eddie said‘’Well, we could promote shootfights of our own, but work the marks to draw even more money. And call it ‘’entertainment’‘ to keep the state athletic commissions off our backs, and draw even more money than we’d already be bringing in with the worked shootfights.’‘

‘’Damn your learning fast, even for your age, baby boy!’‘ Jerry said ’‘ I love the idea, but we need some kinda back up plan in case it doesn’t work.’‘.

‘’What do you have in mind?’‘ asked Ted.

Focus shifted from the speakeasy style kayfabe establishment to some big mansion with these huge fancy overhead lights shining bright over deep stained wood wall panels and flooring, and the brown leather furniture. Alexis Morell, a brunette wearing an elegant and refined gown had a cocktail when all of a sudden Krystle Grant, a blonde wearing a simpler outfit stormed into the room all pissed off.

‘’You stole my husband you bitch!’‘ Krystle shouted.

The two women engaged in a catfight destroying all the furniture, pulling each other’s hair, and screaming. Alexis picked up a vase, and threw it at Krystle, but it missed and hit the wall instead.

An individual offscreen uttered the words ‘’And cut!’‘

The camera pulled back to reveal a director advising two actresses in a scene, there were other actors and actresses walking around, talking, and carrying scripts. Writers and producers were also looking on. Everyone cheered for an intense scene well done, with the two actresses who were fighting in front of the camera smiling and taking a bow. As the camera pulled back even further, the logo for the long running soap opera The Innocent Years appeared on a video monitor as a beautiful piano ballad played in the background followed by a plug for the show’s sponsor.

‘’The Innocent Years, brought to you by Avant Garde soap, the world’s most innovative consumer product.’‘ said the announcer.

A meeting went on between the writers and producers of the show on one end with network executives and representatives from Avant Garde soap on the other. The guys from the network and the sponsor seemed uptight and not too happy.
‘’This show is facing cancellation.’‘ said one of the network executives.

Charlene Dobson, the show’s creator asked ‘’Why? We’ve been telling some of our best stories in years!’‘

‘’Your stories have been fantastic, yes, but your show has also fell victim to rising production costs in the last 10-15 years, and plus ratings have fallen because of cable and The Internet, and those are avenues in which our sponsor Avant Garde soaps are looking towards.’‘ The executive replied ‘’ So if you can’t turn things around in 13 weeks, we’re gonna have to pull the plug, I’m sorry.’‘

Charlene was an attractive 30ish-40ish-50ish year old woman with blonde hair. She was crying over the possibility of losing her show when the Caller ID on her cellphone lighted up. The call turned out to be from Jerry, who was also her ex-husband. She didn’t wanna speak to him, but hit the ‘’talk’‘ button anyway.

He said ‘’Hi Sugar, can we talk for a minute? There’s something important I wanna discuss with you.’‘

‘’I got the alimony check in the mail yesterday’‘ She said. ‘’But now’s not a good time for me to talk.’‘.

‘’Why not? Are you crying darlin’?’‘ he asked.

She said ‘’Just go ahead and tell me what was so important, and then kiss my ass by hanging up the phone, alright?’‘

‘’Our attendance is down at the gate, and we’re losing money so we might need your help.’‘ he mentioned.

She sobbed ‘’Well, the timing’s perfect ain’t it? My soap’s losing money, and it maybe cancelled in 13 weeks if we can’t turn the show around. I don’t know what to do.’‘

‘’Look, we’ll figure something out, don’t get so upset. Just calm down, and let’s get together and talk about it. Let’s help each other out, baby doll.’‘ he said.

Charlene walked into the old speakeasy style kayfabe establishment for the first time in years. She spotted old friends of her ex husband she hadn’t seen in years. They were all happy to see each other. She engaged in hugging them, and kissing them all on the cheek before sitting down at the table.

‘’Alright, I love the idea of cashing in on the shootfighting boom, working the marks and calling it ‘’entertainment’‘ to get larger attendance at the gate. I think we should go back to the carnies, and try the approach they had. But we need to add something juicy to the mix to make it seem more personal.’‘Charlene said.

Jerry asked ‘’I don’t know, but the carnie approach died years ago, and how could you make it more personal, honey?’‘.

Charlene mentioned ‘’I write soap operas, remember? Everything I do is personal.’‘
‘’But how can you pull it off?’‘ Ted asked.

Jerry asked‘’Are you forgetting how many years she spent in years she spent in soaps, and how much time she spent here when she had a vacation from the show during the years we were married? She has a good idea of how our operation works.’‘.

‘’But she has no idea of how things operate in or around a wrestling ring, no idea of the importance of the role each person plays in a match.’‘mentioned Ted.

‘’She’s a beautiful, capable woman, and I have faith in her, end of discussion.’‘ said Jerry.


Jerry walked onto the set of his ex wife’s soap opera, he had a familiarity with the cast and crew who worked there for many years. Most on the set seemed ambivalent towards him because of how nasty their divorce was. He took a seat with the writers and producers who seemed to have a cold, calm demeanor.

‘’I think one of the main problem with the show right now is the type of stories you do. They’re the same ones you’ve been doing since the 80's with wealthy characters and over the top plots.’‘ said Jerry ‘’Why not try focusing on working class characters and more realistic plots?’‘

‘’But the network and the sponsor want wealthy characters and over the top plots.’‘ responded one of the writers.

Jerry said ‘’And the funny thing is, the network is plummeting their own ratings, and the advertisers are losing their own money because of it.’‘.

‘’What do you suggest we do?’‘ asked another writer.

Jerry told him ‘’Don’t let them know what your doing until your already writing a producing a certain story, and do what you want and don’t give a shit about what they think.’‘

‘’Do you know the history of our show or are you familiar with our characters?’‘one of the producers asked.

Jerry mentioned ‘’No, but I think if we stick to realistic stories, and stop focusing on what the network and the sponsors want, we might pull off some good stuff.’‘.

‘’Are you gonna let this dirty old man for an ex-husband run the show? He has no idea of the show’s backstory, plus he cheated on you, and you had to find through an article in the newspaper for Christ’s sakes!’‘ exclaimed yet another writer.

‘’It’s long in the past, and as far as I’m concerned it’s water under the bridge. I think he deserves a shot. And I suggest you watch how you talk about my ex-husband.’‘said Charlene.

Jerry and Charlene were in bed together. She had her arm around him while the two shared a long passionate kiss, and moved her long fingernails up and down his hairy chest. Then moved them down his bulging stomach, and then poked one fingernail into his gigantic bellybutton, and gives him a navel massage.

‘’Was it good for you as it was for me baby girl?’‘ he asked.

She moaned ‘’Hmmmmmmm, I loved it! But what’s everyone gonna think when they find out we slept together?’‘

‘’Who cares what they think? It’s just between you and me, sweetie’‘. Jerry said ‘’They don’t matter.’‘ .

‘’But we’re divorced.’‘ Charlene reminded him.

He asked ‘’So what? I’ve slept with everything on the road anyway! Why can’t I sleep with my ex-wife?’‘

‘’I see your point.’‘ She said ‘’Anyway, I just wanna thank you for offering to help out with the show.’‘

Jerry said ‘’It’s no big deal, being in bed with is all the thanks I need.’‘

‘’Anyway, your welcome for the help with the wrestling promotion.’‘ Charlene said.

‘’Gee, thanks.’‘said Jerry.

‘’Who knows?’‘Charlene asked ‘’ Maybe we all need each other.’‘

‘’Maybe your right.’‘ he responded.

Jerry and the rest of the boys were back at the speakeasy style kayfabe establishment. They were all drinking liquor, laughing, and eating food. All the guys at the table raised their glasses, and saluted each other by slamming the glasses together.

‘’So, is it true you and the ex-wife slept together last night?’‘ asked one of the boys.

Jerry said ‘’Yeah, we kinda did.’‘

‘’So is she taking you back?’‘ asked Ted.

‘’It was just a one night thing, boy.’‘ said Jerry.

Eddie said ‘’Yeah, sure it was.’‘

‘’So, when’s the big day?’‘ asked another one of the boys.

Jerry asked ‘’What big day?’‘

‘’When are you and her getting re-married?’‘ he asked.
Jerry told him ‘’We ain’t getting re-married.’‘.

‘’Why not?’‘ he asked.

‘’What existed between me and her years ago is long gone.’‘ Jerry mentioned ‘’ I’ll always love her, but what’s going on now is just business.’‘.

‘’Yeah, sure it is.’‘ said Eddie.

A man sat at the next table with a tape recorder picking up everything they said. He also started making notes with a pen and paper. He turned his ear to the conversation with the tape recorder in one hand, and then with the other, he wrote down his notes.

Charlene was working on the set with a staff writer on The Innocent Years. They were flipping through the staff writer’s script, and Charlene made changes to it with a red pen.

‘’Are you and your ex-husband getting back together?’‘ asked the staff writer.

Charlene asked ‘’What?’‘

‘’Oh, come on, everyone knows you guys slept together.’‘ said the staff writer.

Charlene exclaimed ‘’It was just one night!’‘

‘’One night leads to a whole lotta other nights.’‘ the staff writer teased.

Charlene laughed ‘’Your so full of shit!’‘

‘’Maybe I am, but then again, maybe I’m right.’‘ the staff writer replied.

A woman hid behind one of the corridors in the studio. She wrote the entire conversation on a notepad. As she looked on, she almost chuckled as she continued to record what they were saying by as she continued to write it down in her notepad.

The next morning, Jerry and Charlene were sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast. He was reading an issue of Pro Wrestling Illustrated while she read an issue of Soap Opera Digest. They glanced over at each other’s magazines, and they noticed their business arrangement and one night stand had made the cover of both magazines.

Charlene exclaimed‘’Oh my god! Look what they’re saying!’‘

‘’Well, don’t worry about it sugar, the press’ll do anything for a story.’‘ said Jerry

The door to an arena opened, as a poster read ‘’Southern Fried Entertainment Presents Mixed Martial Arts’‘. Under the dim lights of the dark arena, one shootfighter was beating the other senseless in the ring. The shootfighter on the defensive end was dazed from all the fighting, and the offensive shootfighter gave him a swift kick to the head. The defensive shootfighter went down for the count, and the referee ruled the fight a knockout.

‘’Step right up! Step right up! Those who can spend five minutes in the ring with the champ will receive a cash prize of $5,000!’‘ the ring announcer barked.

A mystical cloud once again separated the ring from the crowd, and a young 20 something year old male fan emerged from the smoke. The ring announcer walked over to interview the fan with his microphone in hand.

‘’Well, what do we have here another challenger? Please tell us, what is your name and why you wanna take on our champion?’‘ asked the ring announcer.

‘’I’m his illegitimate son Peter Crane, and I have a right to claim this legacy, and I won’t stop til I get what I want!’‘ said the fan.

‘’Alright, get in the ring, and show your daddy what you’ve got!’‘ shouted the ring announcer.

Peter Crane got in the ring, and as the bell rang, he and his alleged father started beating the crap out of each other with the fans cheering. After several minutes of this, he put his father in a submission hold, and the father tapped out three times. The referee called for the bell, and handed the illegitimate son the prize money.

The new champ walked out the entrance to the back where the wrestling promoter, the soap opera writer, and the rest of the boys were waiting for him. His deadbeat father soon appeared backstage a second later.

Jerry appearing screaming‘’The show tonight was amazing! I was just counting the ticket money, and you wouldn’t believe it!’‘.

He pulled out a strongbox, he opened it, and everyone looked starry eyed as if they had just found buried treasure. Jerry pulled a huge wad of cash out of the strongbox, the wad was so huge, someone would mistake it for lottery winnings.

‘’We drew 20,000 people with tickets at $5 a pop. Somewhere around $100,000.’‘ said the wrestling promoter.

Everyone backstage went nuts as if they hit the jackpot. He then took the money out of the strongbox, and started paying everyone off. Their eyes all gleamed, at least they all had a decent payoff, paying their dues to reach this moment at last.

A girl was being raped in a college dorm room by a frat boy, she glanced at the bright fancy overhead lights as she struggled to break free. Her frightened eyes also looked around at the deep stained wood wall panels and flooring as well as the leather brown furniture. She slapped, punched, and kicked the frat boy with all her might. She glanced at his crotch, and gave him a hard kick in the balls which prompted him to back off.

‘’GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’‘ she screamed.

‘’Cut! Perfect!’‘ shouted the director.

The camera pulled back, and the rape turned out to be a scene which had just finished taping for The Innocent Years. Everyone on the set screamed and cheered as the two actors in the scene hugged each other for a performance well done.

Jerry and Charlene were looking all happy and giddy as if they were proud parents of the two young actors. Charlene’s cellphone rang, and the Caller ID revealed the phone call to be from the network. She was frightened they’d announce the show’s cancelled, but hits the ‘’talk’‘ button anyway.

‘’Hello?’‘ she asked.

‘’Great news! The show’s ratings have gone from next to last to one of the top three soaps for the first time in years! And Avant Garde soap wants to put more money into the show! We’re renewing it for another five years!’‘ exclaimed the network executive.

‘’Alright everyone!’‘ She shouted ‘’ I got a big announcement!’‘

She rushed back over to the set where most of the cast and crew gathered together. They could tell by the look on her face if something good had happened. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone the good news, the cast and crew wondered what was going on.

She said ‘’As a result of the new direction for the show involving down to earth characters and realistic storylines, the show has moved from next to last to one of top three highest rated soaps for the first time in years! This has convinced Avant Garde soap to put more money into the show, and the network has decided to pick up the show for another five years!’‘

Everyone working the show started cheering and screaming, their hard work had at last paid off. From the daytime television legends who’d been on the show for decades to the young rising stars who were just building their careers, everyone seemed happy.

Jerry and Charlene were in bed together, she rubbed an ice cube all over his hairy chest. She rubbed the ice cube in the small spot where his heart was located, and his heart pounded against his chest as the cold ice cube melted.

Jerry said ‘’I’m so proud of you darlin’, you sure put your soap back on the map.’‘

‘’Yeah, but most of it was because you helped out.’‘said Jerry.

‘’Anything for my baby girl, and besides you returned the favor with the wrestling business.’‘ Jerry said ‘’Where do we go from here?’‘

‘’Maybe we should get back together.’‘ suggested Charlene.

‘’You mean it?’‘ Jerry asked.

Charlene nodded ‘’Uh huh, but we ain’t getting re-married. It’ll just give you a reason to cheat on me again.’‘

‘’Don’t worry, it’s alright.’‘ he said ‘’You have every right to feel the way you do.’‘

‘’Right, but it doesn’t stop me from loving you, living with you, and sleeping with you.’‘ said Charlene.

She planted a big wet kiss on his lips, and clawed her fingers down his hairy chest and huge stomach. She listened to his heartbeat with her head on his chest, and with her hands on his stomach as she felt it growl. He put his arms around her, and they stared at the starry night sky reflecting on the past and wondering about the future.