Last night I dreamed I'd been acting in a sitcom that had just been canceled and we were at a wrap party.
I was talking to a small, dark woman with long black hair, and wondered aloud if our Nielsen numbers were really bad enough to cancel us. Sure, some people out there found the show too edgy, but weren't there enough who appreciated our sophisticated humor to keep the sponsors happy?
She stepped back from me, eyes wide, and sobbed, "We're canceled, and you're talking about statistics?"
I called out the same question to a heavyset man about 6'4" with shaggy, long, gray hair and a deeply wrinkled face.
He staggered a bit as he turned from shambling toward the door, looked back at me with his eyelids half closed, and slurred, "Mary, half the shows were crap."
"I know that," I persisted, closing in on him, "but the other half were prime."
He put an arm around me and tried for a slobbery kiss.
I slipped away.
I was talking to a small, dark woman with long black hair, and wondered aloud if our Nielsen numbers were really bad enough to cancel us. Sure, some people out there found the show too edgy, but weren't there enough who appreciated our sophisticated humor to keep the sponsors happy?
She stepped back from me, eyes wide, and sobbed, "We're canceled, and you're talking about statistics?"
I called out the same question to a heavyset man about 6'4" with shaggy, long, gray hair and a deeply wrinkled face.
He staggered a bit as he turned from shambling toward the door, looked back at me with his eyelids half closed, and slurred, "Mary, half the shows were crap."
"I know that," I persisted, closing in on him, "but the other half were prime."
He put an arm around me and tried for a slobbery kiss.
I slipped away.
No comments:
Post a Comment