So, today I’m on holiday and I have these guys here with part one of their posting on my blog. Welcome Mark of Chalies Scribes. Click to find his blog. Read on and enjoy!
INT. Day. Mark, Liz and Tammy relax on a white leather couch.
Tammy grabbed an old 8-trax cassette and wondered was it broken.
“There are ten tracks listed, but it still fits on the eight-trax,” she said holding the Best of Roxy Music. “Tha’ bleedin’ deadly, that is, like.”
Mark glanced at Liz, who gaped at Tammy.
“Did you not take the anti-Oirish pills from last week,” said Mark.
“Nah, they wrecked me digestive system, I was on the jacks for hours. Me bum was numb.”
Liz coughed. The others looked at her in a non-adverb, quizzical way.
“Guys, focus – we have a new client.”
While Mark planned to slide over the armrest and land snug in the corner, Tammy had, unfortunately, Pledge’d the couch, so Mark slid off the edge with a whoomph and an “Ah, bollix.”
Once Tammy and Liz wiped the mascara off their cheeks, they got down to business.
“So what does Shah need?” said Mark, as he nursed both a sore derriere and a sole meunière he planned to cook.
“I knew there was something fishy about you, Koopmans. Here, read this,” said Liz. “Bosley sent it via the fax machine.”
(For any Millennials who know not what a fax does, mail us an SASE and we’ll share.)
Mark read the four pages that were scrunched onto the two-page fax.[Twenty minutes later]
“Shah would really love a post on trade publishers who accept previously self-published manuscripts,” said Mark. “An interesting idea.”
Tammy leaned forward, her chin rested on her thumb and forefinger.
“Pray tell, and hurry up… I have to hit the store. There’s been a run on butter this week.”
“I was thinking,” Mark said, as both ladies cackled, “Oh we wish you wouldn’t” in unison, (which Mark always thought was the Oxfam Dictionary word for “only child.”)
“No hang on; I was only thi–, only wondering… how would we trade publishers? eBay? Craigslist?”
Liz paused working on her current voodoo doll prepping kit and scanned Tammy’s eyes for a universal bar code.
(Is he for real, she whispered?)
(Don’t blame me; I’m not the one e-related to him… I told you no sympathy hires when we set up our kick-block boutique agency.)
Liz scowled and asked Mark to repeat the question.
“Mark, it’s not trading publishers, it’s a type of publisher… understand?”
Tammy thought Mark’s fish and he had the same blank look.
She grasped Liz’s really sharp voodoo-cutting tool and turned to face her thesis.
(“Nemesis,” Mark said, in a really badly disguised cough made worser by his really bad sentence.)
Tammy stood and faced her nemesis.
Mark squealed like a big gurl’s blouse.
Liz sighed. It really was totally hard to find good help in the Valley.
End of Part One…
(Part Two will post on April 28.)
Meanwhile, if you, or someone you know, needs help and assistance from the good folks (and sympathy hire) Mark over at Charlie’s Scribes, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.