Inspired by a conversation at work with none other than TKD2DAN…
At 8:30AM, Jacob’s phone rang loudly. “Hello?” a semi-sleepy voice answered.
“Jake, it’s Tim! Your agent! Looks like I finally got you your big break, kid. Ever heard of a show called Star Trek?”
“Yeah, I heard of it. Ain’t that the show with the spaceship and those funky aliens…what are they…Crutons?”
“Klingons, baby, Klingons. Anyway, I got you a part on the show. Mind you, it’s not a big part, but you’ll get noticed.”
Jacob’s ears perked up at that. He had been living in this filthy city for a year now, trying to break into showbiz. He looked around at his tiny apartment, the clothes strewn about the floor; various advertisements for casting calls and the like littered the floor; the aroma of stale pizza wafted through the stale air. He had watched Star Trek a few times. It was visionary for its time, talking about a peaceful future for the world, featuring a black woman(!) and even a Russian(!!) in the main cast. He had noticed, however, that every time Captain Kirk and company beamed down to the planet everyone in a red shirt (except that Scottish guy) died. He often wondered about that, and even felt sorry for the guys from time to time.
“Jake, you there buddy?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So tell me about this part. Is it a speaking role?”
“Well, you get to say a few words.”
“Who’s the character?”
“He doesn’t actually have a name. You know those guys in the red shirts? You get to be one of them.”
“No friggin’ way! I seen what happens to those guys! They always die! Horribly! I don’t want to start my career by dying horribly!”
“Hear me out, Jake, okay?”
“Fine. How much does it pay?”
“500 bucks.”
“What are my lines?”
“Line, actually. You get to say ‘Captain something’s moving over there.’ Then you get to twitch horribly and die.”
Well, it IS $500, and nobody’s exactly beating down the door, Jacob thought to himself.
“I’ll take it.”