Gertiss, Cont.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  No Houses
The new adventures of old Gertiss, cont.

Submitted: April 06, 2016

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Submitted: April 06, 2016

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From last posting:

Gertiss staggered through the door of Medium Studios, and started to walk very gingerly to the door marked 'staff only', and was watched as he crossed the lobby very slowly, and when his shaking hoof reached for the door handle, and the watcher, the receptionist, spoke up,

 

"Sir, sir, sir?" and when he failed to look at her, screamed "Sir, YOU CAN'T GO IN THERE!"

 

"Gertiss stopped, put his hooves to his head, and replied, "Jee-zus!"

 

The receptionist, whose nameplate identified her as Carol, replied, "I don't care who you are, you don't get in there without prior authorization."

 

Gertiss immediately got hot, "Do you know who I am?"

 

"Like I said before, it doesn't matter who you are, Jesus, or whoever, you're not getting in there."

 

"And who's going to stop me, you? I hardly think so," and he started to open the door. He didn't have time for this shit--besides, his head was brutal!

 

Here came Attilla the receptionist, charging around the desk, and sprinting up to him. He stopped, and started to turn his head to laugh at her, and...

 

******

 

New posting:

 

Where was he? He felt the cool of, what was it, the floor? What was he doing on the floor? His eyes fluttered upwards, just in time to get a glass of cold water right in the face. He sputtered and coughed, and said to the giant face leering down at him, "What the hell did you do that for?"

 

The giant head morphed into the receptionist, he thought it was--his eyes were blurry from the face-water he'd had thrown on him, "I'm sorry, Gertiss, I wasn't aware you had an appointment in Studio A. Just doing my job."

 

And a second leering face now joined the first. It was Madam Curry. "I'm so sorry, Gertiss, I completely forgot to let Miss Crosshatch know to let you pass."

 

Shit, now he had a double-headache! "Well, I've had some tough crowds before, but never before even starting.

 

"Here's a song I'd like you to sing," and Madam Curry laid it on the paper stand set up for him, in front of the microphone. He quickly scanned it, moving his eyes as little as possible. They weren't too bad, the problem was they were connected to his brain. He read a little ways, and remarked, "This is absolute rubbish! I'm not going to sing,

 

'Time to get up, kids, and be a productive member of society--do what your parents say, and then you'll be just like me!' No way, that sounds bullshitty!"

 

"Well, what would you sing, instead?"

 

"Roll camera, and I'll wing it."

 

"Ah, okay, I guess--if we like it, we'll keep it--if not? Roll camera!"

 

Gertiss waited a second, then another, then another, until Madam Curry yelled "Cut!" then, "What the hell was that?"

 

"Oh, sorry, I was just enjoying the silence, at least until you, Megaphone Lips, destroyed it with your screeching!"

 

"Oh, I'm sorry--by all means, take all the time you need, it's not like we're paying the camera crew--oh, that's right, we are!"

 

Once again, the camera was rolling, and Gertiss started to sing, quietly, "Kids, I know you don't want to rise, but holy shit, get a load of those bloodshot eyes!"

 

"Cut! You call that appropriate for children?"

 

"I'm sorry, but I just got a good look at myself reflected in the mirror on the wall straight in front of me."

 

"Well, you do look like warmed-over shit, but that's your own choice, now once again from the beginning."

 

"Shit, okay, but can we take that mirror down, so I don't scare myself?"

 

"Fine, Jim-Bob, why don't you quit just Hoovering a paycheck, and make yourself useful for once, and take down the mirror?"

 

A slouching, bitching-under-his-breath Jim-Bob walked over to the mirror and took it down. Madam Curry said dismissively, "There, was that so hard, Chin-Bob?"

 

Jim-Bob, who was quite jowly, gave her a look that could have peeled paint, said nothing, and slouched back to his chair, and sat there with an 'I'd rather not be here' look on his face. Then the camera once again rolled at the direction of Madam Curry, and Gertiss began again.

 

"Kids, I know you don't want to rise, but staying in bed all day isn't very wise--unless you've aged about ten years, and you've got a nude honey by your side!"

 

"Cut! Now you're just being a pain!"

 

"Sorry, but when inspiration calls, you answer the damn phone!"

 

"I feel sorry for you if that's 'inspiration' to you. Now, shall we do it again, without the inspiration, please?"

 

Three hours later, Gertiss had somehow managed to finish the show, and now could take his pounding head home and sleep for a week, he thought.

 

 

The next day, he was feeling much better--he had an appointment once again at the Medium Studios. He had slept all the way from after taping yesterday, until about an hour and a half ago. The appointment today was with Madam Curry again, to make a rough outline of next week's show. Gertiss was miffed that Madam Curry had to be consulted at all, but she held the purse strings, and the rational part of his brain could understand, but the irrational part, which he guessed wore the pants in his head, hated donning knee pads so he could kiss her ass, and wished he could tell her to take a hike. He knocked on her door, still anger with her, just a bit.

 

"Just a--"

 

He barged in, not waiting for her words, and saw her leap for her bathroom door. Or rather, he saw her ass, as it disappeared.

 

"What the hell, I was trying to change clothes. What part of 'just a minute' don't you understand?"

 

"Look, all I saw was your ass, anyway, and as a cartoon, I wouldn't know what to do with you, that way, at least. Under these drawn-on pants, there's nothing. The animators didn't think I'd have much use for a di--"

 

"Spare me your sexual frustration--give me a minute and I'll be right out."

 

******

 

"I was thinking, maybe some kind of puppet sidekick to play off..."

 

"Whoa, whoa, let me stop you right there, ain't no way I'm going for that," answered Gertiss. Madam Curry had thrown out three ideas so far, but this was the worst of the lot.

 

"Well, Gertiss," and she said his name so derogatorily, "it's my network, it's my money, and that's just the way it's going to be!"

 

Fab-u-fricking-lous!

 

 

 

 

 


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