Also Starring

           “Ok, so at this point, everybody’s screaming, right.  They’re all bloodied, they’re all dirty, all the girls’ shirts are ripped – you know, that kind of stuff.  The only light is from the burning cabin in the background.  We cue up some kind of momentous music – you know what I’m talking about, some riff that makes people know that the next things coming up is important – and that’s when the killer finally shows his face.  He’ll just sort of appear in front of all the kids.  Now, this is the best part.  At this point, Jeremy stands up to face the killer, whom he finally recognizes as – get this – his twin brother!  But it gets better!  See, the whole audience thinks that Jeremy’s going to stop him, right, because we’ve been building that for 85 minutes at this point, but before he even says a word, the killer stabs him in the throat.  No one will see it coming.  I guarantee that.”  Austin sat back down on his couch like a duffel bag that had been tossed there after a long weekend.  His face, already graying, looked to his guest expectantly, like a dog waiting for a treat.

            “Right,” replied his guest.  “So, where do I come in?”

            “I’m sorry?” replied Austin, shivering in his seat.

            “Where do I come into the scene?”

            Years of dealing with bull-headed studio execs, prima donna stars, and overly sensitive writers had given Austin a keenly developed sense of how to handle delicate situations.  Time was when he could call a mother superior a whore and still get invited back to the convent for Sunday dinner.  That was a long time ago, though.

            “I don’t quite follow,” Austin said, leaning towards his guest.

            “Well, you said this was the ultimate death scene, right?”

            “I did, I did,” Austin replied, rubbing his hands together.

            “Well,” said his guest, leaning his scythe against the Barca lounger, “how can you have the ultimate death scene without Death?”

            “Uh huh.”

            “I mean, all I’m saying is, if it’s a death scene, why not have it starring Death?  Right?  I mean, what could make more sense?”  Death cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair, the sound echoing around in the nothingness of his robes.

            “Oh, no, I follow you,” Austin replied.  “I’m just not sure that this project is really… for you.”

            “Are you kidding?”

            “What?”

            “Are you kidding?  Seriously?  That’s like saying, ‘I’d really like a Harrison Ford-type for this film,’ and then when Harrison Ford shows up at your door, you say, ‘Not interested.’”

            “You actually want to be in this movie?  For real?”

            “You wouldn’t be alive still if I didn’t.”  Reaching into an unseen fold of his sleeve, Death produced a cigarette and motioned to Austin.

            “No, I’m good, but you go ahead.  There should be an ashtray in that drawer.  No, the other one – yeah, there you go.”  Austin scratched his head lightly, hoping to stimulate something in his brain, the place where the old magic used to come from.  The living room was getting colder by the second, frost attaching to the windows, obscuring the 87 degree Los Angeles afternoon outside.    “Well, Death,” he began, “here’s the thing.  I’m not sure that we have a part for you.  I mean, a part that would be fitting for someone of your… standing, in the community.”

            “Um, hello?  I could play the killer.  C’mon, that’s a no-brainer.”  Smoke poured from his unseen mouth.

            “Well, we kind of already have Tom Welling attached to the project to play that role.”

            “Who?”

            “Tom Welling.”

            “Who is that?”

            “The kid from the Superman show – listen, that’s not important.  What I’d really like to do is this.  I’d like to develop a project that would really let you shine, ya know?  Something that would let you stretch your acting muscles.  Or whatever it is you have instead of muscles.  What do you have?  Never mind.  Seriously though, let me get a few calls going.  Zach Braff –“

            “From ‘Scrubs?’”

            “Right, from ‘Scrubs,’ he owes me a favor, and he’s working on a new project.  I can find out what he’s looking for and see if we can’t find you a spot in that.  If that doesn’t work, one of the writers from ‘Mad TV’ has been shopping around a piece that you might be perfect for.”

            “Really?  You’d do that for me?”  The whole cigarette disappeared into the space where his face should have been.

            “You gonna forget that you found me?”

            “No problem.”

            “Then we’ve got a deal, Death.  Give me a few days to put some calls in and we’ll drum up some business.  Next time you look in the mirror, get your camera ready.”

            “Why?”

            “Because, baby, you’ll be looking at a star.”

            “You know that if this doesn’t work out, I’m going to have to do the whole,” Death dragged his finger across the space where his throat should have been, “thing.”

            “Oh, of course.  I know what a deal is.”

            “Excellent.  It’s been a pleasure, Austin.” Death rose and retrieved his scythe.  “I better get going upstate, though.  Schwarzenegger has been pushing his luck for far too long.”

            “Glad to be in business with you, Death!  Drive safe!”  Austin walked towards the door.

            As the door slammed shut of its own accord, Austin sat back down on the couch.  “You still got it,” he said to himself, before clutching his chest.  In agony, he rolled off the couch onto the floor, staring in disbelief at the ceiling.  From behind the couch, Death rose again.

            “C’mon, Austin.  I was just fuckin’ with ya.  Don’t you know I don’t make deals?”