Who Stole the Funny? : A Novel of Hollywood (2 page)
Read Who Stole the Funny? : A Novel of Hollywood Online
Authors: Robby Benson
actually cared about the
phous Entity made up of revolv-
show and their needs. Dick
ing-door executives who eventu-
was
very
enthusiastic and
ally broadcast the product.
compassionate.
ENTITY:
gimme, gimme, gimme!
“Jasperaspercasper,” he
said with pitch-perfect false
enthusiasm/compassion,
“I’ve got good news! You’ve been offered three more episodes of
I
Love My Urban Buddies
. The Studio, the Network, everyone loves what you’re doing on
Buddies
! This show is through the roof! It’s become the number one show on TV—and they want you, Jasperooski! You!”
Jasper went through a red light (his directorial prerogative),
almost smashing into a low-end BMW driven by an actor who
couldn’t afford a Jag.
“You fuck. I have the right-of-way! Take a left and drive off a cliff!” he barked like any good director, giving good strong direction.
6
W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?
“Jasperooski,” Dick said,
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enthusiastically, “Marc and
Steph Pooley
love you.
Do
FASTER! FUNNIER!
The direction
you know what it means
most responsible for the de-
when the showrunners love
struction of comedy and the rise
you? And these two don’t
of Reality Shows.
VISION:
Shortsightedness, as op-
love anyone! They don’t even
posed to nearsightedness, which
love each other—and they’re
can be corrected.
married!”
Jasper was loved because
he was a traffic-cop/yes-sir
director. He had four different, very oh-so-important directions he whispered into an actor’s ear: (1)
“Do it again, exactly the same.”
(2)
“Do it better.”
(3)
“Do it faster! And funnier!”
And finally, (4)
“Be brilliant, dammit! I thought you could act!”
Jasper would then return to the executives and showrunners with a look on his face as if he had just fixed the scene with his vision.
“Shitfuck. Dick—don’t you represent the Pooleys?” The con-
nection only now dawned on Jasper, a man whose job it was to
recognize detail. An agent representing competing Entities in a creative endeavor such as a sitcom was a clear conflict of interests.
But Jasper was always happy to be paid to direct (which
shouldn’t be misinterpreted as being paid to
work
. Directors tell
others
to work). And, Jasper reasoned, this was the hottest show on TV. So what if there
was
a little conflict of interests? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Jasper looked at the new
wardrobe and seven boxes
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of shoes in the backseat of
CONFLICT OF INTERESTS:
Every-
his Jag and came to a quick
one wins!
and rational decision. “You
know what? Just say yes. I’ll
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7
give them a helluva show.
You know,” he added quickly,
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“I’ll give them
whatever they
THE BIG BUCKS:
More money
want
. . .”
in one week than a firefighter
“That’s my man,” Dick
makes in a year; more money in
said, “just give ’em what
one year than a schoolteacher
they want! Remember, that’s
makes in a career. Not as much
your job. Give ’em what they
as the winner of the World Series
want.”
of poker.
“Yes. Definitely, I’ll give
’em whatever they want. I’m
their man. I’ll do it. Whatever they want.”
“Great, Jasper the Master. Oh, one last thing—I couldn’t get
your quote for the big bucks but I got you thirty grand an episode.
And you only have to pay me half of my commission. So it’s like thirty-three grand. You okay with that?”
“Wait a minute,” Jasper said. “Explain—”
“Well, Jasper-is-faster, I
brokered
the show. I put the package together. Without me, nobody’d have a job,” Dick rambled, with
remarkable enthusiasm and compassion. Dick was in a position to make seven figures without expertise in a craft or even breaking a sweat. Millions, just for making a few phone calls.
“Whoa . . . now we really are talking about a conflict of interests,” Jasper said. Then he turned his Jag into the driveway and stared at the new construction on his $4 million home. “Tell ’em Yes.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic! Everything’s just dandy, Jasperandy. All
good. No bad! I mean, really—
What could go wrong?
” And then Jasper’s cell phone lost its signal.
Jasper arrived home late Sunday afternoon, with his new ward-
robe for his new job, only to find that his third wife Michelle had started yet another renovation. (Jasper was referred to by divorce lawyers as an E.R.: Erase and Replace kind of guy.)
Michelle had felt abandoned ever since her marriage to Jasper,
and with good cause. Basically, after the honeymoon, Jasper
treated Michelle like someone on a set: he ordered her to do
things and expected them to get done. Michelle hadn’t counted
on a relationship where she played the part of a grip or a gofer.
So she began to occupy herself with design. Interior and exterior design. And with a spending fervor that forced Jasper to keep
working, like the high-level schmuck he was.
Jasper hopped out of his Jaguar (the prototypical B-grade
Schmuckmobile) and ordered Norma the Guatemalan maid to
take his clothes into the house and press them, then hang them in his walk-in closet. Norma had an odd look of panic when Jasper
directed her to do these specific chores. Jasper then gave her acting directions as well, even though Norma didn’t speak English. Jasper would simply direct Norma more slowly.
“Norma—
steeeeaaam myyyy neeew cloooothes theeeen haaaang
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theeeem uuuuup iiiiin myyyyy clooooseeeet. Uuuuunderstaaaand?
Pronto!”
Norma looked down, ashamed. Not her usual look of shame,
but an I-know-something-I’m-not-supposed-to-know look of
shame. If only Jasper had truly been a man of detail and under-
stood the basics of directing, he would have been able to differen-tiate Norma’s looks of shame. Oh well.
Fuming, walking over tools and debris in the living room, Jas-
per stumbled through the new construction in his bedroom and
out a private automated door, beyond which he knew he would
find his wife Michelle in the hot tub he had purchased for me-
dicinal purposes. Michelle was indeed in the hot tub—fucking the young, muscle-bound, deck-building construction-worker-of-the-month. Certainly, this
wasn’t medicinal.
It was, however, pre-
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dictable. Like many in the
MEDICINAL:
Possible to write off
television business, Jasper
as a tax break or to have paid for
made busy work for him-
by a union’s insurance company.
self so that he rarely had to
A prescription from a doctor is
go home at sensible domes-
mandatory and a cinch to get.
tic hours. In other words,
Those darn doctors!
home meant
real life
. Real
life meant interacting with
real people such as a child or a wife. It was much easier to interact with a child actor or a sitcom wife. So in order to avoid his real life, Jasper would find reasons not to come home. Schmooze over a round of golf, cheat on his wife, whatever—anything to stay out of the realm of reality. The women in Jasper’s life had, in turn, always cheated on him.
Having caught Michelle in hot-tub flagrante (
I’ll love her until
the day she drowns,
Jasper thought), Jasper silently unzipped his 1 0
W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?
pants and began to masturbate. Just as all three were about to orgasm, Michelle noticed her husband standing on the deck with his pants around his ankles and his dick in his hand.
“You sick fuck!” Mi-
chelle cried out.
“Me?!” Jasper continued
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to pump. “You’re the one
SCHMOOZE:
To schleep with
fucking the construction
asch many chicksch asch poss-
guy in the hot tub I paid for!
chible. Lotsch of schex.
You bitch . . . hold on . . . oh
. . . yes, you’re a bitch. Oh
yes, you’re a bi—”
The construction worker jumped out of the tub and ran to-
ward his sports bag, where he kept his eight-by-ten photo and ré-
sumé in case he ever ran into Jasper. Jasper, quivering, stepped forward to take the photo (multitasking) and accidentally stood on the compressed-air tubing of the nail gun.
Funny thing about a pneumatic nail gun: build up enough
pressure in the hose, and it’ll take on a life of its own. The three watched, mesmerized, as the nail gun slithered like a snake
and began to rise, with Jasper as the snake charmer. It twisted, vibrated, then leapt high into the air and misfired, sending a six-inch galvanized nail into
Jasper’s forehead.
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Jasper had finally been
INFORMANT:
nailed.
A bribee; everyone
could use a little petty cash.
The Network found out
immediately that it had lost
its director for the next three episodes of
I Love My Urban Buddies
because Jasper’s maid, Norma, who actually spoke perfect English, was an informant.
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1 1
The Studio found out an hour later that it had lost its director for the next three episodes of
I Love My Urban Buddies
because it had ties with the Los Angeles Homicide Division, courtesy of its advisory role in the studio’s crime shows.
The Pooleys found out
they had lost their director
for the next three episodes of
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I Love My Urban Buddies
be-
PERK:
Everyone could use a little
cause Dick Beaglebum called
petty ass.
them. From Jasper’s house.
Dick had raced to the scene
of the accident to see if his director could direct with a six-inch nail in his head. But, alas, Jasper was stone cold.
Dick Beaglebum wasn’t your Standard American Male either.
He loved the perk of keeping his clients’ wives satisfied. While their husbands were making television, Dick was making naughty.
Damn,
Dick thought. He’d had two reasons to keep Jasper employed: he received ten percent of Jasper’s paycheck and ten percent of Michelle. Now he’d lost both. He made a mental note to
ask Michelle what she was going to do with Jasper’s legendary shoe collection. He wore the same size.
All death aside, now there was a REAL problem: it was Sun-
day afternoon and all three Entities (
gimme, gimme, gimme,
ad nauseum) involved in this sitcom shenanigan—the network, the
studio, and the Pooleys—needed a director to start the following morning and commit to the three episodes Jasper Jones could no
longer direct. (Actually, given the present state of sitcoms, Jasper, albeit dead, still could’ve directed all three shows. But that’s another story.)
As for Jasper Jones, he was later honored by the Directors Guild of America for his sparkling career and endless accomplishments.
Jasper Jones was also given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
* * *
W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?
The Network confabbed at
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an emergency meeting of all
its Presidents and Vice Pres-
SPARKLING CAREER:
Employment.
idents of Television. There
ENDLESS ACCOMPLISHMENTS:
were seventeen Presidents
Survival.
and Vice Presidents in all, so
A STAR ON THE HOLLYWOOD
the meeting had to be taken
WALK OF FAME:
A $15,000 ego
in the large boardroom, built
trip, paid for by the recipient’s
only for show (= status).
public relations firm.
The Studio confabbed at
an emergency meeting of all
its Presidents and Vice Pres-
idents of Television. There were twenty-three Presidents and Vice Presidents in all, so the meeting had to be taken in the corpulent boardroom, built only to intimidate (= status).
The Pooleys, the creators of
I Love My Urban Buddies
(their inspired, never-made-it-to-the-page spin-off to
I Love My Rural Buddies
, an idea the Pooleys came up with after watching a
Beverly
Hillbillies
marathon one
Thanksgiving), confabbed
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without delay in a tiny cof-
feehouse built only for exclu-
CONFAB:
To sound important in
unusually big or small spaces.
sivity (= status). Their first
instinct was to insist that ei-
ther one or the other one of
them direct the next three
episodes. Unfortunately, their previous direction gigs were on an animated show. As much as they wanted their Buddies to be animated, regrettably they were living, breathing humans, dammit. Their second instinct was to get high. Their third instinct kicked in while they were attempting to guzzle triple espressos: maybe they could get some mileage out of Jasper’s death, with the right spin. And if they made nice-nice with the network, they might be able to get rid of Kirk R o b b y
