How to Get Your Big Break in Hollywood

If lovely Dr. Maya has cast you in her reality show, Nootropics Makeover, and you’re already in what bald producer Howard (not Blood or Crip muscle, worse: a segment producer) considers your home environment of Skid Row, they’ll want viz for the introductory sizzle-reel depicting your craven desperation preceding Dr. Maya’s intervention.

One: “So…kicked in the teeth. Right…in…the…chompies, ” Dr. Maya tapping a pen against her own gleaming centrals, “That’s bad. Nightmare scenario for most folks. How to recreate the attack, Howard?”

Two: If Howard rolls his eyes, he knows normative colonialist instinct entitles Maya to suggest he don a dark hoodie and pose as the perpetrator while using his bygone experience as a former WCW Power Plant trainee to deliver some stiff-looking kicks to your kisser.

Three: If Howie and tent-property management negotiations don’t escalate beyond pushing, a petty cash-deal can be reached. Repose upon your repossessed tent-cloth before a two-camera setup.

Four: If Howie was trained by one of the best, Paul Orndorff, don’t even wince as he delivers perfectly-believable kicks to your maw without making a pascal-of-impact per mouth millimetre.

Five: Toast kale smoothies in Maya’s van. Note the flirtacious-look Maya shoots Howard, her likely means of controlling Howard. If external omniscience(s) call the shots now anyway, figure said omniscience(s) could certainly be calling them through a less winsome vessel than Dr. Maya had they wished to be jerks about it.

Six: “Before your treatment begins, we’d love to film as you go about your day. Grifting for change. Stealing from the Wal-Mart. Whatever you’d normally think is fun. What were your plans for today? Grovelling? Shooting deadly street drugs, intravenously? I hear they shoot Wellbutrin now and it leaves big craters in the brachium. Not shooting Wellbutrin yet? Maybe didn’t even know that was an option? Forget I said that. First do no harm, lol. Shooting one of the scarier research chemicals? Bath salts? And then biting up a face? Spice? Spice would be interesting. None of the contestants have done spice yet. ” – Dr. Maya Achlys-Septis, chewing an Achlys-Septis-brand Scurry™ capsule containing a non-therapeutic amount of L-theanine and 1000 mg of caffeine.

Seven: “Was heading to ol’ Frisco to reunite with my wife; my child, Marcel_Proust; Ronald Majthenyi: emissary of the Infernal Serpent; and then reuniting with the girl on that billboard, vexatious Britannica, whose own makeover I’d arranged to make her look more like my murdered sister. Once that’s all settled, back to grey old Sault Sainte Maire and Alan Raval’s garroting, Alan being responsible for the deadly sexual asphyxiation of my aforementioned sister, who was the love of my life, incidentally. ”

Eight: If Maya greases the skids of your looming abandonment by saying, “Yuck, delusional. Some n-acetyl-cysteine might help with neuronal regeneration. And don’t think just because you’re delusional that you don’t have a role in this production. We’ve already invested in you to the extent that Howard had to pay those men anyway, so there’s definitely room on the b-roll, ” then blow Maya’s mind by revealing a tooth-intensive picture of yourself holding hands with Britannica.

Nine: If Maya’s stunned expression and mega-watt smile indicate she’s a big fan of Singing Competition, breathe in an Achlysian-Septisian beauty more efficacious than all the Bacopa Monieri in the Bay of Bengal.

Ten: And then see it, between Dr. Maya’s breasts, where you’d been looking: the fish symbol, ΙΧΘΥΣ, the one that got Philip K. Dick in so much trouble, and so irked the Early Roman Kings, meaning that if you aren’t at the gates of the Black Iron Prison, then you are mired in enough drug-induced psychosis that things should at least get progressively interesting.