Current Issue

Home

Gary R. Hoffman taught English and Speech/Drama for 22 years in Missouri and California. He quit teaching over 20years ago to go into business for himself. He now lives in a motor home and says, “Home is where you park it!” He now travels the North American Continent, with Sandy and their cat, Callie, and attempts to stay in moderate climates. He has had many short stories published in anthologies, ezines, and magazines. He has also won many awards for his short stories.

Fire Wes Harland by Gary R. Hoffman

"I really don’t give a damn how you do it, get the little bastard fired!"

"Look, Konrad, you know I can’t do that."

Konrad leaned forward in his chair and glared at his agent, Leroy Green. His knuckles were white from gripping the arms of the makeup chair. His face was red and veins were sticking out of the side of his neck. He was now speaking through clinched teeth. "Leroy, ABC paid me a shitload of money to take this role and save the Sunday time slot for them. I came out of retirement to save their ass. I’m the star of this series. Me, Konrad Kohn! Konrad Kohn! You hear that?"

Leroy answered in a disgusted manner. He’d heard all of this before. "Yes, Konrad, I’m well aware of that. I know you saved the time slot. I know what they paid you. I know everything you’re saying is true. But remember, you okayed hiring him to play the part of your butler for the show. No one knew what was going to happen. You’re still the star! None of us expected him to be that good in the part. It turns out Wes Harland is just a damned good actor."

"Right now, he’s getting more fan mail than I am. From the last poll taken, more people watch the show because of him than because of me!" Konrad sat back in his chair and poured another glass of Chivas Regal. He picked up the glass and drained about half of it in one swallow. He set the glass down and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Don’t you think you ought to cut down a bit on the drinking, too?"

Konrad spun around to face him. "Now you gonna start telling me how to run my life? You’re not the first agent I’ve ever had, and you won’t be the last. Keep it up, and you’ll be gone tomorrow."

"Keep up the sauce, and you won’t be far behind me. Konrad, the producers know your drinking is affecting your performances. Why do you think they keep writing scripts where Wes has bigger roles?"

"Look, I’ll make you a deal. You get rid of the little prick, and I’ll quit drinking!"

"You really think you could do that?"

"In a heartbeat!"

Leroy stood up to leave. "I’ll talk to the producers, but I can’t make any guarantees."

"That’s all I’m asking."

Leroy left, and Konrad poured another Chivas. He sat looking at the beautiful brown liquid and spun it around in his glass. He suddenly set it on his makeup table and opened a drawer. He snapped on a pair of surgical gloves the makeup people used. From another drawer, he extracted five .45 caliber shells from a small box and put them in his pocket. He left his dressing room and walked to the set where the crew was winding up for the day and preparing for taping tomorrow. He kept his hands in his pockets. "Evening, Mr. Kohn," one of them said.

"Evening. Getting ready for tomorrow morning?"

"Yep. We have to be ready by seven, or we catch hell."

Konrad smiled as he watched the crew engrossed in getting everything in order for taping the closing scene in the morning. In the closing scene, a deranged man was supposed to wound his butler with an old .45 pistol. Konrad opened the prop cabinet and took out the pistol. He then loaded his shells in place of the blank cartridges and put the .45 back in the cabinet. He dropped the gloves and the blanks in the trash and whistled his way back to his dressing room for another Chivas.

THE END