The office door opened and a thin man accompanied by a young boy stepped in. “Jon! Charles! What can I do for you?” Paul asked.

“We’ll get straight to the point,” the man said. “We want better parts.”

“Better parts?”

“Don’t play stupid. We’re tired of being the butt of all the jokes. All I do is complain about my sexless life and feed that goddamn cat lasagna every day. I’m sick of it.”

“We’re both sick of it,” the balding boy yelled. “If that bitch pulls that football away from me one more time, I swear to God…”

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“You damn well better, or we walk. I’m tired of this shit. I want a full week of Nermal strips. Remind everyone there’s a character more hated than me.”

“And I want more scenes with the little red-headed girl. And it better go somewhere. I want a kiss, full tongue, none of this on-the-cheek bullshit.”

“Make it happen,” the man said, and the two stormed out of the office. Paul sat in shocked silence. The business sure had changed.

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