Chapter Text
“Mystery Board #572”
“Cartoons”
“New sitcom?”
“Bring back western”
“Reality TV!”
Today’s brainstorming session’s topics. Other notes, barely legible, are written around them on the whiteboard. Are they from last week? Is the marker running out of ink?
The main cast of the TV crew is gathered in what could be called a conference room. Bright colored walls covered in stars, shiny orange floor tiles, fluorescent lights. A fun room for serious business.
Alright folks, next topic.
Tenna claps his hands.
I thought last season was gonna be the last one? Didn’t the main character die?
Yes, but... come on, it’s a classic, people like it! We could revive the main character. Do a prequel. Hell, we could start a brand new series!
Maybe we could try a different genre?
No.
Despite being told to speak their mind, rare are the Pippins and Shadowguys who will have the confidence to do so. Even Elnina and Lanino stayed quiet for this long pause.
I think it’s [best in town!] to stick to the original story, we don’t have time to write completely [brand new] characters.
Ahem... speaking of time...
Looks like someone had enough confidence for that.
Tenna glances at the clock above the door, listening to a message relayed to him through his antennas. He sighs, dismissing the crew.
Fine, leave. I’ll finish this.
Spamton exhales the fumes of his cigar.
I’ll stay behind too.
It’s getting late. The floor is empty and quiet.
Reality TV. We haven’t done this one before.
I’ve heard it’s [Most popular!]. We could try it.
Tenna and his partner are the only ones left. They stare at the whiteboard as they discuss, maybe hoping if they stare enough, the ideas will come to them.
People stranded on an island trying to survive?
We don’t have the budget.
A cooking competition?
Could be an option.
Hm... how about something romantic?
Like what?
Spamton breaks away from the board to look at Tenna.
We get a group of people stuck together. It never fails, something always happens.
And where do we stick them?
Come on, you’re not helping.
I [give it your all] for the western. I have nothing left.
Even Spamton is getting tired. The coffee’s of no help now.
Just imagine. Where would you like to be stuck with a pretty lady? Let me see...
And he means it literally. Leaning back in his chair, Tenna’s face disappears to display footage from a variety of reality TV shows. While he fastforwards through them, Spamton considers his question. He imagines,
Perhaps at home...
He sees himself dressing the table while Tenna cooks in the kitchen. Sitting on a couch together, watching a movie. Talking about how bad the plot and actors are, so bad it becomes funny.
Looks like the most common option is to keep them inside a beautiful villa.
It didn’t take Tenna more than a few minutes of reviewing.
We should come up with something more [refreshing new feeling] instead of settling for the common option.
I didn’t watch a lot of shows from this genre, I’d have to spend more time on that. What do you say we end there for today?
Sounds good to me.
Spamton turns off the light from his office and closes the door behind him. He’s ready to leave. On his way to the exit, he walks through the Green Room, where Tenna sits on the couch, alone, in the dark. Despite having his back to him, Spamton could guess he was following up on what he said he was going to do, given the faint light coming from his screen.
He sits beside him and waits, tired and unnoticed.
It’s so quiet.
So dark.
Is it lonely?
Spamton is sitting just inches away, Tenna’s arm right beside him. He’s close. So close he could lean against it.
Need something?
Tenna smiles at him.
Oh, no, just wanted to say bye.