Film Course Year Two Day Five

There weren't many lectures during the first week, and most of the practical and specialist workshops were cancelled due to threatening letters from an anonymous source. Taking that into account, the guest lecture may not have been the success it was originally declared to be.

I took my friend up on an offer to get something to eat come Friday, and he asked me for some help assessing the script. I was a bit distracted by my meal, so I mainly discussed the font and nodded while he talked. Swiftly after finishing I recieved a call from my Producer Jake, who'd set up a meeting with the entire cast and crew.

Stepping into the Studio we'd arranged to meet in, I noticed that the whole place was exceptionally smokey. Looking back down the corridor I'd just walked down, the walls seemed unusually ablaze. I shrugged it off and sat down, checking my watch and humming while I waited for everyone else to turn up. After a minute my phone rang, Jake out of breath.

"Hey, they think the fire was started by that crazy Danny Gl..."

"...Where are you guys? I'm sitting here waiting."

"Wait... what do you mean you're sitting there waiting? We were going to meet in the studio, the entire place is on fire!"

"Alright Jake, but in future you could tell me these things before the meeting." As I finished the sentence I saw a naked Danny Glover step into the room, empty vodka bottle in one hand as he chuckled to himself.

"Get out of there!"

"Jake I'll talk to you later, bye." I put my phone back in my pocket, Mr Glover strolling up towards me. I could appreciate why his dress sense was so well ventilated with the building heat in the studio, but it was a bit early in the day to be drinking. Also since the entire place was apparently on fire, I should probably make my way outside and take him with me.

As I stood up, one of the gas veins exploded, blocking the exit in rubble. Mr Glover suddenly leapt onto me, hugging tightly and bawling in tears. "Riggs... Riggs... I'm too old for this shit..." he spluttered.

I brushed back his thinning hair, mustering the most comforting smile I could think of. "Yippe-kai-yay-mother-fucker..." I whispered, swiftly remembering I'd got the wrong film as he edged away in horror.

"You're not Riggs... YOU'RE NOT RIGGS AT ALL," he screamed, pulling out a pistol. As I stood wondering where he'd pulled the weapon from on his butt naked form, he quickly unlocked the safety. "You're... you're that Dutch guy... YOU SHOT RIGGS!"

It was a tough situation but I think I knew how to handle it. "No dad, I'm your daughter Rianne." He took a short moment to take in this revelation, perhaps pondering why I wasn't a teenage black female, but I nodded reassuringly and his hostility broke away. He leapt onto me in another embrace.

"Baby... you're my baby." Then once again he snapped, pointing the gun to my jaw. "WHY'D YOU DO THAT DAMN CONDOM ADVERT, THE GUYS ON THE FORCE BEEN LEAVING RUBBERS IN MY DESK FOR WEEKS!"

I have to admit I hadn't seen this twist coming, and was pretty concerned till I finally realised he was holding a water pistol. Then again, humidity really fucks up my hair, so I decided to boot him into the flames. Almost about the pass out from smoke inhalation, I ran through the exit myself, my clothes quickly igniting. I took an immediate left and launched through the window of the nearby Technician's Office.

The day once again over, I boarded the bus home and patted out my smouldering rags.