"I will, sir."
"Now, about these scripts: I hear they're fantastic; I am not reading them," Geoff fastened Chaz with a serious stare.
"Good lord, of course not! I don't even think I can read anymore. Ever since I blacked out in the bathrooms at Beso and woke up next to that crying gypsy woman, I can only hear letters as notes of music."
"I think this is the new Step Up script."
"Ha ha, fantastic, Chaz! Gypsy literacy curses!"
"Well, either that or I had her fuck me in a place that permanently deformed the language center of my brain. Either way is good. It killed some time."
"You're jaded and horrible and diseased and I am rewarding you for it! Janice!" Geoff screeched into the intercom. "Gypsy literacy curses! Buy Chaz a fucking house for me."
"And burn it down," Chaz added blithely.
"AND IMMEDIATELY BURN THAT MOTHERFUCKER TO THE GROUND. Are we understood?!"
"Absolutely, sir. Another Turn and Burn for Mr. Blazer. Right away."
"So give me the gist on these," Geoff continued, scattering the papers spitefully throughout the air.
"Right-o: First up, a heartwrenching story of love and loss. It's about a jaded expatriate meeting and falling in love with a desperate woman in the heart of war-torn Africa in the late 1930s."
"I'm not...unintrigued. What is this a remake of?"
"It's ah..." Chaz flipped to the remake credits. He sat speechless, his mouth agape, "there's nothing here!"
"I'm not following you. What are you saying?" Geoff attempted to thrust himself upward from his chair using only his arm muscles. Several rapid, awkward flops later, and he was on his feet.
"It's not a remake of anything!"
"Insanity! Blackhearted insanity! Where did this idea come from then? Thin fucking air?! The son of a bitch who wrote this is either a thief or a magician, and I will not abide witchcraft. Next!"