Read Online Who Stole the Funny? : A Novel of Hollywood by Robby Benson - Free Book Online Page B

guard.
    William, the assistant director, came running into the room
    and made straight for the food, giving J.T. a quick, sincere, Hollywood air kiss on the way to the lox and bagels.
    “Damn you, J.T.!” William said over his shoulder. “Ten years
    and I’ve never beaten you to set. Do you know how demoralizing
    that is to an A.D.? During sex?”
    William had the most aggravating sense of humor. He basical-
    ly had one joke. He would add the words during sex or after sex to the end of almost every sentence to show how funny he could be.
    William never graduated from eighth-grade Funny.
    He was out of breath. He still had the body of an athlete but
    was starting to show his bad eating habits in the form of love handles and the beginnings of a double chin.
    “Hey—the more things change, the more things stay the same,
    huh?” J.T. said prophetically.
    “During sex!” William did a spit take—all over the food.
    6 0
    W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?
    J.T. threw a quick glance to Ash: Never trust this guy .
    William turned around. “Oh—Flash! Brown!” he said with his
    mouth full. “I see you’re here!”
    “Yeah . . . um . . . kind of hard to miss seeing me . . .” Ash said, trying to avoid looking at the blob of cream cheese in the corner of William’s mouth. “By the way,” Ash continued, “I know it’s been a while, but my name is A-S-H. Ash . Ash Black . If you actually look at me, it’s hard to forget my last name. And my first name.”
    “Oh my God! Did I call you Flash? I meant Ash. I was just with
    my personal trainer. His name is Flash. Or is it Cash? Ah, anyway, I’m so damn sorry,” William said sincerely. “But we’re dope, right, my nigga?” William did his best rap pose.
    J.T. spun, “Don’t you dare—”
    “It’s okay, J.T.,” Ash said calmly. “Dope?” He smiled at William.
    “I ain’t meanin’ ta act da fool, barkin’ on ya homey, dog,” Wil -
    liam said in his best urban-interact, form-a-relationship, connect-with-the-brothah lingo. He also now took the body language to
    a cartoon-like extreme, crossing his arms down by his groin and leaning to one side, almost losing his balance.
    “I guess you’re dope, then,” Ash politely said, trying not to make the fool more of a fool.
    William, happy with his urban result, went white again and
    turned to J.T. “I’m training for an over-thirty triathlon! Hey! What do you say to that? During sex?!” William pretend-punched J.T. in the stomach.
    J.T. grabbed William’s new love handles, not very playfully. “I’d say put less cream cheese on your bagel, triathlete-boy. And if you keep the during-sex joke going for the rest of the time I’m here, I will murder you in your sleep.”
    “Or during sex!”
    Even though the workweek hadn’t officially started, J.T. wanted to immediately remind his assistant director who the Alpha Dog
    was in the work equation. William’s posture instantly and notice-R o b b y
    B e n s o n
    6 1

    ably deflated when J.T. didn’t even pretend-smile. Mission accomplished, J.T. thought.
    “I quit smoking three weeks ago, s-so I’ve been substituting
    food for, for tobacco, but now I’m a triathloner!” William stammered, then smiled like a little kid waiting for approval from his dad.
    “Wow,” J.T. said,“that’s great. You stopped smoking three weeks ago and now . . . you are a triathlete ? Very impressive. When’s your first race?”
    “This Thursday,” William answered, sincerely.
    “Thursday? Thursday is camera-blocking day,” J.T. said, as if
    talking to a mentally challenged person. “What A.D. would not be at his post on camera-blocking day?”
    Camera-blocking day is the grueling day when all of the minu-
    tiae are worked out down to the millimeter. Colored pieces of tape are laid out all over the cement studio floor for the camera positions, which can number in the hundreds, and they coordinate
    with the hundreds of colored pieces of tape that are laid out on the set