"Goddamnit! I hate this stupid hat!" Larry Fujimoto threw the offending accessory down on the spotless white tile floor, where his coworker immediately scooped it up and carefully brushed it off, as if he had defiled a sacred artifact.
"Hey, watch the goods," he said, carefully putting it back on Larry's sweat-slicked head. "Remember, it's all you'll be wearing for the-"
"Like hell. That damn tie-off thing, whatever it is, in the back – it itches my neck so goddamn much! I'm not going through this whole thing wearing it! And the cape. The stupid cape. It's too warm, I swear I'm sweating all my piss out. Who does this kid think he is, fucking Batman?"
"He doesn't speak like that, Larry…"
"I don't fucking care!"
"And the cape's an heirloom…"
"I don't. Fucking. Care."
"Cripes, Larry, relax, would you?"
Larry's face was so red it was almost purple. "Cripes, Gene? Cripes!? Don't you ever get out of character for one lousy second?"
"Don't you ever get in?" Gene raised an eyebrow. "We're due in five. Better get it together. I'm more cool and collected than you are, and it's me that's supposed to be the emotional one."
Ms. Stern poked her head in the door, squinting at them against the bright lights. "How's everything coming along?" she asked.
"Copacetic, dollface," Gene assured her.
Larry rolled his eyes. "Gene…what the hell? Come on. Modern English. Please?"
Ms. Stern seemed pleased with Gene, however, and a smile came to her lips. "Ducky," she replied in equal Jazz Age style. Larry groaned as if in physical pain.
Ms. Stern's cell phone beeped, and she pulled it out and flipped it open. Her brow furrowed as she read the text message. "Well, you've got more time to practice," she said, flipping it closed and dropping it in her purse. "The cat just took a whiz on the rickshaw."
"And that's supposed to be my centuries-old spirit companion, right?" said Larry. "Smooth."
"We've got the prop team on it. You've got ten." She turned to leave, but looked over her shoulder. "Oh, check your makeup, Larry."
"Huh…?" Larry turned around to look at his reflection in the dressing room mirror, and rolled his eyes. "Ugh. This is so stupid." He turned and called into the adjacent room, "Alice, I've got a sideburn falling off, here!"
"Be right there," a high-pitched voice called back.
With a dejected sigh, Larry plopped into one of the swivel seats, laying his head in his hands on the makeup counter. "Gene, I swear to God, I'm fucking ready to call it quits…"
