Note from Author: Thank you as always for the reviews-though, it does scare me somewhat that people are actually reviewing because this is whole story is just so insane. Anyhow, I hope to get the entire cast in! And enjoy more of my bizarre mind--

CHRISTIAN BALE: THE COWBOY

::Location: 1991 in an airy room on the bottom level of a building in the Universal Studios lot. Behind a fold out table sits Kenny Ortega and random others. Miscellaneous sheets of paper and 8 x 10 headshots adorn the tabletop::

::Ortega sits, very agitated, as Woman sews up his torn short::

Ortega (testily): Damn Disney! You mean that they won't even provide me with another shirt?

::Woman shakes head as she continues sewing::

Ortega: Well, they could at least be a little bit more kindly! After all, I am the man that is responsible for THEIR end-all be-all of musicals. (Becomes more dramatic, leaping off chair, needle and string still dangling from shirt) My vision-

Random others: A vision!

::Ortega leaps onto table, causing headshots to be scattered about::

Ortega: God told me that I was to create a new musical that would be the end-all be-all of musicals! Take what I created in Dirty Dancing and add-

Random others: Yes? Yes?

Ortega: PELVIC THRUSTS!

::Woman interrupts Ortega as he is about to demonstrate::

Woman: Kenny, perhaps you want to wait until the next kid comes in?

::Ortega ponders::

Ortega (shrugging): All right.

::Ortega once again takes a seat and rummages through headshots, picking up Christian Bale's::

Ortega: Who's this kid?

Woman: That's Christian Bale.

Ortega: Christian Bale-

::Ortega gasps audibly, causing others in the room to regard him as though he is insane::

Ortega (tears coming to his eyes, pointing to headshot): Don't you dare tell me that you don't see that?

Woman: Err-

::Ortega irritably reaches over to man next to him and pulls pen out of his breast pocket::

Ortega: This!

::He proceeds to draw a rather sloppy cowboy hat atop Christian's head::

::Woman takes headshot in her hands and twists it this way and that, wearing an expression of perplexion::

Ortega: Well?

Woman: Well what?

Ortega (breathlessly): Do you agree?

Woman (confused): Agree that---he looks better with black hair?

Ortega (angrily, ripping picture from her grasp and pointing at hat): No, you ninny! With the hat!

Woman: Oh, that's a hat?

Ortega: Of course it's a hat! What the hell else did you think it was-

Woman: I don't know, Kenny, I mean you do have that sort of abstract quality to you-

Ortega (interrupting her): DON'T YOU SEE? HE'S OUR COWBOY?

Woman: Our Cowboy?

Ortega: YES! God gave me the vision-

Woman: But don't cowboys live in Texas?

Ortega: (stunned at he question): Yes-I don't know!

Woman: Oh. Then why is he living in New York?

Ortega: Christ almighty! He's not a REAL cowboy! He's infatuated with being ONE!

Woman: Oh.

::Ortega has been seduced into a horrid mood, now grumbling under his breath at the Woman unwittingly "deconstructing" his vision::

::There is a set of knocks at the door, and it opens. Ann-Margret appears with great air and enters with a flourish::

Ann-Margret: Hello, newsies! High times, hard times some times de living is sveet and sometimes zere's nothing to eat but I always land on my feet-

::A phone has appeared on the table in front of Ortega::

Ortega (in a low voice in phone): Security? Yes, it appears that one of those crazy people have gotten loose again from that damn insane asylum that they just had to build across from the lot. Yes, she's a woman-I think- who is serenading us-

Woman (interrupting Ortega): Kenny, that's not an escaped patient. That's Ann-Margret.

Ortega: Excuse me?

Woman (nodding): Yes, Ann-Margret.

Ortega: Who the hell is Ann-Margret?

Ann-Margret: I am Ann-Margret!

::Ortega regards her::

Ortega: You, Ann-Margret?

Ann-Margret: Yes, Ann-Margret, Sex Kitten of de '60's!

Ortega (laughing): Well, then, honey, you might want to invest in a time machine to take you back to your kitten days because now you are only a tom cat like the ones that sit one people's back fences at night and yowl and yowl until they get hit with a boot.

Ann-Margret: Yah, I vas in Bye, Bye Birdie.

::Ortega is about to pick up receiver and call for security when the door suddenly bangs open, hitting Ann-Margret and rendering her unconscious. She falls to the floor in a heap. Christian Bale enters, looking bewildered and disheveled. His hair is askew, his shirt ripped, and his pants unbuttoned. His breathing heavy and labored, he suddenly slams door behind him, pressing all his weight against it::

::The entire room regards him peculiarly::

Christian (breathlessly): What the HELL is that thing out there?

::Ortega is rendered speechless by the sudden appearance of his Cowboy that Woman responds::

Woman: What thing?

Christian (in high voice): That-that THING out there! I mean, one minute I was walking down the hall to audition and the next thing I know I'm on the floor with this thing on top of me and its just ripping at me-

Woman: Was it a wild dog?

::Ortega finally breaks out of his stupor::

Ortega (lazily): No, it was most likely the nymphomaniac.

::Christian is still with his back to door, obviously holding an unknown object at bay as it hurls itself against the door::

Christian (stunned): The NYMPHOMANIAC?

::Ortega rises out of his seat and crosses room, prying Christian off the door and cracking it open. Ele Keats is indeed outside, prepared to ram herself against the door once more::

Ortega (sternly): Ele?

::Ele halts and lifts her head. Shame washes over her face::

Ele: Mr. Ortega!

Ortega (unsympathetic): I thought you were a reformed nymphomaniac!

Ele (breaking down): Oh, Mr. Ortega, I am I am! It's just-

Ortega: I gave you a role in my movie in hopes that it would help you. But then you go and try to have your way with MY Cowboy? How could you do such a thing?

Ele (sobbing): Oh, Mr. Ortega, I couldn't help it! I saw him and just felt sheer lust-

Ortega (sternly): Now, you sit here and think of what you have done and when you are ready you can apologize to Cowboy and perhaps be reinstated to my vision.

Ele: Yes, Mr. Ortega!

::Ortega slowly shuts the door and returns to his seat::

Ortega: Now, I am very, truly sorry for that display, Christmas-

Christian: Christian.

Ortega: Pardon?

Christian: It's Christian.

Ortega: Right. You CAN come away from the door.

::Christian reluctantly pulls himself away from the door and shuffles to the middle of the room::

Ortega: And you may zipper up your pants.

Christian (embarrassed): Oh, right.

Ortega: Now, that that is all settled, Christmas-

Christian: Christian.

Ortega: Whatever. I would like to inform you that you've won the role.

Christian (stunned): What? The role? I-I haven't even auditioned!

::Ortega motions to Ann-Margret, who still is laying unconscious on the floor::

Ortega: Yes, but you knocked her out.

Christian: Right-so, this is the casting for that new Steven Spielberg movie, right?

::Ortega and Woman exchange glances::

Ortega (wearing deceivingly broad smile): Why, yes, it it!

Christian (grinning at his good fortune): And, and you're like his assistant or something right?

Ortega: Precisely!

Christian (approaching Ortega): Awh, wow, this is so wonderful! Mr. Spielberg is so wonderful to work with! I can't wait to work with him again!

::Woman is about to confide in him the truth, yet Ortega steps down hard on her foot, causing her to bite her tongue. He pulls out a contract and a pen:: Ortega: All you need to do is sign here.

::Christian readily picks up pen and signs the first letters of his name, yet stops and looks at Ortega::

Christian (warily): Shouldn't I read this first?

Ortega: What for? It's just like all the other contracts-all that legal mumbo jumbo that is dirty work for people like us and not actors like yourself. Now, just finish signing and you will be guaranteed a lead in Mr. Spielberg's new movie.

Christian: With out an audition or screen test or anything?

Ortega: Oh, come now, Mr. Bale, you are much too advanced for silly trivial trifles like auditions. You are Mr. Spielberg's muse.

::A smile lights up Christian's face as he readily signs the contract::

Christian (under breath): Mr. Spielberg's muse, huh?

::A devilish smile crosses Ortega's face once Christian has signed his name::

Ortega: Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Bale-

Christian: Oh, no, thank you Mr.-

Ortega: Kelly. Jack Kelly.

Christian: Well, thanks Mr. Kelly.

::Ortega laughs at his own asinine joke::

Christian: Did I miss something?

Ortega (collecting himself): Oh, no, I was just recalling a prior incident.

Christian: Right-well, I guess I better be going-

Ortega: Of course.

::Christian heads for door yet stops as he witnesses Ann-Margret laying in a heap in front of it::

Christian: Ah-

Ortega: Oh, her? Just push her out of the way.

::Christian warily opens the door, it slowly opens, sliding Ann-Margret along the floor with it. He sets a foot out of the threshold when he spies Ele still sobbing on the ground. She gazes up at him, and reaches her hands up to his arm::

Ele (wailing): Oh, Cowboy! I'm so truly sorry! I don't know what got into me! I'd been behaving myself but you just stirred up all my sexual urges once more! Oh, forgive me!

::She peers her head in through open door::

Ele: Was that good, Mr. Ortega?

::Ortega nods his head::

::Christian turns over his shoulder to view Ortega::

Christian: Mr. Ortega? I thought you said your name was Mr. Kelly?

::Ortega rises from his chair and ushers Christian out the door::

Ortega (lazily): Oh, did I? Well, it must be that my American accent sounds foreign to your ears since you are so used to your dialect.

Christian: That has nothing to do with it-

::Shutting door behind him::

Ortega: Don't call us, we'll call you.

::Ortega shuts the door behind Christian. Ele is heard shrieking and carrying on. She had apparently grasped onto Christian's leg as he is stumbling down the hallway::

Christian (voice muffled by closed door): What the hell? Get the hell off me!

Ele (shrieking, also muffled by door): No, Cowboy, no! I LOVE YOU! LET ME HAVE YOUR CHILD!

::A scuffle is heard and then a loud thud as Christian is brought down to the floor by Ele::

::Ortega, wearing a listless expression, wipes his hands together and returns to his seat::

Woman: Kenny, you are such a bastard.

Ortega: I know, I know. But you saw how scared the kid was by the nymphomaniac. If he read the script and found out that she was his love interest, he would have never taken the role. But not (produces sighed contract) HE IS MINE! CHRISTMAS-

Woman: Christian. Ortega: CHRISTIAN BALE IS MINE!!! HE IS MY COWBOY! MY JACK KELLY! MY FRANCIS SULLIVAN!

Woman: But what about the accent?

Ortega (suddenly deflated): What about it?

Woman: Well, how can he be a cowboy and have that accent?

Ortega: Ah, fuck it, that's what dialect coaches are for.

::Ortega turns gaze skyward::

Ortega: GOD, AM I FUFULLING YOUR VISION CORRECTLY? AM I? YOUR FIRST MUSICAL SINCE JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR?

::Cue crickets::

Ortega: Well-

::Gaze falls to Ann-Margret. He places a hand on the phone, debating whether not to call Security. He finally dials::

Ortega: Yes, Security? Where the hell are you? That escaped mental patient is still up here! I single handedly knocked her unconscious but Heaven knows what could have happened! She could have killed us all!

::Security does not reply to this::

::Ortega slams the receiver down::

Ortega: Stupid bastards. (sighs) Who's the next kid?

Woman: Aaron Lohr.

Ortega (under breath): Aaron Lohr-

::Ortega picks up Aaron Lohr's headshot. A devious smile crosses his face.::

Ortega: Hi, there, please state your name!