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Chapter 11: Of Booze, Cats, and Actors

"Use power for power! Use hate for freedom! Use money for cruelty! Use money for cruelty! Take control and keep it!"

- Swans, "Power for Power"




“Vivi. Vivi. Vivi. Come here. Vivi. Vivi. Vivi,” Gerald Seeioh, the president of the Grand Really Especially Excellently Delightful Film and Broadcast Production Company, or GREEDFABPC, leaned back in his chair in his sparsely decorated brutalist office. His corpulent mass was truly impressive. He cradled his black cat Oliver in his arms, petting it continuously. As he was looking admiringly at his cat, his nervous, uncomfortable-looking assistant Vivi Omoide shuffled into the room.

“Yes Mr Seeioh? What is it?”

“Have you seen the actors’ performance in this latest episode? Disgraceful. Peituplei’s will not sponsor us if they see that refuse. We cannot bear to lose another sponsor. Vivi. Vivi. Vivi.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know how I would improve this show?”

“No… how… how would you improve it, Mr Seeioh?” Vivi was trying very hard to sound like she didn’t think Gerald was completely insane, mainly out of fear for her life.

“I would improve it by getting better actors than the pieces of garbage we have performing currently. Remind me to fire them as soon as possible, Vivi.”

“Ok…”

“Write it down so you do not forget, Vivi. Write it down.” Gerald’s voice maintained a constant tone that he never broke from regardless of his current emotion. He also had a habit of not showing facial expressions and staying completely still, apart from petting his cat, which he did at almost all times.

“Ok, Mr Seeioh…”

“Vivi, do not forget. Oh, there they come now, my actors. Oliver, greet them.” Oliver meowed at the approaching thespians. “Come over here, actors.”

“Oh lord, not this again…” Ashley Molloy, the actor for Chimpanzee in the hit television show Super Gorilla Quest, said. “What, Mr Seeioh?” She, along with the other three actors, were all still wearing their ape outfits sans headwear, and frankly looked incredibly stupid.

“You are all worthless cogs in this machine and I will not hesitate to use your blood as lubricant for the other gears if you do not start acting better. Do it. Tell them, Oliver.” Oliver meowed at them. “This goes for all of you. Except for you, James, you did passably.” James Manhattan, the actor for Orangutan, gave a nervous thumbs up to this. “Ashley, Malone, Sean, you all make me sick. We need the sponsors for this. We need more money, do you understand? Do better or I will not hesitate to employ extreme force to get you out of here.”

“You know you could just fire us…” Sean Rorschach, the actor for Gorilla, said uncomfortably, while visibly trembling.

“I don’t agree with anything my other actors say and I take no responsibility for any aggravation they may give you, Mr Seeioh,” Malone Syro, Bonobo’s actor, said.

“All of you leave now. You have one more shot to impress me. Tell them, Oliver.” Oliver meowed. “Get away from me now.” The four actors shuffled out incommodiously. “Vivi.” Gerald turned toward his assistant again. “Vivi.”

“What is it, Mr Seeioh…?” She was constantly adjusting her glasses during this conversation as a nervous tic, which she did pretty much every time she talked to Gerald.

“Vivi. Get away from me too.”

“Ok…” she said as she walked away slowly, keeping her eyes on him until she closed the door to his office behind her. Gerald swiveled his chair around so his back was to his desk and, holding Oliver, continued to pet it. He looked out at the soulless cityscape through his window. “Oliver? Is there anything I can get you?” Oliver turned its red glowing eyes intently toward Gerald and opened its mouth, letting out a noise that sounded like a buzzsaw slicing through a hornet’s nest. “I am trying to get you more treats, Oliver. Please stop being so insistent about it. I am doing my best. I promise I will get you more food soon. You already have so much. Please just wait a few days and I will have more for you.” More buzzsaw noises. “I know. I am sorry. Let me get these sponsors, they will get me a giant stream of money, and I can buy you everything you need. Just…” More buzzsaw noises. “Can you stop doing that? Please? I… I am trying, Oliver.” More buzzsaw noises.

“Can you believe that fucking guy?” Ashley said to the other actors as they were having some drinks in the nearby watering hole, the Intoxicated Gibbon. “We were all clearly doing the best we could with that awful script.”

She took a sip of her beverage and looked over at Malone, who said “I don’t think he’s that bad, we are pretty awful actors… besides James of course.”

“I appreciate that,” James said, “but we all know you’re just agreeing with everything he says to avoid pissing him off. I really don’t understand what you hope to gain with that.”

“Alright,” Sean said, “I hate to play devil’s advocate here but he’s clearly got some anger issues and way more power and money than he should. He could easily do awful things to any of us if we got on his nerves too much. You ever hear about the Shareholder’s actor, what was his name again… Netley Gull?”

“Hm,” Ashley said, “I haven’t heard anything about him since he got replaced by that other guy, Lee Abberline, a few months back.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Sean said. “Let’s just leave it at that. He didn’t like Netley’s acting and did some… well, anyways, you all should try to stay on his good side.” Sean took a drink.

“I don’t understand why we have to work for that psycho in the first place! Why did we even sign up for this job?” The other three looked down for a minute and nervously fidgeted. “That… that was a rhetorical question, guys…”

“I, uh,” James said, “only remember getting the job… I don’t remember anything between first learning of the opening and coming to work for the first time… why did I sign up for this?” The other three quickly drank down a hypervolemic amount of booze. Ashley was asking the bartender, Ludmilla Zozanian, for a drink as another person sat down next to them at the counter. “I know why you all don’t remember,” she said.

“What? Who are you?” Malone asked.

“The name’s Trellis. Ellis Treleanor. Wait. Shit. Let me do that again. The name’s Ellis. Eletrell Norris. God damn it.”

“What?”

“I’m Eleanor Trellis ok? It wasn’t that hard to understand. Anyways, it’s that damn cat he’s always carrying around, Oliver I think was his name.”

“The cat?” Sean asked. “What do you mean?”

“The cat is definitely a wraith or ghoul or something. God knows it’s not a normal cat.”

“I always thought it seemed pretty normal,” Ashley said. “He is weirdly obsessed with it though.”

“That’s because it’s controlling his mind, and probably also yours!” Eleanor yelled, grabbing Ashley by the shoulders and violently shaking her. “Wake up! Your life is being ordered around by a devilcat!” Ludmilla was dialing the emergency number as this was happening, but Eleanor let up as she realized she looked like a psych ward patient to everyone else in the bar. “I know I sound crazy here-”

“You do,” James said.

“Please leave us alone,” Sean said. Ashley would’ve said something but she was too busy slamming back another drink to cope with whatever the hell she just experienced.

“Fine, but you’ll regret this when it kills you too…” she said as she dramatically got up, pushed the barstool in, and went to sit down at the table directly next to the actors.

“So she’s crazy right?” Ashley said, putting her drink down.

“Absolutely,” the other three said, or at least variants thereof.

“I’m not crazy, I tell you!” Eleanor said, again, within speaking distance. The actors ignored her and continued conversing. Back in Gerald’s office, Oliver purred, pleased that they didn’t suspect a thing. It could’ve been thinking that, but it also could’ve just been enjoying being pet, it was hard to tell.