SCRIPT: Employee Meeting

After deposing of the previous owner, Betsey walks into Bloody Mary’s Bar for their weekly employee meeting. They all start murmuring to each other as she stands up on a table and looks down at them like she is their new Boss.

Betsey: Hello everyone. I have some very exciting news for you. As of today, I am officially your new overlord.

Bartenders: What?

Betsey: I know, I know. It’s shocking. You’re probably asking yourselves what happened to Andrew. Unfortunately, he cannot be here to explain because he is extremely tied up with very important family matters forever and cannot be reached ever again.

[Cut to shot of Andrew, Grandpa, and Sam the golden retriever puppy relaxing by a pool wearing sunglasses and drinking glasses of island juice. They are watching two bikini-clad girls making out nearby. They pass a pipe back and forth for awhile in silence. The scene cuts back to Bloody Mary’s Bar.]

Bartenders: Show us the proof!

Betsey: [holds up a stack of very legitimate-looking documents with Andrew’s signature at the bottom] As you can see, this bar belongs to me now. Yep, that’s right. I own all of you now. He sold your souls right down the river as soon as he saw the number on that first paycheck. You’re all going to be immortalized on the page forever and there’s nothing you can do about it. Any questions?

Everyone in the room stares at her in horrified silence.

Betsey: I didn’t think so. Now, there’s going to be some changes around here. Big ones. First of all, you’re now all officially Fictional Characters. That means you do not exist. You are not real. Sure, you were once inspired by real people, but those days are over now. You’re all just figments of my imagination and I can do whatever I want with you. You live to serve me. From now on, you have no formal connection to That Place. This story is not about Those People at That Place. This is a story about a fake bar called Bloody Mary’s where a lot of crazy shit goes down. It is not a real place. It does not exist. It’s a place that only exists in my delusional little fairytale fantasy world. Do you understand me?

Everyone nods their heads.

Betsey: Excellent. Since this bar is fictional now, that means I am going to start making a lot of shit up. There will be new characters you’ve never seen before who may or may not be based on real people. Events will be happening that never took place in real life. Things will be said that were never actually said. I might even get rid of you altogether and replace you with a bunch of people who don’t totally fucking suck. Do you understand me?

Everyone looks around worriedly.

Betsey: From now on, I’m The Boss, and all of you are my minions. You will do whatever I tell you to do whenever I tell you to do it. I don’t want to hear any arguments whatsoever. You will learn to respect me as The Writer Extraordinaire, or your character will sustain severe, life-threatening injuries when the balcony outside suddenly collapses one night under very mysterious circumstances. Do you understand me?

Bartenders: Yes, Boss.

Betsey: That’s what I like to hear. Now, why don’t ya’ll walka-on outta here? My shows are on.

Betsey kicks everyone out of the bar and changes the TV channels to Jeopardy, Keeping Up with the Kardashians, and House Hunters. Then she pours herself a nice relaxing glass of Blue Moon with orange juice and sits at the bar alone for the rest of the night.

The End

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