John Scalzi - Agent to the Stars

"You have no idea," I said, and walked Michelle into my office to lie down on my couch. Michelle's reaction to her incredible imploding reading had passed beyond mere depression and moved into the region of pharmaceutically untreatable mental states. I urged her to take a nap before she went to have latex splotzed all over her face.

"That's terrible," Miranda said, after I recounted our little adventure. "I mean, I didn't think she was going to be good for the role, but what a way to flame out."

"If I were her hypnotherapist, I'd lie low for a couple of weeks," I said. "I don't think their next session is going to be very pleasant. Listen, did you find out anything more about what Carl wants?"

"I did," Miranda said, reaching for her notebook. "I went over to Marcella's desk and got the message. Here — apparently a stunt dog they have on this Bruce Willis film contracted a nasty case of mange, and they need a replacement for some shots they're doing this afternoon." She tore the page out of her notebook and handed it to me. "You're going to have to spend a lot of time in makeup, Tom."

"Hardy har," I said, taking the note. The film was shooting in Pasadena, which was helpful — it wasn't far from where I lived, and not all that far from Pomona, where Michelle was to have her face done. "It's not me. It's Joshua, the Wonder Pup."

"Isn't that the name of your friend that's always calling?" Miranda said.

"It is. Oddly enough, they look a lot alike, too. When am I supposed to be at the set?" I asked.

"You're supposed to go as soon as you can," Miranda said. "Which, I'd guess, means right now."

"Fine," I said. "Miranda, I'm going to need you to do something for me. You need to take Michelle to have her face done."

"I'm kind of busy here," Miranda said.

"Really," I said. "Doing what?"

"Answering phones?" Miranda ventured.

"Who's going to call? Carl isn't going to call, because I'm transporting his dog to the set. Michelle isn't going to call because she's going to be wrapped in latex. The only person who might call is Van Doren, and I don't want to talk to him, anyway."

"Hmrph," Miranda said.

"Is there a problem here, Miranda?" I asked.

Miranda scrunched up her face. "No. It's just that now that she's all depressed, I feel guilty for not wanting her to get the part. I forgot that she's a real person sometimes, and not just this thing that makes 12 million dollars for being perky. It annoys me to have pity for someone who makes more in a day than I'm going to make in a year."

"Try," I said. "I'm supposed to go with her, but I can't. You saw her, Miranda. She's definitely not in any condition to be by herself at the moment. She's certainly not in any condition to drive. I'm afraid in her state she'll zonk out on the 60, drive into opposing traffic and mangle herself on a semi. Look, as soon as I'm done with this other thing, I'll be there. And anyway, Michelle likes you. Thinks you like her too, for some strange reason. Could be a big bonding moment for you two."

"Hmrph," Miranda said again.

"Come on, Miranda," I said. "You're my assistant. Assist."

"Can I expense lunch?" Miranda asked.

"By all means. Expense dinner, too."

"Whoo-hoo," Miranda said. "Taco Bell, here I come."

"So," Joshua said. "Can I have my own trailer yet?"

"Not yet," I said. "but, look, you have your own water bowl."

"Man, that's the problem with being a dog," Joshua said. "The perks are just not there."

Joshua and I were waiting as the second unit crew of Bruce Willis' latest action spectacular set up their next shot. The first unit crew was in Miami, shooting on location with Willis and his costars. The second unit crew, meanwhile, was roaming around Los Angeles, shooting all the scenes the first unit didn't want to deal with: cut scenes, establishing shots, and, of course, scenes with dogs. Joshua was, in fact, the biggest star on the set that day.

In the space of less than one week, Joshua has become the most requested dog in Los Angeles film. It was the Mighty Dog commercial that did it: Joshua nailed it on the first take, no small feat in an industry where 30 seconds of animal action is often stitched out of twelve to fifteen hours of raw footage. This so stunned the director that he filmed the commercial twice just to cover his ass. Even with the extra take, the commercial was wrapped in two hours flat, saving the ad company about $200,000 in fees. The ad company tried to lock Joshua down to an exclusive contract before the commercial was done. I politely declined. Joshua peed on the company rep's shoes.

By the time we got back to the house, Al Bowen had gotten ten phone calls asking to get Joshua for a commercial. We let Bowen pick and choose the assignments; I got the distinct feeling that Bowen was using the opportunity to rack up some long-term favors. He wasn't such a genial hippie after all. Not that it bothered either Joshua or me. Joshua was having fun and I didn't mind hanging around a set, grazing off the craft service table and catching up on my reading.

Joshua especially liked hanging around with dogs now that he was one — when we weren't at a commercial set, we'd go to the beach or a park where he could go off, tail wagging, to meet and greet other members of the species. I suspected that his enthusiasm for other dogs probably came from poor Ralph, who had spent most of his life not in the company of other dogs, and was now making up for lost time. But then, since Joshua had been on Earth, most of his time had been spent alone as well. So maybe they were both making up for lost time.

The tendency for vicious gossip, however, was pure Joshua. "See that dog over there?" Joshua pointed out a German Shepherd with his muzzle. "It's my understanding that he was almost fired off the last set he was on because he just would not stop licking his genitals on camera."

"Stop it," I said. "What a horrible thing to say about your costar."

"Hey, I didn't start the rumor," Joshua said. "And anyway, it's true. I heard his trainer talking about it to another trainer while I was on set. From what I hear, off-camera, he runs through his paces perfectly. You couldn't ask for a better-trained dog. As soon as he hears the cameras running, though — bam, nosedive into the crotch. It's the sound of the cameras, I think. Such a good-looking dog too, you know. It's a real shame."

"You know, your gossip would be much more interesting if it were actually about human beings," I said.

"Maybe for you," Joshua said. "But I'm in the canine universe, Tom. It's a whole different ballgame down here. See that poodle? She's a tick carrier. Saw one on her when we were doing that scene near the trees. It was the size of a Jeep Cherokee, Tom. I was scared for myself."

"I don't think any of the other dogs would like you if they knew how you talked about them behind their backs."

"Well, that's just the point," Joshua said. "I can't very well tell any of them, now, can I? Language capability is a bitch, Tom."

"Pun intended, I'm sure."

"But of course."

Al Bowen picked that moment to walk up. "You sure spend a lot of time talking with that dog," he said.

"Well, I see you talking with your dogs, too," I said. "And with your other animals."

"I'm talking to my dogs," Bowen said. "You, on the other hand, talk like you're having a conversation. I can see you jabbering at Joshua from the other side of the set. I don't know how to break this to you, Tom. You may have the smartest dog in the world, but he still doesn't speak."

"Doesn't speak?" I said, feigning incredulousness. "Doesn't speak? Joshua, what's on top of a house?"

Joshua barked a bark that could have sounded like "roof," if one had enough to drink.