Television Romance

Hugo

INT. WRITING ROOM FIVE - DAY

Hugo was stout, with sandy brown hair and a short beard. He was older, probably mid-thirties like Sam. His face kind of reminded Vian of a toad, wide with wide-set eyes. She wasn't sure if that was rude, but it was true. At the moment they first met, he had on a pale yellow button-up with short sleeves. And his room was filled with ducks. Wooden carvings of them, various sizes and colors, covered at least half the surface area of his desk. On the walls, there were pictures of them. On the room's couch, this one the brown of used coffee filters, was a throw pillow shaped like a duck.

He was from Connecticut, he informed her, and he had the accent to match. It was a bit jarring, hearing the accent she typically associated with golfing snobs and rich frat boys (and her fianceé) from the man she saw in front of her.

He was from Connecticut. His name was Hugo. That was her seat. That was what he said to her, and in that order.

"So what are we supposed to do now?" she had asked him hesitantly once she was more or less settled. He had sat down and was staring at something on his computer monitor.

"We write," he said.

"Until when?"

"Sketches are due ten Wednesday morning." Okay. It was 5:00 p.m. Monday afternoon. Vian pulled up a blank document on her computer and let her fingers rest on the keys, unsure of how to proceed. She knew how to write a sketch, but not for this show. And not alone in a weird duck shrine with a strange man who spoke in sentences of ten words or less. After a minute of silence, Hugo spoke.

"You can write with other people too."

"Oh?" Vian said, nervously smoothing her long black hair over her shoulders. She wasn't sure if that was advice or some passive-aggressive signal to get her out of the room.

"What are you going to write about?" she asked.

"I write alone," Hugo said quickly.

"Oh. I didn't- I was just curious."

"Owls," he said, tone a little softer, "Owls."

"Hm. You like birds?" She scanned the room.

"No, why?"

Vian opened her mouth and closed it several times, glancing around the room.

"That was a joke," Hugo said.

"Oh!" Juliet laughed. This was going to be an interesting relationship.

~~~~~

INT. WRITING ROOM FOUR - DAY

"What's the difference between a blackbird and a crow?" Jules asked her one-man audience in Four.

"They're different birds," Jerry said offhandedly.

"That's very helpful, Rennels. Remind me to nominate you for MVP this year."

"They don't give MVP awards to writers."

"Are you instead vying for the position of Captain Obvious?"

"Hey, if you want a real answer, ask the internet."

"Maybe I should go check on Vian."

"Procrastinating," Jerry asserted. It was four in the morning on Wednesday, hours before the deadline. Juliet had written a real sketch, but had yet to complete her dreaded, host-pandering crow sketch. A half-hearted attempt sat unedited in front of her on the monitor.

"Or Bill. I should make sure he hasn't gotten into a fistfight with Michael. It's going to happen one of these days, I swear."

"What's the opposite of a leprechaun?" Jerry asked.