The Daily Blog of Your's Truly! {COMPLETED, SEQUEL RELEASED}

In the Flesh?

"... We came in."
The tour guide manager finishes his sentence, opening the door and showing the new recruits the film studio they were soon going to be working in themselves.

Everything was quite peaceful. A small, cute tune hummed on the back radio while everyone was preparing for the director to enter the room. It was a nice setting, really.

They were going to like it here... Or so they thought.

The lights flickered off as the door in the back slammed open, drums battering in the back with a loud, blaring guitar and keyboard.

The director stared at the employees before him, his eyes narrowing and a intimidating sneer crossing his lips.

They were all cowering right now, their eyes wide and their bodies quivering as if a mouse came across a cobra ready to strike.

He continued to glare, his brunette locks brushing against his shoulders. The director took his first step, then the mood got darker and even more twisted.

Each step he took was like a loud bang. The recruits had never been more confused. Why was he so... So... So scary?

Suddenly, after his threatening walk of doom, the director's look softens. The lights flicker into a dull color. It's still hard to see, but it's not pitch black like it was 30 seconds ago.

Everyone's fear loosens, except for the recruits. The employees wander around the room and begin to set up the final touches for the upcoming shooting. The mood of the guitar in the back gets whimsical, as well the drums and keyboard.

As the director takes more casual steps while the hip-swinging melody hums in the background, he walks towards the recruits, crossing his arms now.

They were all shorter than him, and he loved that. It'd make him look even more "in charge".

After a second of staring, the director finally spoke, the melody in the back softening like a feather.

"So ya', though ya', might like to... Go to the show."

The recruits looked at each other in panic, confused as a choir hummed in the back.

The director continued.

"To feel the warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow."

The group peered back at the director, nodding their heads anxiously.

He noticed their scared looks and smiled.

"Tell me, is there something eluding you, sunshine? Is this not what you expected to see?"

They didn't say anything.

His eyes narrowed and his teeth gritted.

"If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes, you just have to claw your way through this disguise!"

The melody blared in the back as the director turned on his heel, walking towards his working employees. Nervous sweat could be seen dripping from their sorry foreheads.

"Lights!"

He roared, motioning his hand towards the men on the balconies above him. They flicked on a switch, causing large, beaming lights to commence.

The director turned to three men hiding behind a glass screen and a control panel.

"Roll the sound effects!"

They instantly did so without hesitation.

He glared at the cameras all around him.

"Action!"

The cameras twirled, rolling away and filming everything in sight.

The director felt his hair fizz with static, his angered look turning psychotic. His dilated pupils hissed at the special effects manager, which created a puff smoke spread around the room, mainly the director.

He motioned his look up towards a group of employees standing on the balcony, who almost dropped a bag of saw dust on the recruits below.

The director's eyes were insanely out of control as his fists clenched.

"Drop it! Drop it on em!"

He screamed, everyone around him looked at him like he was a mad man. In which, well, he was.

The director sunk to his knees, clutching onto the sides of his head, his brunette hair interlocking with his fingers and clinging onto his scalp for dear life. His eyes winced shut, and he couldn't help but scream on the top of his lungs,

"DROP IT ON THEM!"

As the melody in the back came to an end with a long line of shredding keyboards, guitars, and drums, the puff of smoke engulfed the director whole.

The recruits watched as the man laid in the smoke surrounding him, swallowing that stupid lump bothering them in their throats.

This was gonna take some getting used to.

But as the director laid in the puff of bright gray, a pin off of his shirt collapsed out of the collision. It was his name tag.

A recruit ran over and picked it up, and before he decided to give it back, he read it to himself out loud.

"Roger Waters..."