"That's it! I'm not doing it!" The Super Villain, in a flowing black cape, crumpled the script, threw it on the ground and blasted it with his ray gun. Twice. The thing erupted into flames, setting off the fire alarms, and would have drenched them all in water, except that this was a B-movie and there wasn't enough money for such niceties.
The Director rolled his ever long-suffering eyes towards the ceiling, "What's the matter now? Not enough long-legged beauties in the Harem of No Return?"
"You hate me! You all hate me!" The Super Villain screamed, jumping up and down and shooting the sandwich boy who, as it was his first day on the job, didn't realize he should duck - and also have taken out life insurance for this gig.
The Director groaned in annoyance, whispered to his cowering PA to send for another sandwich boy, because he hadn't had any lunch yet. Holding the script in front of him like a shield and peeking over the top, he approached the Super Villain with wary steps. "But they're supposed to hate you. You're the Villain. If they hate you it means you're doing a good job."
"But I want to be loved!" the crazed villain declared, pointing his gun menacingly at the Director.
"Uh, I'm sure we could do a rewrite," the Director assured him, calmly pushing the muzzle of the gun so it no longer pointed at him.
The Super Villain squeezed the trigger and annihilated a piece of scenery. The Props Master stalked past the pair muttering about the difficulties of getting paint to match, wondering if it wasn't too late to take up something more meaningful, like knitting.
“Scriptwriter!” the Director screamed, his voice rising to octaves that would have made an opera soprano envious.
The Scriptwriter hurried up polishing his glasses, blinking owlishly at the Super Villain. "Umm I could make you into an antihero."
The Super Villain narrowed his eyes and shoved his hands behind him. "You're not taking away my gun."
"Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it." The Scriptwriter backed away. "Then, why don't we give you a boss who is even nastier than you are, someone who will go over the line and bring out your humanity?"
"Then you'll replace me with another actor. I know how that goes!"
The Scriptwriter dove for cover as the Super Villain vaporized the camera behind him. The Director sighed. They were already over budget for this production as it was.
The Token Female Sidekick came in, moaning about her lines.
"What lines?" asked the Director, who was miffed to discover that the Scriptwriter had actually given her lines.
"These ones, right here," she pointed out, her perfectly manicured fingers stabbing at the script. She eyed the Super villain who was 'in consultations' with the Scriptwriter, which meant that he had his ray gun waving threateningly in his face while the poor man rewrote the script.
"How am I supposed to emote this? What is my motivation?"
The Director squinted at his own handwriting in the margins. "Those aren't lines. Those are stage directions."
"If he is getting a script rewrite," the Hero strode up waving his script like a lasso. "I want one too."
"But, but you're the Hero," the Director spluttered. "What are your objections?"
"I don't get to kiss anyone!" The Hero stabbed at the script for emphasis. "It's all very well for you to go for the 'sexual tension' vibe. But have you any idea how difficult it is to sleep at night, not to mention sit down in these tight leather trousers!"
"But I don't like you!" The Token Female sidekick pouted.
"I wasn't talking about you dearie, I meant him!" The Hero pointed at the Super Villain.
The Director slapped his hand to his forehead so hard he nearly saw stars, which would be far more than were on this film.
The Super Villain screamed, "I'd rather die first!" He off a few more shots with his ray gun, hitting the new sandwich boy on his first minute of work, and a passing elephant.
The Director grumbled under his breath, "That can be arranged."
"What did you say?" The Super Villain waved the gun threateningly in the Director's face.
"I was saying…" His eyes brightened.
