Greasepaint
isn’t ready for this. Mona knows that. She stands and looks down at him. Her brows knit.
    â€œI’ll tell you about it sometime. It’s nothing…really,” Michael says. He can’t look her in the eyes. After a moment, Mona holds out her hand.
    â€œI don’t believe you,” she says as Michael takes her hand. She helps him to stand and hugs him tight. He is a bit taller than her so she reaches on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “but we’ll work it out. Right now, we’ve been busting ass loading gear and it’s your turn to help.”
    With that, Michael turns away, ready to leave. Mona grabs his arm and spins him back around. He is smiling from ear to ear.
    â€œBut I’m a star!” he whines.
    Mona bends over and picks up a large speaker case. She hands it to Michael like a personal trainer with a medicine ball. It thuds into his chest and he nearly doubles over.
    â€œQuite whining, rock star, we have work to do,” Mona says as she bends to grab her own case. Michael admires the view for a moment and hefts the case onto his shoulder. Thoughts of balloons, clowns and nightmares are temporarily banished…it was show time.
    Monty Reigns sits behind his desk on the soundstage of The Monty Reigns Show . The studio audience is alive and not ashamed to let Monty know it. The green light on the camera blinks on and a sign reading “On Air” flashes, just off camera. The audience takes their cue and cheers. Monty stares straight at the camera and motions for the audience to calm down. The boisterous crowd reluctantly complies with the intermittent whoop and holler thrown in for good measure.
    â€œClam it! Tonight we are going to hit some serious news,” Monty says after a patented dramatic pause.
    The crowd quiets a bit, their hero has spoken.
    â€œLast week I asked you monkeys to send me any information we could find about that little kid that the clown screwed up.” Monty keeps up the serious exterior until, after an amount of time that can only be measured by astute showbiz professionals, he smiles Cheshire-wide. “And you boys and girls came through like gangbusters! Let’s go to Angela Martinez, girl reporter, on the street with the scoop!”
    Monty turns to his left as if an image of Angela Martinez, a slim brunette holding a microphone with a “Monty” nameplate has just appeared there. For the studio audience, they can see Angela on the screens that hang above the camera viewing area. For the Monty Reigns fan at home, Angela pops up on their screen to Monty’s left.
    Standing outside on a sidewalk, conveniently situated before the local police station, the well-dressed Angela begins her news stand up. Unfortunately for Angela, her voice isn’t quite the complement to the statuesque beauty that most real news organizations require for their anchors. She has a high-pitched, nasally voice that most people automatically equate to bubble-headed bimbo. Only half correct, Angela is only biding her time with Monty Reigns until one of the three big broadcasters call. She just knows it. Until then—
    â€œThank you, Monty. Our viewers have sent in droves of information and we now know the name of the mystery child rescued from Orzo the Clown,” she says. A graphic of Michael pops onto the screen next to her. It is a promo shot from the band.
    â€œHis name is Michael Talbot and he currently performs in the rock and roll band Corpus Delicti.”
    Monty nods, feigning rapt attention in Angela’s report.
    â€œWell isn’t that ironic,” he says. The audience roars their approval.
    â€œYes it is, Monty. We also have this footage…”
    The photo of Michael blips off and is quickly replaced by shaky cell phone footage of Corpus Delicti performing. The band can barely be seen between the blurs, but they appear to be in full costume for the performance. The not-so-gentle strains of punk rock music

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