FicWad

"You think you can dismiss me that easily, smart boy?" Josh Rogan shouted, on the verge of apoplexy, waving a knife in front of him in arcane patterns that promised cutting and that right quick. "I'm not that easily pushed aside! You'd best begin taking me seriously!"

"...I don't like it," Thompson Thompson said.

Rogan laid down the knife. "Yeah, the script's crap. But what about the acting? I can /work /with the acting."

"I don't like the way you're pointing a knife at me," Thompson said, sounding upright and wronged. "I feel uncomfortable."

Rogan deflated. "I need to rehearse/, Thompson. I need you to /see me rehearse in order to give me pointers. Should I menace the /corner/?"

"No!" Thompson said. "What has the corner ever done to you?"

Rogan stared at Thompson.

Thompson stared at Rogan.

The door opened.

Rogan grabbed the knife, shoved the newcomer against the wall, pressed the blade of the knife to his throat, and hissed malevolently: "You think you can dismiss me that easily, smart boy? I'm not that easily pushed aside. You'd best begin taking me /seriously/."

Jimmy the Bastard let out a high-pitched stream of curses.

There was a brief, very pregnant pause.

"I liked it," Thompson decided. "Had verisimilitude."