Daddy and the Wolf

            Daddy lifted the blinds, the better to talk, and as he did, he peered outside. He was always on the watch for ‘talent’. He thought what he’d just viewed was great for a pilot episode. So great that he wanted it remade for the premiere of the first season.

           “The show is spot on for the demographic with the most potential. Which this year happens to be me and my ilk.”

On the other side of Daddy’s desk, Wolf nodded as much as he could. That is, not with quantity, but a sort of quality of nodding.

“This angle you have,” Daddy told Wolf. “Banishment to the honey pot. That could be developed further. Some can live through that, so we could run with the premise. It could be the basis for a spin-off. ‘Sweet Life’, or something. Couldn’t all the participants in the pilot be brought back through my studio?”

“I floated that idea, and they all refused,” Wolf said. “They all consider themselves actors. With careers. Even the sow-bug.”

“Huh?”

            “The roly-poly.”

            “Oh! What audience authority he had. You kept going back to him, rolled up there in the corner. What else has he done?”

            “Only that. It’s his specialty.”

            “Oh. Okay. Well-rounded, in a sense.”

            “Bit of a lush. Considers himself a devotee of Stanislavsky. They all do. Oh! Except for the praying mantis. He’s in a band, instead.”

            Daddy thought that the use of the praying mantis brought a balance to the episode. The audience would think that he would last, and he did. But not long enough.

            “Have you given much thought to using the stinging insects?”

            Wolf was ready with an answer.

            “We may have a special installment for them. Wasp Week or something.”

            “Great use of bathos with the whatzit.” Daddy raised a leg and twitched, searching for a word. “That little brown-grey beetle who just lay there clicking to righten himself.”

            “Well, so he did for awhile. Then he was the first to go.”

            “Yes. But what sort of insect was he?”

            “I don’t rightly know. I asked. He doesn’t know either.”

            “No matter. I’m no entomologist. I just use them…”

            And there Daddy drifted off. Which may have seemed callous, but you have to consider the context. This was just a pair of spiders, speaking between themselves. The show itself had a fine, spiritual premise, with the winning contestant crawling into a very large human ear at the end. It was the Big Ear in the sky. The place where every insect wants to go. Between them, Daddy Long-legs and the Wolf Spider mulled over the dynamics the praying mantis had brought to the episode, with his friendly predator/prey demeanor, his less-kempt hair and bootleg concert t-shirt. Daddy began to pace and hiss.

            “As for the name of the show, though. We may have clearance issues with the title: ‘Big Ear’.”

            Wolf took his pen and scratched a line off the pad he held.

            “Well, I guess that also rules out ‘Bug Apprentice’.”

            “But keep the ear. And you gotta consider casting an ear-wig at some point.”

            “I have. But for the second season.”

            “Good.”

            “And he won’t win.”

            “Excellent. Nice twist.”

            Daddy had wanted the mantis to win the pilot, but later he realized that he’d knew all along that it was the gnat who had to win. An insect who weighed less than a grain, with the power to compel grown men to slap themselves in the face, now, that was some form of karmic judo, if he’d ever seen it. That fragile, yet resilient gnat marched into that ear in the final scene- as the one who got away. Only a memory. A show like that shouldn’t be wasted just as promotional material.

            “But the ear’s only so deep.”

            Daddy was startled- “Hm?”

            “Foam rubber,” Wolf continued. “If you want a remake, of course, I’ll be eating the losers for real. And then I’ll have the gnat, too, you see. Because the ear’s only so deep.”

            Daddy knew all that was granted. “It’s how he plays the game. It’s not the destination…” (he rolled what may pass for a hand at the end of one of his legs…) “i.e. trapped in a web having your life’s juices sucked out- but The Journey.”

              He began to pace, there behind his desk again.

            “They’re not committed to an actual episode, though! Bad luck. It all shows great promise. Couldn’t you force them somehow. You’re an effective…producer…in this town.”

            Wolf issued an emphatic, yet qualified ‘Yes’.

            “You understand what I’m saying.” Daddy placed four or more legs on his desk and leaned over this arachno-upstart.  “I’m talking about using your web, Wolf.”

            Wolf shrugged and grinned.

            “That’s old school, Daddy. The studio system is finished.”