Our cast of characters:
Ghosty McGhostwriter: An ever-awesome literary collaborator.
Literary McAgent, Jr.: An ever-frustrating literary agent.
Cranky McGrouchy: An ever-angry stand-up comedian.
Wimpy McGrouchy: Cranky's ever-spineless manager/cousin.
Cool McEditor: An ever-cool editor.
There are a whole heap of people whose books I'd love to ghost: Meryl Streep, Lorne Michaels, Bruce Springsteen, Liz Phair, you know, those sorts of random, seemingly cool folks. (I'd put Brett Favre on that list, only because I'm curious to see if he'd text me a photo of his undoubtedly teeny weenie. What a douche.) I think big now, but back in the day, I shot low, and took what I could get. (Shit, who am I kidding: I still take what I can get.) So when Literary McAgent told me she'd landed a deal for the hot comic Cranky McGrouchy, I threw my hat in the ring.
Cranky was a stand-up who'd dome some time on an ensemble sketch show, and while she was inconsistent, she had moments of pure genius. Very lowbrow genius, certainly, but genius nonetheless. I thought, This foul-mouthed chick might just have a book in her.
I called up Literary and said, "Attach me to the project. Attach me to Cranky. I'm in."
"I dunno, babe," Literary said, "Cranky kinda wants to work with a guy. She likes dudes. A lot."
"Um, isn't she married? With kids?"
"Yeah, but she's not a fanatic about it. She digs strip clubs."
"Male or female?"
"Both."
That was a big ol' a red flag right there, but sometimes I'm dumb about those things. I said, "Well, if she decides she wants to work with somebody who she can't bang, I'm here for her."
"I'll let her know, babe. I'll let her know."
Much to my eternal regret, Literary let her know.
Next: In which Ghosty has a face-to-face with the surprisingly cranky Cranky, and the ill-equipped Wimpy, and briefly fears for her life.
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