“More!” I scream at the CBS Television Studios executive holding a basket of nourishment just out of reach.
His grip does not loosen. He appears to be unmoved.
“More!!” I scream again, my voice crackling with despair.
He sighs and shakes the basket, dislodging but a crumb of new information regarding that long-reported Clueless reboot centered on Cher’s best friend, Dionne.
The crumb drifts down into my barren, cobweb-covered bowl. I pick it up between my joy-starved fingers, sniff it, and place it under my tongue to savor what little it contains for as long as I possibly can. It tastes like…a Variety report that Peacock, NBCUniversal’s understandably yet nonetheless horribly named streaming service, has landed the rights to this latest televised adaptation of Amy Heckerling’s 1995 teen movie classic, which was itself a modernized retelling of Jane Austen’s Emma.
I roll it around in my mouth, hoping to uncover something as yet untasted, but all I find is the same dumbass plot description we got last October about it being “a baby pink and bisexual blue-tinted, tiny sun-glasses wearing, oat milk latte and Adderall-fueled look at what happens when queen bee Cher disappears and her lifelong number two Dionne steps into Cher’s vacant Air Jordans.”
“More!!” I scream at the CBS exec. “More!!!!”
A cackling grows from deep down in his gullet, building and building until it reaches a fevered pitch. He tips over the basket as if to rain its nourishing contents all over me. I spread my arms and tilt my head back, opening my mouth in anticipation.
But then…nothing. The basket was empty all along.
I swallow my one crumb and thank the CBS exec for his generosity.
“This was good,” I tell him.
He pries open my mouth and spits in my maw.
“That was also good,” I say, heady fully empty…brain somewhere else…