Kookaburra Gambit

'Why do we need a script doctor?' Chicka asked. 'The thing's been rewritten by your people at least six times. Hardly any-thing's left of Vinnie Morgan's Aussie script, and I thought it was crash-hot.'

Alf said warningly, 'Chicka, mate. Tami knows what she's talking about. She's the expert here, and don't you forget it.'

'I still don't think we need all these bloody rewrites.'

Tami appeared to make a real attempt to appear patient, but the challenge was too much for her. 'For an amateur it may seem strange, but it's the process we use here in the industry, Chicka,' she said in an icy tone. 'Many writers contribute, each adding his or her own take on the project. Then, if necessary-and it is necessary here-a script doctor comes in to smooth any rough edges before the final rewrite. And, of course, the director will be making ongoing changes during the shoot.'

'Shit!' said Chicka inelegantly. 'You lot will rewrite the bloody thing to death.' I couldn't remember ever hearing Chicka swear.

'Thank you for your contribution, Chicka. Now, if we can move on, there seems to be a general agreement the story arc is sagging a little in the second act.'

'What do you mean?' Alf asked. 'There's lots happening between Penny Platypus and Kelvin Kookaburra.'

'There's no real emotional connection between these characters,' said Tami. 'We need something to fully engage the children in our primary audience.' Her yes-men murmured agreement.

'Kids like little things,' I said. 'How about baby animals?'

'Baby animals are good,' said Tami, beaming at me approvingly.

'Let's see,' I said. 'If a wombat and a bandicoot had a child, that'd be a womcoot, or a bandiwom. And how about a kangaroo and a platypus falling in love? They'd have little platkangs, or maybe kangaplats.' I was just warming up. 'And there could be kookawallas-'

'Aaagh!' Tami's face was contorted with horror. 'No Lamb White movie has interspecies relationships!'

'What? They can't be friends?' Alf protested. 'That's the whole point of the Oz Mob.'

'They can be friends,' snapped Tami, 'but no sex. Absolutely no hint of mating. The whole topic is absolutely forbidden.'

Disgust contorted her face. 'The very thought of a kangaroo and platypus falling in love…' She gagged.

'You're right,' I said, 'the size differential's too great, plus Penny Platypus would be spending most of her life in water. I'm afraid the relationship's doomed before it begins.'

Tami's face now reflected suspicion. Could she actually have the rudiments of a sense of humor and realize I was having fun with her?

'This subject is closed,' she said. Her yes-men nodded. 'Now, to move to the next item, I have a problem with Kelvin Kookaburra. His dialogue seems a little…how shall I put it? Homosexual.' Deep disgust had returned to her face.

'Oh?' said Quip, frowning. 'Could you point out an example of this, Tami?'

Tami picked up her copy of the script and flipped pages noisily. 'Page twenty has Kelvin speaking with Penny Platypus.' Her mouth twisted with distaste. Tami was certainly asking a lot of her facial muscles this afternoon.

Everyone obediently flipped pages to find the place. Tami put on red-framed reading glasses. 'Quoting Kelvin's words, the script has him saying to Penny Platypus the following: 'Omigod, Pennicles, where did you get that divine outfit? Isn't it just darling!''

She put down the script and looked accusingly around the table. 'Is it just me, or is that a gay kookaburra talking?'

'I think it's just you,' said Quip cheerfully.

'Sounds gay to me,' said one of the yes-men. The other one nodded emphatically.

'Maybe Kelvin is just a touch effeminate,' I said.

Tami frowned heavily. 'Lamb White movies always portray genders as very distinct. We see it as our God-given duty to present malleable little minds with role models of real men and real women. Effeminacy is out.'

'So,' said Quip, busily scribbling notes. 'You're asking for an ultrabutch kookaburra.' He gave her a sly smile. 'Have I got that straight?'

I repressed a grin.

Any impulse to smile rapidly disappeared when I realized Tami's knee was pressing against mine. I moved fractionally. Tami's knee followed. I glanced at her. She sent me a meaningful little smile.

Hell's bells! I was a victim of sexual harassment. Sexual harassment from a sheila who specialized in unarmed combat. Wouldn't it rot your socks!

Sixteen

The script meeting was coming to an end, which was fine by me. I'd managed to move my chair so I was out of reach of Tami's questing knee, but every now and then she unnerved me with a flirtatious glance.

While everyone argued over plot points in the script, I rehearsed several imaginary conversations with Tami. In each I explained kindly but firmly why I wasn't available for hanky-panky. A polite thanks-but-no-thanks approach. Unfortunately, the fact that I was supposedly Alf's girlfriend hadn't dissuaded her, which was a worry. Maybe I'd have to get tough.

Getting tough reminded me of Tami's devotion to unarmed combat. Sure, I'd done a course in self-defense at the Wollegudgerie Police Club, but I had to be realistic. It was doubtful I'd be able to handle a Tami Eckholdt frontal assault. I shuddered at the disturbing vision of Tami pinning me down with some mysterious unarmed-combat hold, and-

'You OK, love?'

'Thanks, Alf. I'm fine.'

To banish such horrible images, I forced myself to concentrate on the meeting. Tami was declaring forcefully there was no way Kelvin Kookaburra, as portrayed in this script, would have the moxie to challenge the evil Gordon Goanna in the climactic scene.

'What's this moxie you're talking about?' Alf asked. 'Is it something to do with Kelvin's muscles? Kookas are heavy-duty birds, not pushovers like sparrows.'

I was also keen to hear what moxie might be, but Tami had no opportunity to answer, as the focal point of the conference room shifted dramatically. Brother Owen swept through the door, closely followed by a bloke in a pinstripe suit.

The yes-men scrambled to their feet. Tami's expression switched from peeved to welcoming yet deferential. 'Brother Owen! This is an honor.'

Brother Owen had a faint, smug smile on his smooth, fleshy face. He put up his right hand in benediction. 'Blessings upon this meeting, and upon each child of God present with us here.'

I was puzzling over this, wondering if Brother Owen meant that one or more of us was not a child of God, so it was a selective blessing, when Alf said to the other bloke, 'G'day, Marty-O. Long time no see.'

So this was the Hartnidges' famous Hollywood agent, Marty O. Ziema. He was average height and very nattily dressed in a blue, double-breasted pinstripe suit, white shirt, and blood-red bow tie. He had gold cuff links, two heavy gold rings, and I caught a flash of gold in one front tooth. I couldn't see it, but I'd take bets his watch would be a heavy gold number.

I recalled Quip describing Marty O. Ziema as ruthless, egotistical, and dishonest-qualities that had made him very successful. 'When you've got influence, you have power,' Quip had said. 'And when you have power in this town, you can do what you damn well please.'

I'd imagined a shifty-eyed creature with rat-like features, probably chewing a cigar. Marty-O, however, had no cigar and appeared quite boringly normal, except for the bow tie. Mum always said to watch out for blokes wearing bow ties. 'They're a bit off,' she'd say. 'Not quite your ordinary bloke.' Now that I looked at him closely, his eyes were rather beady and close together.