A Star in the Family?

When I got home from work last night, Dolores was in the kitchen making snickerdoodles and having a heated conversation on the telephone.

"And don't you try to pull anything funny, you conniving bitch, because I will come after you. And where I pee, no grass grows. I want everything in writing by tomorrow. Now hang up and get to work."

"So, how is your dear mother?" I asked.

"Ha," said Dolores. "That was Harry's agent."

"Agent?"

"Yeah," said Dolores. "We were leaving the Goodman after the Saturday matinée and this guy stopped us at the stage door and asked if Harry has representation. A couple of meetings, a few calls to New York, and boom–as of today he's signed on with Myrna Weinstock and Associates. Not too shabby. Turns out his type is very much in demand just now."

"He's a ball of sock yarn."

"No shit," said Dolores. "Yarn is hot. Don't you read Vogue any more? Next week we have two go-sees for print work, and Myrna is sounding out HGTV about adding a co-host slot to 'Knitty Gritty.' "

"I appeal to an unusually broad television demographic," said Harry proudly, helping himself to a still-warm cookie.

"Get away from those," said Dolores. "We can't have you sitting in a fashion director's office looking bulky."

"Aw, but..."

"You can have a couple of celery sticks."

Harry rolled dejectedly into the living room.

"You gotta suffer if you're gonna be famous, kid!" Dolores screamed after him. "I'm only doing this for your own good!"

"I never seem to know what's going on around here any more," I said.

"Have a snickerdoodle," said Dolores. "And we need to talk about headshots."

"He doesn't have a head," I said. "He's a ball of sock yarn."

"Yes, we've established that," said Dolores. "I need four poses, one full length, 8x10, black and white, fifty copies of each by Monday. Also, five full-color shots, five different looks, printed as a single sheet, fifty copies. With his name on all of them. Keep the font simple. I'm thinking Univers. Why aren't you writing this down? You know you'll never remember."

"Do you have any idea how much I have to do before Christmas? I am not setting up the studio to take headshots of a ball of yarn."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Fine. By the way, I found the disc of 'art shots' that were taken of you last summer and was thinking how nice they would look printed up as a calendar for your mother."



Yes, I am.