Chapter 19
WRITE OR WRONG?
Stewart Johnson and I head over to the big black van in the parking lot.
When he slides open the side door, I see four guys and one girl inside, all of them clacking away on laptop computers.
“Meet my writing team,” says Johnson. “I’d introduce you, but I’m bad with names. Except Bob. I like the name Bob. Any of you guys named Bob?”
They all shake their heads. Without looking up from their keyboards.
“Too bad. Okay, Jamie, here’s the plan. We tail you. We tail your three friends and that bully kid.”
“Stevie Kosgrov,” I say.
“Right. We take notes. We see or hear something funny, we work it into the script.”
“I don’t know if I want you guys spying on my friends.”
“We’re not spies, Jamie. We’re writers. This is how we do research.”
“Or Google,” says one of the guys in the van. “We use Google a lot, too.”
“Okay, gang,” says Johnson, “you know your assignments. Shadow these kids. Keep your eyes and ears open. Write down whatever they say, whatever they do. We want our script to keep it, like the kids say, for realsies.”
“Actually,” I say, “that’s not what for realsies means.…”
“Well, fo shizzle.”
“Um, nobody really says that anymore.”
“Then we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Okay, team, go do your homework. And when it’s time to turn it in, don’t tell me your dog ate it!”
A writer follows Stevie Kosgrov around for the next couple of days. Stevie hates it because when Lars Johannsen sees Chip taking notes, he starts terrorizing Stevie even more.
“Be sure you write down this part,” Lars says as he’s holding Stevie by the ankles over a swirling toilet bowl. “In Minnesota, we call this the Double-Dipsy Dunker Doozie. We usually do it when we’re out ice fishing on the lake and get bored staring at the little circle we cut in the ice.”
Gaynor loves his shadow. He got Emma Smith, a writer he thinks is pretty.
“You’ll follow me anywhere?” he asks, sounding love-struck.
Emma Smith shrugs. “It’s my job.”
“Awesome. So, wanna go to the movies?”
“Sure.”
“Wow. Most girls usually say no.”
The writer trailing my brainiac buddy Jimmy Pierce fills his entire notebook on day one. Unfortunately, most of it is totally unfunny. Actually, most of it is totally boring.
Me? Well, since I’m supposed to be the star of the show, I get the head writer. Stewart Johnson.
“Hey, Jamie?” he says as we’re heading down the sidewalk to Smileyville. “What would happen if you took the bus home from school?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. What?”
“The police would make you bring it back! By the way, I found out that shoes are required to eat in the cafeteria. But socks can eat anywhere they like!”
While he’s laughing his head off, I’m wondering if I made a mistake signing that contract.
With jokes like those, Jamie Funnie isn’t going to be very funny, no matter how they spell it.