#puzzledbusiness

Was he serious? Sure, script reads in early development tended to be read out amongst a group to hear the general flow and natural delivery of conversations, but… “Don’t you think it’ll be a little bit awkward to test out a script like that just with ourselves? There’s usually a whole board of writers doing it. Adds a bit of a buffer, you know?”

“Oh don’t be silly.” Mr. Puzzles dismissed your thought with a wave of his hand. “Aren’t you a professional? We can handle simple line reads without shaking in our boots. Unless I hired the wrong person?” He countered, looking to you with a raised eyebrow. You really couldn’t lose this job. Not after packing up everything you owned and moving all the way out here to weirdo land.

“No, no you didn’t…” You groaned, tilting your head back to stare up at the ceiling in restraint.

“Splendid!” He happily clapped his hands once, apparently ending that section of the conversation whether you wanted it or not. “Now! You get to writing a blockbuster hit and I will continue renovating Puzzlevision Studios!” He gestured to the worn out room around him in pride, earning a cocked eyebrow from you.

“Renovating? All you’ve done is du-…” You let your voice trail off. Can’t piss off your boss now. “Dooone is so much already…! Thanks for your generosity…”

“Oh it’s nothing~” He waved his hand, very obviously happy for the praise and practically begging for more. “Get to writing now, don’t mind little old me~!”

You’d follow suit as instructed, not wanting to dig yourself into a worse hole by running your mouth. Simply taking out your laptop and opening a blank word document to begin some drafts. While you would’ve expected the man to take his leave and work on other parts of the dilapidated building, you were sorely mistaken. No, the TV buzzed around the room- not unlike an annoying fly- fiddling with bits and bobs as he made a rather poor attempt at cleaning the windows. Every time you seemed to get an idea, the grating noise of wet cloth on glass would disrupt your tenuous concentration.

“Alright, that’s it!” You slam your laptop shut, your boss jolting in shock as you stand up from your seat to snatch the rag from him. “You clean it in circles! Circles! That’s how you get rid of the streaks.” Roughly demonstrating your technique, you show a perfectly clear window- with as little shrill squeaking as possible. “See?!”

“Oh! Well…” Mr. Puzzles looked at the window, turning away with his arms crossed. “I knew that already.”

“Like hell you did.” Tossing the rag at the man’s chest you rounded the table. “Listen, if I’m gonna write, we have to make this shit tenable first; and if that means helping you clean so you stop making so much noise then fine! We’ll clean!” You just couldn’t help yourself at this point, prodding him with a finger as you let your mouth run. “And y’know what! We’re making a snack run, cause I am not about to write and workshop a script on my own without snacks!”

The whole time Mr. Puzzles simply looked down at you, a shocked expression on his screen. Each step back he took, you took one forward, until the man was against a wall like a cornered animal. He did not want to deal with this… Should he just take over your mind? He knows he avoided that situation earlier, but, it didn’t quite serve him to have his sidekick be so obstinate… “…Fine.” His screen shifted, glitching briefly to a terrifying visage or real eyes and teeth before going back to something more presentable. Happy. For now, at least. “We will grab your snacks first, then retreat back to the studio to get some work done, sidekick.”

Suddenly you remembered just how dwarfed you were by the man, taking an uneasy step back as you eyed him nervously. It seemed you became the cornered animal just as quickly. “Right…” You nodded, taking another step back and letting out a shaky sigh. “So, like… Do you have a seven eleven around here?”

“We have an eleven seven.” He responded, entirely serious.

“…Of course you do.” You groaned, tilting your head back and pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “How far?”

“A ten minute walk, at most.” Mr. Puzzles paused, thinking for a moment. “A light jaunt of an adventure, sidekick. If you can handle even running an errand with the one and only Mr. Puzzles~!” It seemed he was back to his peacocking, posing before marching out the door.

Monday. The worst day of the week for every working class citizen. One that upon its utterance plants the seed of exhaustion into the very marrow of humanity’s bones. Well, you were being dramatic. It just sucked. Especially since it is your first actual day of working at Puzzlevision as it’s sole employee. Your hand slammed down onto your phone in attempts to stop the alarm that blared in your ears, knocking it off of your bedside table in the process as you groaned in annoyance. No, no, you must remain positive. It’s your first day at a new studio! Your boss was kind enough and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with asinine small talk with other employees and interns…! You’d have the office all to yourself- besides Mr. Puzzles- so you can play music of any genre and as loudly as you’d like! Positives. You must think of positives. Sluggishly retrieving your phone, you’d go about your morning ablutions while your mind wandered. What would you wear? Business casual would be your go-to, but it seemed rather unassuming in comparison to your superior. Strictly casual was definitely out of the question, then…

You would eventually find your way to your closet, freshly unpacked clothes from your move hanging in a neat order that would likely be failed to upkeep in due time. Your tired eyes would scan across, coming up at a loss as-… Something was there that most certainly was not when you packed. A double breasted suit jacket of monotone grey, accents of white along the shoulders and down the length of the sleeves. The starched collar of the jacket raised so that it may wrap around your neck, a black bow tie hung neatly around the hanger so that it may be paired with it. It looked much like a black and white version of an old cinema uniform, the main point standing out being the recognizable white TV logo on the left breast pocket. Had Mr. Puzzles left you a uniform…? Given it’s just a jacket and a bow tie, you likely could pair it with any pair of black slacks to complete it. While it was somewhat startling to find an unwelcome new addition to your wardrobe, it at least allowed you a simplicity of choice.

Puzzlevision Studios was but a short ten minute walk away, the soles of your shoes clicking against the sidewalk as you adjusted your bowtie with one hand and held your portfolio bag in the other. A rather nice day, hopefully a herald of a good work day as you came across the faded asphalt of the abandoned parking lot. Still eerie, you thought, pushing open the front door and preparing yourself for that puff of dust you were met with last time. Though, as you squinted your eyes and paused, you’d find that no grime of derelict years would greet you. Rather, that distinct lemony scent of floor cleaner. Mr. Puzzles had actually kept true to his word, having cleaned at least a section of the building for your use. Now that you could actually see the furniture beneath the caked grime, you’d have to guess that they were from the 50’s. Slim, streamlined wooden desks and conical hanging light fixtures adorning the sparsely populated office waiting space. At least, that was your guess, you weren’t in charge of props after all.

You walked past the waiting area and to the beginning of the hall, though stopped as something caught your eye. On one of the first doors down the hall was a rather out of place looking sign, very obviously handmade as it seemed the ink had slightly smudged atop the cheap printer paper. ‘Screenwriter’s Room’. Well, at least that made it easy, you thought, opening the door and jolting in surprise. Mr. Puzzles had been in there, apparently still cleaning with a dust cloth in his hand. He had yelped in surprise in turn at your sudden intrusion, though covered it up with a cough and a sideways glance.

“Ahem—- Starlet! Aha! Welcome, to the new and improved~…!” The man did a dramatic pose, gesturing to the finally clean living conditions. “Puzzlevision Studios!” He seemed to wait with baited breath as you looked around your would-be office, examining it out of politeness for all the work he had apparently put in. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing you’d ever seen; in fact, most would consider this a downgrade in conditions. Where you had recently come from a rather modern, ‘hip’ office with open planned drafting areas stocked with beanbag chairs and snack cabinets, this was absolutely archaic. A small room with a window to view the run down parking lot, one large table filling the space covered in permanent ink stains and notches from use, and two frankly uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. But, hey, at least it wasn’t mostly dust…!

“Thanks, Mr. Puzzles…!” You spoke carefully, not wanting to hurt your new boss’ feelings as you went about putting down your things. After all, he signs your paychecks.

“No need for thanks, my loyal sidekick!” Despite the words, it was very obvious the man wanted thanks. “I am a man of my word, after all! And I see you’ve found the uniform I created! One must match with their minions, after all~! I dare say that greyscale suits you!” Mr. Puzzles gestured to you, then back at his outfit, radiating pride for his apparently genius idea.

“Yeah, about that.” You began, your stern tone causing his happy expression to fall. “I get wanting a uniform for your employees- even though it’s a bit weird given I’m just a screenwriter-“ Emphasizing your proper job title, you continued. “Can you not leave it in my closet without any warning? It’s kinda creepy. How did you even know my size?”

“Excuse you! I had offered to help you move! Why not leave it there since I was already assisting?!” He scoffed, insulted at your creepy comment. “Besides, I simply guessed at sizing. Best to leave it for you to get tailored at your leisure.” He had in fact guessed at the sizing, given he had spent plenty of time just staring at you while you watched movies on his screen. A lucky guess, and certainly not creepy…! That’s what he’d tell himself, at least. He had gotten it done at the same place where he got his signature designer clothes, so at least you’d be similar once he got up to his villainy. Easier for everyone to know whose side you were on!

“Sure, sure.” You’d leave it at that, given he didn’t seem to mess with your room further. “Just don’t go leaving any more surprises around my house, ‘kay?”

Mr. Puzzles rolled his eyes— well, as best as a mostly static picture possibly could—- and sat down in the chair opposite yours. “Now! To business!” His hand went to one of his knobs, switching the picture to Puzzlevision’s current ratings. “We are… at zero stars.” He brushed past that part rather quickly, turning the knob again back to his face. “So! We need a breakout hit to being to correct course! Craft something genius, Starlet!” He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the look of absolute confusion on your face.

“There’s so much to process here.” You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, thinking it all over. “First: how the hell did we get to zero stars?!” While Mr. Puzzles’ knee jerk reaction was to begin to admonish you for even questioning such a thing, one word gave him pause. We. Despite it being your first day, you seemed to already count yourself at a proper Puzzlevision employee… He was lucky you were still so frustrated so you wouldn’t see the genuinely pleasant expression on his face. “Second: you can’t just tell me to craft something!” You exclaimed, hands dropping to your sides as you looked at him in mocking annoyance. “There’s a process to this! I need to know what you’ve done already, what films got what ratings, what test audiences thought was good and bad…!”

Test audiences. He… Hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps it would’ve been a good idea, but he’d be damned if he let you know that he never even considered it. “I have tried everything!” He exclaimed back, voice raising. “Foreign films, game shows, horror, westerns, kids programming, even a damn fairy tale for goodness sakes!” For each listed genre his screen would change to the poster, growing frustration at having to list each of his prior failures. “Everything!”

You racked your brain, watching the man ramble before an idea would finally strike. “You didn’t try romance.” You countered, Mr. Puzzles stopping mid ramble with a confused look on his face. He even had a little loading circle… You’d unpack how you felt about that later.

“Excuse you?”

“Romance! Sure you did a fairytale, but that’s not really a proper romance. If you do a romance right, you gain a practically rabid fanbase who’ll consume anything you put out related to it.” It was an easy genre to mess up, and one that could get you a lot of flak. But the rewards far outweighed the losses, given there was practically nothing to lose. “I worked on a few serialized romance series, so I’ve got the experience under my belt. What’s our pool of actors looking like? Can you call back the ones who performed in the other shows?”

“Absolutely not!” His sudden objection left you rather confused, but he continued anyway. “I refuse to… Call back, those oafs!” Mr. Puzzles didn’t exactly want you knowing that they were held against their will and brainwashed into performing. “They are wholly unprofessional and have produced the single worst show I have ever seen!”

“Okay, okay, jeez… You’re the one with zero stars, though.” You decided not to push that further, moving on before he could comment on your little jab. “So you’re telling me we have no actors, no staff, and no existing fanbase.”

“Exactly why I hired you.” Mr. Puzzles’ manic face returned, a slightly imposing look when he seemed to tower over you even when sitting. “We’ll develop a show with a skeleton crew of actors, a shoestring budget and you must get our ratings sky high. Do I make myself clear?” God, the man looked scary with that threatening tone, a shiver going up your spine.

“Crystal…” You replied, clearing your throat to distract from the slight terror. “So, we’re probably looking at two actors at least… I can work with this. Filming in your head will make for great sets, at least… How’ll we run through the screenplay with just us, though?”

“Simple, Starlet!” His demeanor changed back to something less threatening, though you still couldn’t shake that inkling of fear. “We’ll act it out ourselves until we can find suitable replacements!”

With a groan your arms stretched high up to the ceiling, a blanket you don’t remember putting over yourself falling to the floor. You had slept surprisingly well, given the fact that you had apparently fallen asleep on your second-hand, worn down Ikea loveseat. Most of last night seemed to blur together in your mind. You had watched movies with Mr. Puzzles, sure, but… Had you even taken him home? It wasn’t that big of a deal, Puzzlevision Studios was around a five minute walk away, but that surely couldn’t have been where he lived… Could it? No, certainly not. That would be crazy. Then again, everything around here seemed crazy. You went about your morning routine with little to note, eventually coming to rest at your small table to eat your breakfast with your laptop close by. You’d been meaning to do some research, and you might as well get it done before you start your new job. New job… Right. Retrieving your phone from your pocket, you shot off a quick message to your new boss.

“Hey. Did u walk home?”

Stowing it away, you got to work as you ate your cereal. Things were weird, and you needed to get to the bottom of it. Saturated environmental colors, people’s movements not being quite right… You searched up where you lived, and specifically went to the YouTube section. If it wasn’t just you, there would have to be video evidence. In doing so, you’d stumble across your first clue. Some man- rather short and clad in white overalls- reenacting some meme. And, clear as day, his movements were just… Not lifelike. Another man, looking incredibly similar to the first yet sporting rather evil looking facial hair, moving similarly. A video of a woman shooting a… Paint gun? Paint would be far too viscous to shoot like she was doing, especially from a gun so small. Not to mention the background of the video was just as saturated as everything else.

This led you to a different rabbit hole entirely. Memes. That’s right, ones of the “I can haz cheezeburger” variety or Moo Deng and Wombo Combo. Were you getting out of touch? Apparently, at least here, memes had a certain power to them. Meme Energy, as you’ve decided to call it, seemed to be… Contagious, for lack of a better term. Exposure to areas with high amounts of it, ie the Mushroom Kingdom which you now reside on the outskirts of, seemed to make things more cartoony. Toon logic like serious injuries not being as serious- though with the amount of grave injuries you’ve seen on the Mushroom Kingdom’s denizens’ YouTube pages, you hope that to be the case- saturated color schemes, exaggerated proportions and movements…

You looked up from your computer, gazing out the window to the sunny day outside. Exposure… Would that mean you would become just as weird as your boss? Looking down at yourself, you didn’t seem very different. Then again, you only just got here… Perhaps it would be best to have something for comparison. You set your phone up against your laptop and got up from your chair, setting a picture timer before standing up and taking a few steps back.

Yup. Still you. You thought, coming back to see the photo. As you pondered on it, a message came across the top of your screen.

“Ah! Yes, Starlet! You got rather tired so I showed myself out. My apologies if I worried you.”

Your fingers awaited above the phone’s keyboard, tapping the sides in contemplation as you thought your message through.

“Hey, Mr. Puzzles, r u a meme?”

“…Pardon you?” His message dinged, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

“I am nothing of the sort! Such low brow comedy is far too benign for someone of my caliber. Why are you suddenly interested in memes?”

You stared at the screen, a certain sense of apprehension overtaking you for reasons you didn’t know.

“…No reason. C u tomorrow”