“Mr. Cook? Mr. Tyrone? Mr. Jameson will see you now. Just through that door.” The nasally secretary nodded toward the door behind her. Two men, dressed in identical pinstripe suits, stood up from their chairs and walked toward the door. Aside from the suits, the two men looked nothing alike. One was white, one was black; one had a wispy goatee, the other was clean-shaven; one had tall, brown hair, the other had short dark brown hair. Although their appearances differed, their desire was shared.

One of the men, Mr. Tyrone, opened the door to Mr. Jameson’s office. Mr. Tyrone then entered, shortly followed by Mr. Cook. In the center of the office stood a desk, seating a plump bald man, who had a pen lodged into his mouth, just underneath his gray moustache.

“Gentlemen, have a seat,” Mr. Jameson growled.

“Thank you for seeing us, sir,” Mr. Tyrone smiled politely.

“Make it quick, boys, I have to---“

“Don’t worry, dude, we’ve just got a quick favor to ask,” Mr. Cook said quickly.

“What is it?” Mr. Jameson snarled.

Mr. Tyrone and Mr. Cook glanced at each other. “We want you to produce our play,” Mr. Tyrone said.

Mr. Jameson took the pen out of his mouth and looked at the two other men. “You two boneheads serious?”

“Yeah. It’s about Australian birds!” Mr. Cook snickered.

“Mr. Cook-”

“Dude, call me Ezekiel,” he grinned.

“…Ezekiel, you and Mr. Tyrone have some explaining to do.”

“Of course, sir,” Mr. Tyrone nodded. “Here’s what happened.”