Isn’t that great news?” “Great,” Shelley said to her agent, Marv. As she spoke, she gazed out the apartment window, trying to hear his voice over the police sirens and another drunken argument screeching from the building next door. It would be great news if she actually got to do some stunt riding. In any case, a gig as an evil Goth biker chick definitely beat the fat-woman-gets-dumped-on-her-ass that she usually got assigned as a stunt actor. Being a biker chick didn’t sound like she’d have to wear the fat suit to make her big body look extra laughable. Not that she’d ever figured out why anybody, fat or thin, tumbling down a set of stairs while spilling laundry (including gigantic undies), groceries, or briefcases was supposed to be funny. But hey, falling down in a fat suit paid the rent. “Great,” she said again, then registered a little too much rah rah in her agent’s voice.
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