Ms. Perry's Fantastic Magic Show

Katy Krystal sat in her dressing room and looked over her script for the week's taping of her show, "Ms. Perry's Fantastic Magic Show." She was barely past the first page and was already rolling her eyes so hard, she thought they'd fall out of her head.

The show had seen enormous success after a few episodes. Most actresses would have killed to be so recognizable during the opening week of their first ever TV show. But Katy felt there was more to offer as a magician. She studied magic and theatre since she was a kid, and wanted to make her name known as something special.

Her producer entered her room without knocking. "About fifteen minutes, Ms. Perry."

"Don't call me that when the cameras are off," Katy groaned.

Her producer, Nick, stood beside her with his usual fake smile. "Alright, what's wrong this time, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that either," Katy warned. "And have you read this script? The acts I'm supposed to perform?"

"Oh yeah!" Nick said happily, not reading his clients' expression. "A round of classics for new viewers to enjoy and old viewers to appreciate!"

"I've done the 'Rabbit in the Hat' trick every single episode! Even new watchers know how that trick works!"

"Oh, come on! Aren't you overreacting? People love this stuff!"

"No, they love how much cleavage I show in my costume!" Katy argued. "With how cold it is onstage, my nipples could rip through it, or the crotch could split! I may as well just perform naked!"

Nick finally dropped his smile. "Whoa, whoa there! Let's now do anything rash! We don't want to jeopardize our bright future, do we?"

Katy hated his condescending attitude, but knew that Nick didn't back down. It was better to shut down the conversation before he started his sales technique of offering more snacks in her room. "No. 'We' don't."

The smile came back. "Glad to hear it! Now, I'll be making sure they highlight your good side onstage tonight! Make me proud, kid!"

Katy couldn't fathom how she could be considered a 'kid' to a man three years older than her. Or how a TV show producer failed so miserably at picking up sarcasm. The sound of his tacky shoes marching out of her room was music to her ears.