I Funny TV: A Middle School Story Read online

  “Maybe. What’s on your mind?”

  “An idea for a surprise-guest-star appearance.”

  “By Jacky?

  “And one of her SNL friends.”

  “I’ll give her a call.”

  “You have Jacky Hart’s phone number?”

  “Office and cell.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  I shrug. “It’s no biggie. Both her daughters are big fans of mine.”

  “Well, that makes three of us.”

  All of a sudden, I have this lump the size of a meatball in my throat. “You’re still a fan?”

  “Always have been, Jamie. Always will be. Besides, it’s kind of hard to stay mad at a guy who gives you the biggest break of your life!”

  She leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Under the circumstances, I might like Gilda’s kiss even more than Cool Girl’s!

  As soon as we arrive at Silvercup Studios, Gilda jumps right in.

  First, she works with me and the Frownie family on a scene where we’re posing for our family Christmas card portrait.

  “Hold those frowns, guys,” Gilda coaches. “And if the audience laughs, try to look even more confused.”

  She turns to the animal trainer.

  “Can you have the cat slump to the floor and cover its eyes with its paws?”

  “We’ll try,” says the trainer. “But it’s a cat.”

  Somehow, the guy makes it work. Watching the cat slump to the floor in sync with the Frownies’ frowns? Hysterical.

  Next, Gilda tackles the scene with me and Nigel Bigglebottom in the diner. She makes it much better.

  Next up is my first scene with Donna Dinkle as Jillda Jewel. She meets me in homeroom, where I tell her all about the zombies I passed on my way to school.

  “You know,” I say, “zombies only date super-intelligent girls.”

  Donna bats her eyelashes. “I know. Because they love a girl with braaaaains!”

  “Cut,” says Gilda.

  “Is there some problem?” asks Donna.

  “Um, yeah. According to my script, you were supposed to say, ‘Is that so?’ and then Jamie does the line about ‘braaaaains,’ because the show’s called Jamie Funnie, not Jillda Funnie.”

  Donna smiles and blinks. A lot.

  “Ensemble shows work best when everybody shares the laugh lines,” she says.

  “Maybe,” mumbles Gilda. I can see her wheels spinning. “Mr. Wetmore?” she says to the ceiling.

  An intercom mic from the control booth clicks on. “What’s up, Ms. Gold?”

  “Is it too late to cast a few more characters? Extras?”

  “Zombies?”

  “You read my mind. This scene is kind of boring. Instead of Jamie telling Jillda about the zombies, it would be awesome if we showed them. Could we do some bloody costumes and gross makeup and play the scene in front of a scrolling backdrop—something simple to make it look like Jamie’s rolling down the street and bumping into all sorts of weird zombies?”

  “We could do it in front of the green screen,” says Mr. Wetmore, “and add the rolling background with a video we run through the switcher.”

  “Awesome!”

  “Let me make a few quick calls and get back to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wetmore. And see if Jacky Hart will play one, too! Jamie has her phone numbers.”

  “Great idea.”

  “And we could have that lizard guy from SNL just sort of randomly lurching down the street. Like he’s still bitter about losing to Jamie last weekend.”

  The whole crew is chuckling. They like Gilda’s ideas.

  Everybody on the set is happy. Except, of course, Donna Dinkle. She’s seriously unhappy.

  “Am I in the scene?” she asks. “On the moving sidewalk?”

  Gilda shakes her head. “No. It’d be too confusing. We’ll introduce you later, in the cafeteria scene. That’s where Jamie and I first met, anyway. Remember?”

  I smile.

  How could I forget? It’s not every day you meet someone who loves comedy and making people laugh as much as you do.

  Plus, she let me finish her chocolate milk.

  Chapter 54

  ALL MY SHIRTS ARE SWEATSHIRTS

  Early Friday morning, I’m on BNC’s Sunrise Show promoting that night’s live broadcast.

  Speaking of nerves, when I get to Silvercup Studios, Michael McKee, the actor playing my best friend, Bob, is waiting for me in my dressing room.

  “Jamie?”

  “Yes, Michael?”

  “I have a confession to make.”

  “What? Are you the one who stole my M&M’s?”

  “No. That was Donna. She swiped my Twizzlers, too. I need to tell you that, well, sometimes I choke like you did.”

  “You do?”

  “Not all the time. Just sometimes. Like when there’s an audience or I’m doing a show live. I’m better working on movies. Or still photos. I’m fine on fashion shoots.”

  “Too bad our show is live and in front of an audience, then. You haven’t choked in rehearsals, though.”

  “Only because you choked before I had a chance to go on and choke myself.”

  “Hey, you know what Jacky Hart told me when I did SNL last weekend?”

  Michael shakes his head.

  “There are no mistakes. They’re just chances to do something even funnier.”

  “That’s right,” says a woman out in the hall.

  Michael gasps. Because Jacky Hart just poked her head into my dressing room.

  “Which way to wardrobe and makeup?” Jacky asks.

  “Down the hall. Third door on your left.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you,” I say. “It’s so amazing that you’re doing a guest shot on my first show!”

  “Hey, it’s Friday. I only work on Saturday nights. Besides, I’ve always wanted to be a zombie.”

  She sticks out her arms Frankenstein-style and staggers down the hall. “Braaaaains. Must eat braaaaains. Or kidneys. Kidneys would be fine… just not kidney beans.”

  “Wow,” says Michael when she’s gone. “I can’t believe you know Jacky Hart.”

  “I only met her last week. She’s pretty awesome. You know, she told me she used to get so nervous in front of people that she’d stutter.”

  “Really? You’d never know it looking at her now.”

  “Exactly. And no one has to know that you and I wig out in front of a crowd, either. We just have to channel all that nervous energy into our performances.”

  “Did Jacky Hart tell you that, too?”

  “No. That I got from Gilda Gold, our new director.”

  Suddenly, I hear a big, booming voice out on the set.

  “You’re a kid?!”

  It’s Joe Amodio. I recognize his boom.

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  That’s Gilda. I think my producer just met my new director.

  Chapter 55

  CAUTION: CHILDREN AT PLAY

  I wheel myself out to the set as fast as I can. Donna Dinkle is smirking as I fly by.

  “I always said TV was run by a bunch of children, but this is ridiculous!” Mr. Amodio is shouting. Rose Skye Wilder winces and moves away from earsplitting range.

  “She’s doing a fantastic job, Joe,” says Mr. Wetmore, leaping to Gilda’s defense. “The fact that she’s young just makes her that much more of a genius.”

  “Yeah,” I say, sticking up for my friend. “What he said. Gilda’s a genius.”

  Gilda blushes. “You really think so, Jamie?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “B-b-but…” Mr. Amodio is sputtering. “My money… my millions…”

  “My money is on the two kids,” says Jacky Hart, coming onstage with a fake zombie arm dangling out of her shirt.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  She shrugs. “Fell off. And pretty soon, I won’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “Welcome to
the club,” I crack.

  “Joe, I’m Jacky Hart.”

  “I know who you are, Ms. Hart. I love you on SNL! And you’re absolutely fantastic in that movie Cracking Up. I’m hearing Oscar buzz.”

  “Maybe you should see an ear doctor about that.”

  Mr. Amodio has stopped sputtering and is finally smiling.

  “You know, Joe,” Jacky says, “I took on a lot when I was Gilda’s age. Someday I’ll write a book about it.”

  “She’s just a kid.”

  “And she’s the best director you’ve got, not to mention the only one. Now, we have a show to prep.”

  “We sure do!” Mr. Amodio claps Gilda on the back and starts making a little speech to the cast and crew. “Welcome aboard, kiddo. I am so proud to be associated with Jamie Funnie. With Gilda here at the helm and Jamie in the starring role, not to mention all the other kids in the cast, this show is going to make TV history. Either that or tank. I’m hoping for history. How about you guys?”

  Everyone cheers and gives Mr. Amodio’s pep talk a rousing ovation.

  Except Donna Dinkle.

  She’s kind of lurking off to the side, flapping her arms like they’re stubby wings, and making “gobble-gobble” turkey sounds that no one hears but me.

  Oh, yeah. She’s definitely looking for this show to tank. Big-time.

  Chapter 56

  MAKE ROOM FOR ZOMBIES!

  The clock is ticking.

  We have time for one last rehearsal before they start letting the studio audience take their seats.

  “Let’s run the zombie bit,” says Gilda. “Where’s my space lizard?”

  “Greetings, earthling,” says Charlie Garner, the other SNL cast member, who’ll be making a surprise appearance on my show. He’s costumed just like he was on Saturday night.

  “We save you for last,” says Gilda.

  “You got it, bubelah,” says Garner, who’s already in character.

  “You sure you don’t want me in this scene?” shouts Donna Dinkle from her perch in the cafeteria set. “I could make funny faces and pretend like the zombies are grossing me out. I do a great ‘gag me now’ gesture.”

  “We’re better off saving you for the cafeteria scene,” Gilda tells her. “We need to meet a fresh face in the second act.”

  “Because my face will have fallen off by then,” cracks Jacky, who’s in flesh-melting zombie makeup.

  Every time we rehearse the scene, Jacky and her zombie friends ad-lib something even funnier than the last time we did it. I just sit there, pretending to work my arms as I fake-roll down the green screen “street,” and let the gags fly. I have a couple, too.

  “So, did you hear about the new zombie dating book?” I say to Jacky Hart.

  She shakes her head, and her rubber nose flies off. “Sorry. Runny nose. What’s the zombie dating book called?”

  “Dying to Meet You!”

  “Oh. That’s a real knee-slapper. Wait, where’s my knee? Did I slap it off?”

  I point toward the floor. “It’s in your shoe.”

  None of that was in the script. But it might be in the show! Because the crew is cracking up.

  All of a sudden, I can’t wait for it to be eight.

  We retreat to our dressing rooms around seven.

  The ushers open the doors for our studio audience at seven thirty. A lot of those kids in wheelchairs are back.

  This time, I promise, I’ll give them the kind of performance they deserve. One with words and, hopefully, lots of laughs.

  Mr. Wetmore brings his daughter, Serena, backstage in her wheelchair to meet me. She has cerebral palsy, but that doesn’t stop her from smiling the sunniest smile I’ve ever seen in my whole life.

  “Jamie… you’re my… favorite!”

  It takes her a little time to get the words out, but I don’t mind. When I look in her eyes, I can see all sorts of happiness. She makes me feel happy, too.

  Chapter 57

  GO TIME FOR SHOWTIME!

  The stage manager, a lady named Gretchen who is wearing a head microphone like a football coach, comes into my dressing room.

  “Jamie? Gilda’s ready for you on set.”

  I wipe my hands on my pants to dry them off. “So this is it?”

  “Yep,” says Serena. “Break… a… leg, Jamie.”

  “No, thanks. Been there. Done that.”

  “It’s a theater expression,” says Mr. Wetmore. “‘Break a leg’ means ‘Good luck.’”

  “I know. But, with me, they really ought to change it to ‘Blow a tire.’”

  “Okay,” says Serena. “Blow… a… tire, Jamie!”

  Mr. Wetmore takes Serena, who’s laughing so hard she’s rocking in her wheelchair, back to her parking spot in the front row. I roll behind the scenery and make my way toward the comedy club backdrop, where I’ll do my opening monologue.

  As I cruise across the stage, all those kids in wheelchairs start applauding. Some even start up a “Jay-mee, Jay-mee!” chant. It’s awesome.

  Soon, the whole audience (except my fans in their wheelchairs) is on its feet and cheering. Uncle Frankie. The Smileys. Cool Girl and her parents. Gaynor and Pierce are standing right behind Gilda, who’s standing right behind camera one.

  I can’t tell you how great it is to have my three best buds in the whole world so close on such a big night.

  “We’re live in five,” says Gilda when I take my position behind the microphone stand in front of the brick wall of the comedy club set. “And, Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember: You funny!”

  Gaynor and Pierce both shoot me double thumbs-ups.

  I’m feeling pretty great. Running my lines in my head. Getting into the zone.

  And then I see Stevie Kosgrov and Lars Johannsen.

  The two delinquents are skulking around backstage, checking out all the electric cables they can yank out of plugs.

  They’re about to sabotage my show.

  Chapter 58

  BULLY STAMPEDE

  A good director sees everything that happens on his or her set. Fortunately, Gilda is a great director.

  She turns to Gretchen, the stage manager. “Alert security. Two goons stage right. Lose them.”

  “On it,” says Gretchen. She touches her earpiece. Mumbles something.

  Two seconds later, my big, burly bodyguards have Stevie and Lars cornered.

  “We’re just here to see the show,” blubbers Stevie. “My cousin, the crip from Cornball, is the star.”

  “And Lars from Mars is supposed to be me!” shouts Lars.

  “You boys can watch it out back,” says one of the giant security guards. “We have a special TV set up there just for the two of you.”

  The guards escort the bullies out of the building.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Which is a good thing. Because Gilda just said, “We’re live in fifteen seconds.”

  The stage manager is pointing at me with all five fingers, ready to do her countdown.

  The theme music and prerecorded opening credits fill every TV in the soundstage.

  “Live from New York,” booms an announcer, “it’s Jamie Funnie, starring Jamie Grimm, the funniest kid comic on the planet. Also starring Donna Dinkle as Jillda Jewel. Tonight’s special guest stars—direct from Saturday Night Live—Jacky Hart and Charlie Garner. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is, Jaaaaay-meeeeee Griiiiiiiimmmmmmmm!”

  The stage manager points at me.

  The red light on top of camera one blinks awake.

  I’m on.

  Chapter 59

  IF YOU’RE TALKING, YOU’RE NOT CHOKING

  I smile and look straight into the camera lens.

  I launch into my monologue. I do it exactly as scripted, until the end. “Bullies don’t read. Not even in the bathroom. I guess that might explain why the biggest bully at my middle school, this incredible hulk everybody calls Lars from Mars, brushes his teeth with pimple cream. Read the label, Lars. Oh
, right. You don’t like to read. Every morning, you spray your armpits with a can of Cheez Whiz. No wonder you have that rodent problem in your locker.”

  I do a quick bucktoothed rat nibble.

  “Nom, nom, nom.”

  Gilda’s checking her script.

  Because those last couple of lines aren’t in it. She smiles.

  And the audience is loving it.

  The lights come up over on the Frownie family kitchen set. Mrs. Frownie is pretending to holler out the back door to me while I quickly roll over to the green screen to do the zombie bit.

  “Jamie? Be careful on your way to school. The radio said today’s a zombie alert day. And some of our neighbors only sleep when they’re dead tired.”

  When I’m in front of the green screen, I fake like I’m pumping my wheels and talk directly to camera three.

  “That’s not what Mrs. Frownie really said. It’s just what I heard. Because I have a very vivid imagination.”

  Extras playing flesh-dangling zombies start slouching past me.

  “My neighbors are mostly sleepy-eyed commuters, shuffling off to work every morning like they’re brain-dead. So to me, they look like zombies. Especially Mrs. Smith from next door.”

  Jacky Hart lumbers onstage. The audience gives her a round of entrance applause.

  She waves at me. Her hand goes flying.

  “Come on, kid,” she says, “give me a hand. I just lost mine.”

  “So, um, what’s your favorite street around here?” I ask her.

  “The dead ends. Gotta go, kid. Pleased to eat you.”

  And that’s when Charlie Garner, playing his space lizard, lurches down the street. “Hey, Jamie. I’m the funniest kid comic on my planet. I was robbed in that contest and I want a rematch. I challenge you to another battle of wits.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I never fight an unarmed alien.”