Crossing the Line

Short Fiction ~ Kevin Cheeseman

Third Prize, Strands International Flash Fiction Competition - 19  

‘Have you taken your medicine today?’
Benny Adler smiled – not at hearing Mitzi utter her famous catchphrase, but at the wild reaction of the television studio audience. They didn’t care how familiar the line was; on the contrary, it was what they’d come to hear. They were whooping and whistling so much that the actors had to wait for quiet before continuing.
Benny tried to remember how long ago the episode had been filmed. Thirty or forty years, maybe? Watching it now, in his room in a downmarket care home, he reflected on the craft that went into eliciting that reaction. It wasn’t the line itself that was funny – he should know, he wrote it – it was all in the build-up and in Mitzi’s delivery.
The build-up was always the same. Harold – Mitzi’s husband in the show – would work himself up into a state of agitation about something or other until finally erupting in fury. They had rules, though. When Harold had his tantrum, he never touched or even stood close to Mitzi, and he never broke or threw anything. The slightest intimation of violence and his behaviour would cross the line from funny to disturbing.
Mitzi’s reaction was a comedy masterclass. The look of reproach. The precisely timed pause. Then the perfect delivery of the line that pops Harold’s balloon.
‘Have you taken your medicine today?’
Cue audience explosion.
Watching the actors wait for calm, Benny focused on the actor playing Harold – Jeff something. No – Jack. Unlike the others in the scene, Jack wasn’t struggling to keep a straight face. He probably wasn’t amused.
‘How come you give Mitzi all the best lines?’ he used to say. ‘Why don’t you write some zingers for Harold? I can deliver a line as well as she can.’
Benny had tried telling Jack they were his laughs as much as Mitzi’s. That Mitzi’s catchphrase would be meaningless without all his work in the build-up. Eventually, Benny had tired of playing nice and reminded Jack who the star of the show was.
‘Check the front page of your script, Jack. The show is called “Mitzi and Co.” Now get over it.’
That had told Jack. Or Jeff, or whatever his damned name was.
A knock on the door interrupted Benny’s reminiscences, and Ashley, one of the carers, walked in. Something about Ashley appealed to Benny, and it wasn’t just that she was half his age and wore a crisp blue uniform.
‘Morning, Benny. How are you today?’
Ashley rubbed sanitising gel into her hands, and her eyes darted around the room. Benny found it slightly intimidating that Ashley could appraise his physical and mental health from a five-second scan of him and his surroundings. He wondered what involuntary signals he was sending and if he would pass muster.
‘Have you had any breakfast, Benny?’
‘Yes. I think so.’
Benny thought he’d had yoghurt and fresh fruit, but maybe that was yesterday. Besides, wasn’t it Ashley’s job to know?
‘I don’t see a bowl or anything,’ Ashley said. ‘I’ll check – make sure they didn’t miss you out. Don’t want you wasting away, do we?’
Ashley made to leave, but the TV caught her attention.
‘She’s great, isn’t she? What’s her name again?’
‘Mitzi Lang.’
She was officially Mitzi Adler at that time, but Benny didn't care to discuss that. Mitzi’s decision to keep working under her maiden name had been a canny move, considering the show ended up outlasting their marriage.
Ashley nodded in recognition at the name.
‘Of course – Mitzi and Co. My mum and dad used to love this programme.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
‘Oh, is this one of yours? I should have guessed. And here it is, still on TV after all these years. Must have earned you a fortune, eh?’
‘If only,’ Benny snorted. ‘I could do with a fortune, the amount they charge for this place.’
‘It doesn’t go on my wages, Benny, believe me.’ Ashley opened the door. ‘I’ll go and ask about your breakfast. Back in a bit.’
The conversation with Ashley had unsettled Benny. He muted the TV, watched the actors mouth his lines, and wondered how he’d ended up in this shabby cell. He deserved better than this, he thought. He picked up his phone and looked up the number for Alan Goldsmith, his former agent. He dialled, then paced the floor, fretting that Al’s number might have changed.
‘Alan Goldsmith.’
‘Al? It’s Benny.’
‘Benny – how the hell are you? What’s happening?’
‘I’m watching Mitzi and Co on TV.’
‘At nine o’clock in the morning?’
‘It’s on all the damned time, Al. Five days a week. They show all six series, then they start over again.’
‘Incredible. I mean – it was always a great programme, but who would have imagined they’d still be showing it thirty-odd years later? That’s terrific.’
‘Maybe, but it got me thinking – why the hell aren’t I getting paid for all these re-runs? I could use those damned royalties.’
Benny heard Al hesitate, and he felt himself getting increasingly worked up. He was vaguely aware that the answer to his question was in his own head if only he could locate it.
‘You’re not due any royalties, Benny. You signed the rights over to Mitzi in the divorce settlement. Remember? You kept the house and most of your cash, but you let her have the TV rights. You were pretty pleased with the arrangement, as I recall….’
Something exploded inside Benny. He smashed the phone on the TV cabinet and hurled the shattered device at the wall. As he did so, he saw that Ashley was standing watching him. He strode up to her and let out a scream of frustration in her face.
Ashley took a step back, and Benny felt a shiver of recognition at her ice-cool response. It was all there, every element: the look of reproach, the precisely timed pause, and the perfect delivery of that familiar line.
‘Have you taken your medicine today?’            

~

Kevin Cheeseman is a retired biochemist who lives in Buckinghamshire, UK, with his wife, Annie. Having spent half his career in academia and the other half in drug development for a pharmaceutical company, he feels liberated now that he’s allowed just to make stuff up. He writes mainly flash fiction and short stories, and his pieces have won or been placed in competitions run by Writing Magazine, Writers’ Forum, 1000 Word Challenge and Wild Atlantic Writing Awards, amongst others.

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