The Almost Report Un-Sticks Itself From the Script

[Wyvern]

Jagged waves of static flash across the broadcasting screen before the tilted image of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ flickers into focus. Though it’s difficult to tell which part of the quarters the cameras rest in, the sideways slant of the lenses and clear shot of the floor suggest a lack of troglyodytes on hand to man it. The news cameras rattle after a five minute wait, however, and turn in the direction of CheerMynx’s four-poster. Wyvern sits in his regular spot at the edge of the cheerline’s bed, with several memos tagged to his horns and list of the Report’s weekly spendings clutched in one of his claws. The overgrown lizard adjusts the mish-mash of leftover outfits from previous reports that cover his scales, with the shrunken barber’s bib adding very little to his beach shorts and Rod Sterling suit top. He straightens his crooked geld-design tie and sets his spending sheet aside, glancing up at the ceiling nervously before turning his eyes towards the cameras. Wyvern doesn’t speak, glancing around the room for several minutes before finally clearing his throat.

 

“Ssso uhhh, are you gonna gimme a cue or…?” Wyvern pauses as a troglyodyte scampers onto the screen, whispers something, then scampers back off. The reptilian reporter twists his snout and raises a claw to one of his horns. “Right. W-wait, ssso we’re rolling then? Yeesh, hiya folks.”

 

Wyvern strikes a nervous grin and waves a claw timidly at the cameras.

 

“Anyway ummm, so, Almost Report time. Like always. Yyyup.” Wyvern twiddles his claws and taps his tail stinger on the edge of CheerMynx’s mattress. “So errrr, to save geld we sorta did this thing where we’re reporting, except we don’t really have a script y’know? So we sorta, uh, jussst improvise instead. I guess.”

 

Wyvern reaches into the front pocket of his suit and removes an ash-covered handkerchief before pulling out a scrap of paper labeled “Nooz Itemz.” He reads over the various items for several minutes in silence, then smooths down the scales on the top of his head and hisses softly.

 

“So, um, well let’sss see here. I guess that we can start things off with the birthdays. I mean, why not right?” Wyvern flashes an extra-toothy smile at the cameras to save face, then lifts the note to his snout again. “So according to this lissst of news items, http://www.patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?act=...mp;m=12&d=6</a>'>lumpenproletariat and drummondo both had birthdays… last week it looks like, yep. Anyway, y’know, just wanna send some, well… not gifts, cus ummm we’re low on geld, but best wishes maybe? Yeah, that soundsss good. So best wishes, you two!”

 

Wyvern claps his claws together, then lifts himself up from the bed and turns to pace back and forth through CheerMynx’s quarters while thinking of something to say. The overgrown lizard’s tail swings back and forth from out the large hole in the back of his beach shorts, which reveals more scales than most would deem necessary.

 

“Errr, so we got some other news stuff here, or reminders at least I think. I see ‘XL Wolf,’ ‘first poetry line,’ and ‘redef’ all sssscribbled here but am not sssure if I remember what they stand for. I think the poetry one was maybe something about a line which you stand in to read poetry? And then you can pay a geld fine to Almost Dragonic Inc. if you want to avoid the line or something? Sounds about right.”

 

Wyvern stops pacing and flips the news scrap around, snorting as he comes up short of any other news items and spreading his wings for a moment.

 

“Well, I guess that about sums it up. I mean, I didn’t miss anything much right?” Wyvern stares into the news camera lenses in the hopes of a response. “All thingssss considered, I think this geld-saving non-scripted report thing worked out pretty well in the end. Don’t ya think?”

 

“But Wyvern, aren’t most of our Reports unscripted?”

 

“SSSHHHH!” Wyvern glares at the troglyodyte that had spoken up and raises a claw to his snout. He approaches the troglyodyte and hisses in a hushed and furious tone. “Don’t go and ruin one of our few ssscripted Reports you moron! Aren’t you sssupposed to be off delivering CheerMynx her linesss anyway?”

 

Wyvern tears at the scales on his head for a moment, then flashes his teeth at the cameras as the troglyodyte he had spoken to scurries off. The reptilian reporter then sets back to pacing near CheerMynx’s bed, praying that his poor choice of shorts will survive the stretching that will inevitably occur in CheerMynx's half of the show...

[CheerMynx]

"WYVIE?!" Wyvern jumped in shock at the sound of CheerMynx's voice. The cheerline's cry was a lot louder and...screechier than Wyvern was used to hearing.

The rumpled creature that stomped into the room was also much more frazzled than Wyvern was used to seeing.

CheerMynx's outfit looked like it had started as a preppy (if morally questionable) high school skirt and blouse ensemble. The present result, however, was as if she had gone running through the woods and missed her hair and makeup appointments. She also looked to be on the verge of tears. Crumpled in one paw was a few pages of what looked suspiciously like a script.

"What's this?" she wavered, holding up the pages. Wyvern coughed, half in confusion and half in a reflexive admission of guilt (even though for once he wasn't sure if he was guilty).

"It'sss your ssscript?" he guessed. More tears welled up in the cheerline's eyes.

"You mean it's, like, not a joke?" her bottom lip quivered.

Wyvern shifted nervously in place, suddenly very aware that he was in dangerous but unknown territory.

"Uhhh....yesss?" he hazarded, praying it was the right answer.

Apparently, it wasn't. With a loud sob, CheerMynx flung the script at Wyvern's feet and ran out the door, sobbing into her paws.

Panicking slightly, Wyvern picked up the script and began scanning it for an explanation. His jaw dropped when he finally found the line:

 

ENTER: CHEERMYNX, acting MORE OF AN IDIOT THAN USUAL

"Ooooooh no." Wyvern gulped, before he dropped the script and ran after CheerMynx, making a mental note to fire his scriptwriter.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern wails and darts off in a flash after CheerMynx, barging past several cameramen and nearly ramming the cheerline’s bedroom door off of its hinges. The overgrown lizard soars into the next room and slides to an awkward halt on the floor in front of CheerMynx, leaving several trampled cameras and one extra-trampled scriptwriter in his wake.

 

“WAIT, wait CheerMynx, there’ssss been a terrible misssunderstanding!” Wyvern grovels at the Almost Intern’s feet and tears at the former script in his claws, cringing a little more with each of the cheerline’s sobs. “The only idiotssss I can think of at the moment are the ssscriptwriter and Melba, wherever that old hag is now.”

 

“*sob* you think I’m *sniffle* like, stupid or something? *sniff*”

 

“NO nonono, not at all! I-I mean, between your ssstudies, your bright ideasss, and your keen sssense of fashion, you’re far from the regular Almost Intern. Definitely ahead of the curv- err, curb.” Wyvern flashes his best apologetic eyes, his tongue un-knotting itself as CheerMynx stops crying. “Heck, I’d even be willing to sssay that you’re smarter than My-“

 

Wyvern freezes and cuts his sentence short as he notices a steely flash of recognition cross CheerMynx’s eyes. He gulps and suppresses his shivers as he watches the cheerline’s gaze slowly turn towards Mynx’s gigantic weapon-rack…

 

“M-m-my-m-me. Me. Eheheheh. Heh.”