The Return of the Jill and Megan Sessions

I used to do a series of dialogue thingys featuring Jill Farren Phelps, Executive Producer of General Hospital and Megan McTavish, recently fired Head Writer of All My Children. I've been feeling the urge to write one again, so here it is. I plan this to be the first in a new series.

The Jill and Megan Sessions

The End

A phone rings.

JILL: Yello.

ASSISTANT: Ms. Phelps, I have Megan McTavish for you.

JILL: Ugh. Tell her I’m in a meeting.

ASSISTANT: Um…I already said you were in before she told me who it was. I think she was doing a voice.

JILL: Fine. But I’m going to need-

ASSISTANT: Cherry or Regular, ma’am?

JILL: Regular. But get some Schweppes’ Bitter Lemon to cut it with.

ASSISTANT: Of course, ma’am. Connecting you now.

JILL: Meg! It’s so great to hear from you!

MEGAN: Cut the crap, Phelps. I need a job. You signed a blood oath when I became an FOJ. I slaughtered a calf for you, lady. Get me a job.

JILL: Now I remember why I never mix Peyote and Robitussin.

MEGAN: Phelps!

JILL: Look, what can I tell you, Meg? Frons is done with you. P&G has never forgiven either of us for killing Maureen.

MEGAN: I DIDN’T KILL MAUREEN! I KILLED NADINE. Jesus.

JILL: Well? They hate us.

MEGAN: It was Hitchcockian!

JILL: It was crap, Megan. Ric Hearst still turns purple at the mention of your name.

MEGAN: You said it was brilliant!

JILL: I was high!

MEGAN: You’re always high!

JILL: No, I’m always employed.

MEGAN: Bitch. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I love the fact that you finally get to be the EP of a top-rated show and the leading man won’t even take his shirt off. I mean, the irony is so rich.

JILL: As long as we are clearing the air I just want to say that resurrecting a cryogenically stored Stavros Cassadine is the stupidest story I’ve ever seen.

MEGAN: That was your idea, Jill. That was all you. I wanted Laura’s heretofore unmentioned sister and her white trash daughter to come and fuck half the town. Unfrozen Stavros was your idea. Remember we took that trip to Belize?

JILL: Right. My bad.

MEGAN: Look, Jill, I’m calling as your friend. The only one who knows where you keep that creepy life-size Kale Brown Real Doll. I need a favor. You know what my expenses are.

JILL: I thought you always wanted to start a business illegally importing tropical fish for sale on the black market? Do that.

MEGAN: Do you have any idea what the overhead is on that? Not to mention the travel? You know I hate meeting new people.

JILL: It wasn’t the most practical dream, was it?

MEGAN: It was not. Head Writing, that’s what I do. I want to rape virginal lesbians again, Jill.

JILL: I know, honey. But I can’t help. All I’m doing right now is keeping my head down and hoping no one notices I’m still here. It’s almost like Frons has finally lost his appetite for starlets. There’s a doom in the air here.

MEGAN: There’s always doom in the air there when Guza shows up. Has he revealed Steve Hardy to be a pedophile yet? Because you know it’s coming.

JILL: You unaborted Erica’s baby, Meg. I’m surprised Agnes hasn’t garroted you in an alley by now.

MEGAN: Seriously. She kept leaving these answering machine messages. You wouldn’t believe them. They were insane.

JILL: Like, Robin Strasser messages?

MEGAN: Worse. Much worse. Words I didn’t even think women of her generation knew. In combinations that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Several things she threatened to do to me I had to Google just to figure out.

JILL: Don’t piss her off. You got the same warning when you started that I did.

MEGAN: You have to help me.

JILL: I can’t. Look. Hold on for a second.

Click

ASSISTANT: Yes, Ms. Phelps.

JILL: I need you to get Brian Frons on the phone for me right away. Tell him we finally have a role for Eris Hershey Presley.

ASSISTANT: Yes ma’am.

After a moment.

Brian: Jill, this better be important. Rosie drew horns on a picture of Elisabeth again. The crying. Dear God, the crying.

JILL: McTavish won’t leave me alone. She wants a job and I think she’ll resort to blackmail if she has to and neither of us can afford that.

BRIAN: All right. I was afraid of this. Didn’t want to have to take care of two, but I’ll do it. She won’t bother you again.

JILL: Brian, you’re not going to, like, whack her or something?

BRIAN: Of course not. She’ll live out a long and healthy life in paradise. But it’s what we have to do sometimes. Sometimes someone just needs to go away. I’ve already said too much. Just tell her we may have a job for her on a SoapNet project. Schedule a meeting with her and me next week.

JILL: And what will we tell her then?

BRIAN: Oh, she won’t be coming to the meeting.

JILL: Okay.

BRIAN: Bye, Jill.

Click

JILL: Hello, Megan.

MEGAN: I thought you were just keeping me on hold until I hung up.

JILL: I was talking to Frons. He said to bring him a pitch for a SoapNet series. Like the thing we’re doing with Robin Scorpio naked on the posters.

MEGAN: Really?

JILL: Yeah.

MEGAN: Thank you so much, Jill.

JILL: Of course. I need to go now, Meg.

MEGAN: Of course. Thank you.

JILL: Sure…and Megan. I love you.

MEGAN: Okay. Bye.

JILL: Goodbye.

MEGAN: Well, I guess I better start coming up with some stories, hmmm, guys?

CHORUS OF SEVENTEEN CATS: Meow?

MEGAN: What do you think? Llanview After Dark. Evangeline opens a Blues Club. We meet her long lost blonde sister. And I’ll bring Troy MacIver back.

Megan does not hear the window opening or the soft thwoosh of the dart.

MEGAN: Ow.

Megan falls to the floor. Some time later she wakes up, the quiet roar of the surf behind her, sand beneath her.

MEGAN: Whuh…Where am I?

Megan looks up at the sandy beach. A grove of palm trees sways in the distance. She sees no one.

MEGAN: Hello! Can anyone hear me! What the fuck? Am I dreaming? Is that why I am talking to myself? That’s it. I’m having one of the freako James Reilly dreams.

DENA: Megan? Is that you? Where the hell are we?

MEGAN: Dena? Dena Higley?

DENA: Yeah. I just woke up here down the beach a ways. What happened?

MEGAN: I don’t know. I was just at home and I felt something in my neck and now I’m here.

DENA: Same here. I was working on one of my series oil paintings.

MEGAN: The one’s where major feminist figures through history are torturing Trevor St. John?

DENA: Yes. This one featured Joan of Arc and a Catherine wheel.

MEGAN: Neat. So, you just…

DENA: Felt a sting. And then I was here.

MEGAN: But where is here?

DENA: I have no idea.

MEGAN: Wait? What’s that? That piece of wood nailed to that tree?

DENA: I don’t know. Let’s go see it.

MEGAN: “Welcome to…” What are those words?

DENA: I don’t know….”SPILLIH PANRI”

MEGAN: What is that? Swahili?

DENA: I don’t think so.

A male voice softly oozes in behind them.

PAUL: Ladies! There’s nothing to worry about!

Megan and Dena turn to see a tall older gentleman wearing a fine white linen suit and a Panama hat.

MEGAN: Paul? Paul Rauch?

PAUL: Yes, Megan. Welcome. You, too, Dena.

DENA: What is this place?

PAUL: It’s my island. It’s a resort of sorts, for people like yourselves.

MEGAN: Like us?

PAUL: Exactly like you. Now, my assistant Wes here will escort you to your bungalows.

MEGAN: Wait, what is going on? What the hell is this? Where are we?

PAUL: My dears, welcome to the Island of Wayward Head Writers.

Megan and Dena exchange looks.

PAUL: Now, come.

MEGAN: Paul, I want to go home.

PAUL: You are home, my dear. Please, follow me. Everyone is so excited to see you. I hear Harding even made some of his famous ambrosia salad. There’s no use fighting it, ladies.

DENA: What do we do, Megan?

MEGAN: I don’t know. I guess we follow him.

PAUL: Good. Wes, I want Dena in the Pointless Sweeps Stunt Suite and Megan in the Unnecessary Retcon Villa. You’re going to love it here, ladies. I promise.

With one last look, Megan and Dena follow Wes Kenney into the jungle. Paul pulls out a satellite phone.

PAUL: Frons. They’re here.

BRIAN: Excellent.

PAUL: What shall I tell them about the Others?

BRIAN: Tell them nothing. The safety of the island is too important to trust to those two nutbars. Just play it exactly as we planned it.

PAUL: Yes, sir.

BRIAN: And, Paul?

PAUL: Yes?

BRIAN: Keep an eye on Agnes. She’s liable to do something rash.

PAUL: I’ve got Tomlin on it.

BRIAN: Excellent.

DENA: I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Megan.

MEGAN: Just stick close to me. We’ll get through this.

Jill’s phone rings.

JILL: Hello.

BRIAN: It’s done.

JILL: Thank you. Any chance you can…

BRIAN: Guza stays, Jill. Those glasses scare the crap out of me.

JILL: Fine. Where is she?

BRIAN: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

To be continued…