no people. no lies.

Jack Tait needed money and so he called his good buddy Ralph who ran an “extras agency” for film and television. 
“any work out there Ralph?  I need some cash for booze.”
“There’s a new Canadian show called Detour or something like that.  I’m sure I can get you on it.  Do you still have that huge beard?”
“yeah why is that a problem?”
“well these tv shows don’t seem to like beards.  they think that beards portray rebellious behaviour and the networks feel that beards may affect ratings.”
“really?  what a hunk of shit!!!”
“I know Jack but that’s the way the industry is these days.  they don’t want men.  they want little pussies who pretend they are men.”
“so can you get me in or what?”
“yeah…it’s just background work.  nobody even sees you.  you will be like a blur on the screen but get paid 200 bucks to do it.”
“amazing!!!  thanks buddy.  appreciate it.”
and with that call, Jack had a gig.
he went to bed drunk and woke up hungover but this was no different than any other day except this day Jack had to work…or walk…or whatever the fuck extra’s do in the film and television business.
Jack hopped on his blue tricycle and rode down the long driveway.  he turned right onto the long barren road and continued pedalling.  after three hours Jack Tait arrived on set.  he knew that he had to wear clothes so he wore clothes.  he even brought an extra set of clothes.  his buddy Ralph told him to do this.
Jack jumped off of his blue tricycle and walked into the big building where all the “extra’s” were being held.  sort of like prison with prison guards yelling orders and looking down on the “extras”.  the prison guards on this set were the costume dressers and the first and second and even third assistant directors.  so many people for such shitty shows.
anyway, Jack Tait arrived and gave his name to the third assistant director.  he then sat down and checked out all the other “extra’s” who were all talking about their dull lives and cracking dull jokes.  such a cast of misfits.  they came in all sizes and all shapes.  all ages and all genders.  all dull.  maybe one who wasn’t but ALL wanting to MAKE IT and doing anything they could to be noticed.
after twenty minutes the costume dresser spoke, “alright all “extra’s” line up outside and show me what you brought.”  her name was Starr and she thought she was.  but in reality just an old washed up puppet for a shitty industry with shitty hours and shitty pay.
“Okay what did you bring…hurry up…hurry up.  we don’t have all day.  the director wants to start.”
this line was repeated over and over to all the extra’s and they didn’t question the rudeness.  they took it in the ass the way they had always taken it in the ass.  all done with the hopes of “making it” in a shitty industry which produces shitty people and shitty product.
then Starr came to Jack Tait.  “what did you bring?  let me see.”
“okay I brought what I’m wear-“
“good.  good.  what else?  what else?  we don’t have all-“
“You’re not letting me finish.”
“Hurry up.  hurry up.  the director wants to start.”
“well then he should have brought us down earlier.”
“Just hurry up and get ready.”
“I am ready.”
“I mean show me your other outfit.”
“there…right there.  Good?”
“Yup good.  hurry up let’s all get out there.”
so all of the sheep (extra’s) walked outside to the big park area where the big shot director was sitting on his ass under a tent watching a screen and barking orders to all of his minions which included assistant directors,  grips, camera operators, production assistant’s, paid off duty officers, etc, etc, etc.
so many people for so little quality.  typical.
all the extra’s lined up and were ordered by some director to “walk this way.  walk that way.  then turn around and do the same thing.”
Jack Tait did as he was told for once and walked towards a bench.  he then turned around and walked back.
“cut.”  the first assistant director yelled.
“back to ones.”  he continued.
all the extra’s walked back to where they started from and got prepared to do it all again.
“camera rolling.  speed and background action.”
Jack Tait and all the other extra’s walked the same way they did on the first take.  the sun was shining bright.
“cut…you…the guy with the straw hat.  walk the other way away from the camera.”
“okay.”  said Jack Tait and on the next few takes he walked away from the camera.
after one or two takes of walking away from camera the first assistant director yelled “cut” again and walked over to the second assistant director who then spoke with the costume dresser who then walked briskly and anxiously over to Jack Tait.
“hurry up we have to go back and change.  the director doesn’t like your hat and beard.  he thinks you should be on a beach.”
“what?  this is what I always wear.  we’re in a big city.  people wear all kinds of different clothes.”
“well that’s what he said.  he wants you to look more conservatively like a detective.”
“am I a detective?”
“no.”
“then why does that fucker want me to look like a detective?”
“i don’t know but hurry up.  hurry up.  let’s go.”
Jack Tait walked extra slow mumbling some obscene words under his breath.
Starr continued to push and jab Jack Tait.
“hurry up.  let’s go.  what’s taking you so long?”
“why can’t I have a beard?  sooooo stupid.  such a stupid fucking cliché.  this show will be shit like all the other shitty Canadian shows!!!  Nobody watches this shit.  how does this shit even get money to shoot this shit???  such garbage.”
“well tell that to the director.  I’m just taking orders.”
“I will…where is he?  such a fucking puppet.  where is he???”
Jack Tait stormed over to the director who was still sitting under the shitty tent.  he was clean shaven and wearing glasses.  he looked like he was probably an accountant before some rich cunt told him that he should be a film director.  or a tv director.  or a commercial director.  or a puppet.  or a maggot or whatever other synonym there is out there to use on such a tool.
“WHY CAN’T I HAVE A BEARD?  WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEARDS?”
“who are you?”  the accountant asked.
“I”M JACK TAIT.  BACKGROUND PERFORMER.”
“are you serious?  sit down and shut up or I”ll call the union.”
“FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT.  DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD SHIT IS?  HAVE YOU HEARD OF CASSAVETTES?  OR VON TRIER?  OR TERRENCE MALLICK?  WHAT ABOUT KUBRICK OR SCORSESE?  HAVE YOU HEARD OF ANYBODY GOOD?  YOU ARE A PUPPET MY FRIEND.  A PUPPET WHO GETS PAID WELL TO PRODUCE SHIT.  SHIT THAT NO ONE WATCHES.  NO ONE TALKS ABOUT.  IRRELEVANT DRIVEL.  YOU WILL BE ON YOUR DEATHBED AND BE IRRELEVANT.  FUCK YOU!!!”
and with that outburst Jack Tait calmly walked back to the prison to get his clothes.  he laughed at all of the inmates who listened to people calling them “dumb” and “stupid” and “you’re just a prop so such up and walk.”
he couldn’t believe people accepted such rudeness.  rude peasants in a rude industry.  an industry that produces garbage but makes money for it’s circle of friends. 
“FUCK ALL OF YOU!!!”  Jack Tait yelled as he hopped on his blue tricycle and rode away.  naked.  alone.  his one ball scraping the ground.
he rode and rode and rode.  he had a big smile as the cold wind hit his red face.  a good effort ruined by peasants.  peasants constantly getting in the way of good work.  Jack Tait arrived at home and still had no money.  no booze.  he jumped into his dirty bed and tried to meditate his way to sleep but it did not work.  in fact it never worked.  nothing ever worked except booze.  but the peasants always telling Jack that booze is bad for him.
a never ending life of bullshit that only gets better when Jack Tait sees people less.
no people.  no lies.