“Rob! I need you in my office, now!” Mike Michaels says into his Bluetooth. He hangs up, walks passed his set of slave workers and into his office. He sits downs, spins his chair around and waits to hear the sound of the door opening.

“Mr. Michaels, you wanted me, sir,” asks the frightened intern, his Blackberry ready in hand.

Mike smiles grimly and spins his chair slowly around to face Rob. “Hollywood teen stars are getting very dry. What do you think we should do?”

“Um… find new teens that can quickly replace them,” Rob asks, shaking.

“That is a great idea,” Mike smiles. “Call Rhonda, get her to schedule auditions for young beautiful girls that can sing. Tell her to pick and send… five of them over here to Hollywood,” Michaels says. “We need new fresh stars. These ones are so annoying, snobby and drab.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do that right away,” he says. His Blackberry saving all the data. “Anything else sir,” he asks, looking up at me.

“Nothing more, you are dismissed,” Mike says slowly, spinning his chair around. “Ah and tell her they better be nice, sweet and single.”

Mike chuckles, darkly. He hears the sound of the door close. “Hollywood will be full of stars that come from my agency instead of that stupid Articks Company, full of stupid snobby teenagers,” Mike glowers then smiles. “One of these five girls will stand out, I just know it.”

The End

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