[Rebirth] King of Theater

Mr. Milson takes the writer of the script seriously.

But "Scriptwriter Al" himself wasn't happy about it.

Because of "the boss's attention"...

Poor little employee, he had to revise the "reminder letter to himself" three times.

The introduction is not clear enough, change it!

The tone is not sincere enough, change it!

The content cannot be said to have something to say, change it!

After the revision, Mr. Milson was still not very satisfied.

He held the letter himself, tapped his fingers on the table unconsciously, and said to himself in a dilemma while thinking: "This sentence [Dear friend, I am eagerly and eagerly looking forward to your contribution, Please take care of your body] Is it too tactful? Will it give the other party the illusion that we are not in a hurry to see the follow-up? Why don’t we just delete this sentence? Well, no, wouldn’t it make it appear that we only want to remind the other party? Manuscript, but disregarding the author's own body, too cold, too ruthless!"

I don't know if it's too much attention, or if I'm middle-aged, I can't help being long-winded.

After muttering and rambling on for a long time, Mr. Milson...

Al, who was standing aside, went crazy: "Still changing? There's no end to this!"

Moreover, what is even more frightening is that, apart from the reminder letter, it is impossible to write all the follow-up scripts in a few days.

"God!"

He instantly realized that the development of the whole matter was out of control, and he could no longer hide it.

After all, when a person is cheated for a while, most of the time they are only annoyed afterwards. If the result is good, it might turn into a good talk.

But if a person has been deceived for a long time, and when the truth comes out, no matter the result is good or bad, there will inevitably be angry thoughts of "how dare you fool me for so long".

Therefore, Al made a decisive decision, in order to avoid a worse situation...

He strode forward, rushed in front of Mr. Milson, and said in a voice almost crying, "Sir!"

Mr. Milson, who was contemplating how to write a letter, was taken aback. He subconsciously leaned back and leaned against the back of the chair: "Ah! Al, what's wrong with you?"

Then, he quickly recalled what happened just now: "I'm too picky, did I scare you?"

"No, you're the best and most admirable boss in the world."

Al said very seriously and excitedly: "If there is a competition to select the best boss in the world, I must force everyone around me to vote for you. If anyone dares not to do so, I will break up with him."

"Well! Calm down, calm down, it's a great honor to have you so much."

Mr. Milson tried his best to suppress the curve of the corners of his lips, and tried his best to put on a modest and serious expression.

"But for such a nice you, I did something wrong."

"It's okay, I forgive you."

"What? Forgive? You don't know what I've done!"

Al's eyes widened in surprise.

Mr Milson smiled.

He put on an inscrutable expression of knowing everything: "It's really wrong to sleep during working hours, but it's not an unforgivable big mistake."

"..."

Alton paused, but immediately regained his composure, brewing emotions: "No, sir."

He stretched out his two small arms and opened them to both sides: "The mistake I made is bigger than this! It's much bigger!"

"What? You pierced the sky?"

"Uh... I can't do it."

"Did you murder, set fire and rob?"

"...Although I've always been poor, I'm not material for committing crimes."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"I lied to you! In my opinion, this is much more serious than murder, arson, and robbery."

Mr. Milson laughed again.

His expression at this time may be similar to that of an adult meeting a child who thinks he has caused trouble and is trembling. After all, for a child, accidentally dropping a cup, soiling his clothes, failing an exam, etc., is all a disaster. Same big deal!

But obviously, if adults don't see it that way, they might find it amusing instead.

So, he didn't pay much attention and asked casually: "Okay, little villain, what did you lie to me?"

"I wrote that script."

"..."

silence!

It was as if the pause button had been pressed in the entire office.

It took a long time before Mr. Milson began to react.

He took off his thick glasses, lowered his head, and unconsciously began to wipe the lenses repeatedly with a cloth.

"I remember, the script is about a playboy and three women's entanglement story?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I remember, you are only 13 years old."

"That was last year. I'm fourteen this year."

"Incredible! Incredible! Incredible!"

Mr. Milson repeated it three times in succession, and it was evident how frightened the poor gentleman was.

"Sir, I didn't mean to deceive you! Well, I don't know how to explain this, nor how to beg your pardon."

Al was very eager to explain on the sidelines: "I pretended to be someone else's name at first, but I just didn't want to be treated differently. After all, any normal person who knows that the author is only thirteen or fourteen years old will inevitably have [This is just a child doing something. The slight idea of ​​the game]..."

"Not necessarily."

Mr. Milson put in a sentence: "Liszt gave piano recitals at the age of nine. The world is always full of prodigies."

"You're right, I'm too ignorant." Al quickly echoed.

Then, he continued to explain: "At first, I thought that my level was low and my knowledge was limited. Although I had unrealistic expectations and wanted to try it out, but the script was handed in, and you would probably want to type it back after just a few glances. In this way, I don't have to think about the question of what name to leave..."

"You are too modest."

Mr. Milson listened quietly, not forgetting to be a good joker and give a response from time to time.

"I didn't expect that the script was lucky enough to be chosen by you, and you are still chasing after the following plot..."

"Yeah, what about the next plot?"

"I haven't written it yet."

"Then why don't you hurry up and write?"

"Because I have to write the reminder letter that you told me to write today!"

"..."

One big and one small looked at each other in blank dismay.

Mr. Milson was visibly dumbfounded by this dramatic development, while Al kept his scowl and his hands outstretched in agony.

After a while.

Miss Alice, who was still working in the outer room, heard a burst of loud laughter suddenly in the office in the inner room.

It was the first time since the cast of "The Flower Girl" had disbanded that Mr. Milson hadn't heard a laugh that wasn't dark at all.

She couldn't help but stop what she was doing, and guessed in amazement: "What kind of wonderful script did Al find? It can make the husband so happy."

Mr. Milson laughed until tears came out, and it took him a long time to stop. He wiped the corners of his eyes with a cloth for his glasses, and then put his glasses back on. He sighed: "Mr. Alfred Sylvie, you today It really opened my eyes.”

Al continued to frown.

He asked with a sad face, "You call me so strangely, are you never going to forgive me?"

Mr. Milson said with certainty: "Yes, no forgiveness."

Al pursed his mouth in disappointment and sadness, and was thinking about whether to show sympathy like a child, for example, to perform a big cry on the spot.

But at this time, Mr. Milson added another sentence: "Because I don't think it's something wrong! So, why bother to talk about forgiveness? The playwright has the right to submit anonymously, and what you did is in the Operations within the rules, how can we talk about making any mistakes?"

From full of disappointment to overjoyed...

There was only a mere three seconds between them!

"Ah! You are the nicest and most considerate boss in the world."

Al finally put down a big rock in his heart, and couldn't help showing a look of joy on his face.

Moreover, in order to express his gratitude, he simply relied on his identity as a child, happily ran over, hugged Mr. Milson who was still sitting in the chair very warmly, and kissed his bald head deeply.

The old-fashioned Mr. Milson, who was used to keeping his distance from others, was almost frightened by the kid's enthusiasm again.

But this kind of sincere enthusiasm is actually 12 very useful in his heart. While pretending to refuse in embarrassment, he couldn't help but want to laugh, and at the same time secretly thought to himself, his attitude and behavior just now must have been extraordinarily special. She is beautiful and graceful, tolerant and full of elder spirit, and because of this, she is able to win the respect and love of this talented young employee. I can't help but feel very proud at the moment!

So, a disaster just vanished into nothingness.

Waiting for Al's side to finally stop being so excited...

Mr. Milson simply urged the manuscript face to face.

He casually lumped up the reminder letter that he had written several times before, and threw it into the trash can, while pretending to ask casually: "Al, since you wrote the script, then I'll ask directly. When are you going to write the following plot? Can it be done this week?"

"this week?"

Al's eyes widened in shock: "Sir, there are only three days left in this week! Which playwright can write a script in three days?"

"Not for three days, but for that week."

Mr. Milson relaxed the deadline very leniently, and arranged the work with great interest: "That's good! You should be responsible for urging yourself! (Al:??) Al who urged and Al who wrote the manuscript are very happy. It is compatible. But work is work, and there must be some restrictions. Well, let me think about it... Yes! If I can’t finish writing in two weeks, I will deduct the salary of Al, who is in charge of the manuscript, and deduct [-] per day It's ready."

Al was dumbfounded: "Sir, the salary of Al, who is in charge of prompting manuscripts, is only 30 yuan a week."

Mr. Milson said with a smile: "That's right, so if Al who wrote the manuscript delayed the manuscript for three days, Al who urged the manuscript would lose his salary. When Al who wrote the manuscript delayed the manuscript for the fourth day, Al who urged the manuscript would lose his salary." If you want to turn it around, you owe me ten dollars. The longer Al who wrote the manuscript delays, the more Al who reminds me will owe me more money!"

The more he thought about it, the more beautiful he became, his eyes under the thick glasses were shining, and he clapped his hands vigorously: "In this way, how will the work be completed? The speed of the work progress is entirely up to you, and the boss completely delegates power to the employees! Al, are you happy?"

"...You, you really trust me!"

"After all, you also said that I am the best boss in the world."