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Special FX -23- Ultradoll
🕑 Added 2022-09-13 15:46:27 +0000 UTCI wandered around the studio lot for some time before I figured that the music I kept hearing came from the row of old television sound stages. Melrose Film and Sound had leased their stages to the networks and some of the large television producers for decades, all while carving out a niche market as the affordable option for small production companies and independent television producers.
Some of the smaller streaming services had their real homes here.
But for someone like me, or rather for someone like the person I used to be, the real attraction was the history. Some great sitcoms were filmed here; Father Goose, Big Mistake, Calico County, and one year of Sanford and Son. Westerns, cop shows, variety shows, soap operas and game shows, too.
I followed the music to one of the old television stages. It seemed to be the only building in the complex where something was happening. The big doors for getting equipment in and out were open, and I could see people moving around inside.
I got closer and began to make out the music. And this was definitely where it came from; there were musicians with their instruments in the part of the interior that really looked like a stage. Cameras, lights, booms for mikes; they were filming something.
It wasn’t a tune I had heard before, though it sounded a bit familiar. I couldn’t make out the words at first, and when I did, they made no sense.
They sang:
Ultradoll, yeah, yeah, yeah
The Babe of Tomorrow, today
Ultradoll
She has it all
She gives it away
Ultra, ultra, Ultradoll
Yeah
Repeat with a new line here and there. I was mystified.
Ultradoll, yeah, yeah, yeah
Mystifying, satisfying
Ultradoll
She gives her all
She’s on her way
Ultra, ultra, Ultradoll
Yeah
As nonsensical as it sounded, the music pulled me in. Besides, there were people, and surely someone had a phone I could use to call Jack.
When I got close enough, the four people outside near the open doors seemed to spot me. “Hey, Doll,” one of them called, waving a hand at me. I almost looked around to see if anybody were following me. I still wasn’t used to people calling me things like Doll, Babe, or Honey. And I wasn’t even sure if I should have to get used to it.
I mean, this is the 21st century, right? I think it must be; time travel storylines are so overdone.
I was already giggling when the guys came toward me with comments like, “She’s here!” and “Yeah, you play their theme song, and the stars come out of the woodwork.” And “Now we can get something done!” and “Hey! You’re already in costume!”
I looked down at myself, remembering. “It’s uh, it’s glued on.”
That made them laugh, and I giggled in embarrassment.
One called through the open doors, “Hey, Mr. Director Man! Our star is here. Hey, somebody tap Carlos so he turns around!”
A round little guy near the fake ‘stage’ did turn around, peering at me. “Is that you, Miss Blessing?”
“Huh? No,” I squeaked back at him, realizing that my tiny new voice wasn’t loud enough he could hear me without a mike. “I’m Hallelujah Jones. Uh, Hallie, Hallie Jones.” I was shouting, but I’m sure it sounded like mouse-squeaks at his distance.
One of the guys whispered to me. “Your secret identity is Wilma Blessing.”
“It is? I — what?”
“And that’s the director, Carlos Chung.”
Carlos Chung? Did I know that name? There was an Indie producer, last name Chung. Was this him?
He was laughing as he approached, and the guys with me were sort of leading me to him. He stuck out a hand to me, saying, “I guess in costume, you aren’t Miss Blessing.”
I put my hand out, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, then pulled me into a brief one-armed hug. “You smell nice,” he murmured. “Like camellias.”
That was amazing after the day I had.
He tugged on my hand, and I followed him into the soundstage. “We’re filming the nightclub scene tonight,” he confided. “This was the only time we could get a stage and crew.”
“On Saturday night?” I squeaked.
He shrugged, “Making movies is sometimes like shooting craps in the dark. You don’t know if you’re winning or losing, and you’ll never get the mud out of the knees of your pants.”
“Huh!?”
He laughed, “I’m joking. The laundry at the commissary can work wonders.”
“Yeah? Uh—”
“Here’s Mike, our sound man. He’ll wire you up for your song.” Carlos passed me along to a guy with wires and two sets of headphones hanging off him.
‘Hi, Mike,” I said, smiling at the dark-haired man.
“I’m Hassan,” he said. “Carlos always makes that dumb joke.”
“Oh!” I burst into giggles and kept it up long enough that Hassan threatened to clip a microphone to my nose if I didn’t stop.
“How can I get a reading on giggles?” he protested.
“Ok, ok,” I gave in and managed to stifle my mirth.
“There’s not a lot of places on your chest to attach this thing anyway,” he noted.
I looked down. My already skimpy Spacebabe top had a new feature: a wide diamond-shaped opening displaying cleavage galore. I think in the parlance of comic book costumes, it’s called a boob window. “Is that all me?” I gasped.
Hassan snorted.
“Well, the top is glued on,” I tried to explain, “and I’m wondering now if Amanda snuck in some extra… I dunno?”
“You don’t want me to try to find out, do you?” he asked.
“Uh, no, that’s fine. Just clip the mike to the —uh— yeah, right there will do.”
He pulled a set of headphones down over his ears. “Sing something…,” he ordered.
So I sang a bit of “Walk Like an Egyptian” by the Bangles, turning sideways and bending my elbows at right angles. Well, you have to do that for that song.
“Sounds fine,” Hassan said, nodding. “I can tweak it later.”
“I didn’t know this was going to be a singing part,” I said. “Come to think of it….” I trailed off, realizing that this whole setup was… kinda skeevy. “Hassan, tell me, what is going on here…. I don’t even remember auditioning or getting hired for something.”
‘You didn’t. You weren’t,” he said. “This isn’t happening.”
“Oh, c’mon!” I waved my arms around. “I’m supposed to be dreaming all this?”
“See,” he said. “You’re Ultradoll.”
I rolled my eyes. “I figured that out from the theme song.”
“Crappy song,” he commented, and I nodded.
“But this is all a jackboot operation.”
I looked at him sideways. “You mean bootleg?” I suggested.
“Yeah, that,” he said. “See, some comic book characters are not getting their chance in the movies. So, there are internet movie makers who are going to fix this.”
“How?” I blinked several times, but it kept right on not making sense.
“We’re students at UCLA, and we’re going to make movies, internet movies about the forgotten characters of Marvel and DC.”
“Yeah, huh?”
“Like the one we’re working on tonight. Dazzler versus Ultradoll!”
I pointed at my cleavage. “I’m Ultradoll!”
“That’s right!” he agreed. “And you’ve come from the future to kill off all the superheroes who don’t get into movies.”
“Uh, huh? Kind of like —uh— Terminator?”
“Yeah, but Arnie won’t wear the suit.” I giggled at the mental image. “We were going to call your character Eliminator, but… that didn’t test well.”
I snorted another giggle. “Who’s Dazzler?”
“A Marvel character. A nightclub singer who’s in the X-Men. She has light and sound powers. We got a Heather Bock look-alike to play her.”
“How am I supposed to kill her?” I asked, intrigued.
“With Karaoke.”
“Oh, of course….” I rolled my eyes. Karaoke was probably her version of kryptonite.
Carlos was calling me. “Miss Blessing? Ultradoll? We’re ready for your closeup now.”
That caused me to giggle like it would any film student. It’s kind of a line from Sunset Boulevard. “I’d better go see what he wants,” I told Hassan.
And pretty soon, I was in front of a camera with a karaoke machine, displaying some altered lyrics to Robert Palmer’s Addicted to Love.
I sang in my teeny, tiny, but amplified voice:
“The lights are on,
But I’m not home,
My mind is not my own.
My heart sweats, my hands shake,
Another kiss is all I can take….”
That must have been right when the bus stopped and I woke up.
Comments
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
I tried to add it, not sure it worked.
Isaac Dansicker
Also, missing the special FX tag
Erin Halfelven at BigCloset
She's a starlet. What does she need a brain for? :)
Isaac Dansicker
NGL, best chapter proves giggles are eating the brain.
