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David felt his first vodcast was going well. His first segment had been with Cassidy as she shared how women’s rowing was going. His next guest was Oliver. Everyone else on the football team had been too chicken to show up, so David had resorted to bribing the Aussie.
Oliver hadn’t made it easy. He’d demanded David provide an Australian lager named Victoria Bitter, or VB. When he’d filmed down under, the locals working on the film called it ‘Vomit Bomb.’ David had been smart enough to avoid it, but his buddies, Tim and Wolf, had tried it, and they’d proved that the nickname was accurate.
David had finally found VB online in Ontario. He paid an astonishing amount to have a six-pack overnighted. Oliver, the knob—which was Aussie for ‘dick’ or ‘idiot,’ as everyone was calling him—had made David show him the beer before going on. David had hidden it under a buffet table so the other degenerates who had ‘volunteered’ to do his show wouldn’t drink it.
That was a whole different issue in David’s mind. He’d gone out and obtained advertisers to help pay for professional camera operators and the like.
Getting the commercials had only taken him a couple phone calls. First, the studios were more than willing to have ads for the movies he was in shown on his vodcast. Then his grandmother had told Ron Pennington about it, and Ron was incensed that David hadn’t called him for ad time. David sold all but one of the remaining commercial slots to Pennington Trucking.
The final slot he’d given to Doreen, his favorite coffee-shop owner, as a thank-you for all the free food and tea she’d given him.
One of the other groups had decided to do commercials for their project. David talked them into shooting one for Doreen, and it turned out pretty well.
Back to the ‘volunteers’ and why David had a problem. Some idiot in the USC bureaucracy had written into the contracts that the ads would pay for people’s time that they put in to create his project. That is, unless those funds weren’t used, in which case the extra money would go into the general fund of the USC School of Cinematic Arts budget.
However, it turned out that getting skilled people to volunteer their time wasn’t all that hard when they found out that they would be working with David A. Dawson. Professor Blum had assured David that it was sure to be added to their résumés when they applied for jobs.
David had meant what he said about you got what you paid for. He didn’t mind that TAs and other staff got experience. What he cared about was that if they did a good job, they should be compensated.
Since they were working for free, the professor suggested that David might want to have food available, hence the buffet. David wasn’t about to spend his own money, so he used USC’s food services. They were more than happy to cater, so David had it billed to the department. When Professor Blum saw what he’d done, he just smiled and signed for the food.
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The vodcast was divided into thirds, with Cassidy doing the first segment and Oliver slotted in the last two. Oliver’s first segment focused on his journey to the US to play American football. They’d shown a clip of him playing in the Rugby League and then another of his tryout with USC to be a punter.
Then they’d taken a break to prepare for the last segment. David learned a valuable lesson: don’t have the food delivered until you are done shooting. When offered a choice between volunteering or stuffing their faces, college students would pick the latter option every time.
That meant there was a forty-five-minute delay. When they were ready to go again, Oliver was in the bathroom. It seemed he’d polished off three of his beers while they’d taken their ‘break.’
“Careful. Careful,” David warned as Oliver plopped down on the couch and put his arm around Cassidy.
David looked at her as he mentally begged her not to hurt the punter before the segment even began.
“We look a bonza pair, don’t you think?” Oliver asked.
David could smell the beer on his breath from where he was seated.
“You look very sexy together. If you want, you can kiss her,” David offered.
David wasn’t quite sure where that came from, but the look on Cassidy’s and Oliver’s faces was worth it.
“No way. What are you saying?” she complained.
She was being a good sport, so David didn’t feel bad for his antics of egging Oliver on. But he knew this was his first vodcast, and he might want to tone it down a bit.
“That was aggressive. You probably shouldn’t use tongue on her while we’re recording,” David said.
“Come on. Just snog me a little,” Oliver said to Cassidy.
Cassidy giggled. So David relaxed, recognizing she might not kill them both. He tried to get the interview back on track.
“From reading your bio, I was surprised to see that you’re a champion kangaroo racer. Is that really a thing?”
“’Roo racing can be a real dog’s breakfast if the mongrels aren’t trained up to scratch. This one time while ’roo racing, I smashed my uh … can you say ‘knob’ over here?” Oliver asked as he pointed at his crotch.
“I guess,” David hedged.
He’d have to ask after they were done filming. He was sure they could bleep it out if need be.
“It’s pretty big, so my old fella was stretched out to my hip bone …” Oliver paused to give Cassidy a wink. She bent over in her seat and covered her face, trying not to laugh. “… I fell off the ’roo onto my stomach and hit my dong. When I landed, I screamed, ‘Struth! Me knob’s on fire!’”
The look of pain on his face sold the story. Cassidy about fell off the couch as David tried to keep it together.
“My mates were dicks. They called me ‘knob on fire’ for over a year.”
Cassidy was having trouble breathing. At that point, Oliver got a serious look on his face.
“Make her kiss me.”
She couldn’t stop giggling.
“No tongue; I swear you can trust me. I’m a proper upright bloke,” Oliver said with a devilish grin.
David had no doubt that this Aussie could talk most girls out of their panties, if a blushing Cassidy was any indication. He would bet his imaginary beach house that she would have hurt almost anyone else who said that to her.
“I don’t know. David told me some stories about you,” she said.
“Just make out with me. You’ll like my Aussie kissing.”
David could see this segment was golden, so he decided to jerk Oliver’s chain.
“Do you have a tramp stamp?”
“No. Not likely. But I do have the monikers of a few people on my bum that I lost bets to,” Oliver said, and then he turned to Cassidy. “You probably have one.”
“No! Hold up!” she complained.
“Want to see the monikers on my arse?” Oliver asked, and when both David and Cassidy gave him looks, he added, “No?”
“No. No, no,” David said before the idiot showed his butt on camera.
“Why not? Live a little.”
“Well, on that note, I think this might be the end of our show,” David said, and then he had a thought. “I think you’ve been kind of mean to Cassidy. You should let her drop you on your knob like the kangaroo did.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply you were a tramp,” Oliver said to her.
“Don’t you think she should be able to get a little payback here?” David pressed.
Cassidy had a big smile on her face and nodded.
“Yeah, I do,” she said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a sheila has done that. I’m up for it,” Oliver said, shocking the two of them.
David cringed when Oliver stood up and spread his legs. Cassidy launched herself off the couch and split his twins.
“Me knackers!”
David chuckled as he realized that Oliver now had a new nickname. David let him lie there, twisting in pain, for a beat longer.
“And cut!”
Professor Blum and Colleen rushed out from behind the camera.
“That was fantastic,” Professor Blum announced.