Ever since Otis the Cat’s 8,000 page hits, she’s been impossible to deal with.
She simply will not shut up about acting, acting, acting. I pushed for industrial engineering, she wants The Silver Screen. <sigh>
I never wanted to be one of those Hollywood moms. The problem was clearly above my pay grade. So I called my good friend “Violet,” a highly sought-after producer who’s been to L.A. a bunch of times and knows all about this kind of thing. She finally remembered who I was after I reminded her about the night with the hottub and the organ grinder monkeys.
Violet: Um, yeah. That was really something.
Violet: Do you…happen to have photos? Of that night?
Me: Sure! You want me to send them? What’s your—
Violet: I’ll be right over.
In return for deleting some items from my hard drive, Violet was kind enough to sit down with Otis and me to share her thoughts about the path to superstardom. I admitted that I wasn’t sure how to begin.
Me: I was thinking maybe pageants would be a good start?
Violet: Pageants are good. What you need to do is rent Otis an RV, maybe stencil her name on the side, and show up at the pageant in that. That’ll get a buzz going.
Me: A “buzz”?
Violet: Another great way to create “buzz” is you wanna make a reservation at the “it” restaurant. Get on the phone and lower your voice, tell them, “OK, I just want to let you know I’m gonna be bringing Otis in. We’ll need a quiet table, maybe a private room.” Then bring her in with a big entourage, order a bunch of Cristal, and seed the room with some people who’ll start the whispering campaign. “Oh my god, is that Otis?” That sort of thing.
Me: This is gonna cost some money.
Violet: Sure it will.
Me: What about modeling?
Violet: Modeling is good. (looks Otis over critically) She’s got a little extra weight, though. Not much, just—you know. Might wanna do some liposuction in a couple places, the bad places, then pump it back into the good places.
Me: What, “Hmmmmm”?
Violet: I’m just noticing that little crook in her tail.
Me: Is that a problem?
Violet: It’s just not the look in L.A. these days. It’s not how we do things. I think you could get that fixed for maybe four, five thousand bucks. It’ll be totally worth it in the long run. You’ll be glad you did it.
Me: (nodding) It’s an investment.
Violet: Right, an investment. In Otis’s future.
Me: What about headshots, that kind of thing?
Violet: Obviously you’re gonna need headshots. You need to invest in a big-name photographer, somebody who’s gonna put her on the map, if you will. Ideally, and let’s just be honest here, somebody with a busy casting couch—
Violet: I’ve got just the guy. (She smiles, looks at her husband, the Big Name Photographer. And then he smiles.)
Me: Are you saying—
Violet: Remember, scandal is good…Wait, she’s not underage or anything? That’s the last thing we…
Me: God no, she’s like 11—
Violet: Oooo. OK. Let’s keep that under wraps. We’ll fudge on the age a little bit.
Me: And by “fudge,” you mean—
Big Name Photographer: Shave her! (He sort of chimes in, out of nowhere.)
Me: Shave her?!
BNP: Fur pie doesn’t sell!
Violet: And clearly, she’s gonna need a sex tape.
Violet: It worked for me.
Related post: The story of Otis going viral, and What It All Means
Related post: Where it all began— All Cats Are Sociopaths