Animal Trainer v. Animator

Here Norman! calls the Animal Trainer. Norman!

The Animal Trainer walks along the edge of the creek, calling for her marmot. After an hour of searching she returns to the oak. The Animator stands under the oak by a bottle of expensive imported beer, a shallow dish.

I think we've met, says the Animator. We both worked on SWINGO!

They shake hands. The Animator is pale, willowy, faintly attractive. She wears a slim black pea coat, a mute orange scarf.

The Animator asks about Norman Mailer. The Animal Trainer explains.

Do you expect to recapture him? asks the Animator.

He's frightened and stubborn, says the Animal Trainer. He's my best pupil. I can only hope he gets thirsty for beer.

It is by far his favorite beverage, says the Animator.

The Animal Trainer uncorks the bottle of beer and pours a healthy portion into the shallow dish. Here Norman! she calls. Beer Norman!

I would have never worked on SWINGO! if I'd known it would have had such a devastating effect on people, the Animator says. This puts me in the minority. I don't care how beautiful or brilliant that film was. I just feel I should say that to you.

It brought more exposure to Norman than I would have wanted, the Animal Trainer says, for all the wrong reasons. Still, she says, it realigned my consciousness in, I think, a beneficial way.

I disagree, though this puts me in the minority, says the Animator.

They spend time choosing their pistols. Eventually, they step out to the field, fifteen paces apart.

In the far distance an almost imperceptible sound, a whistle. The Animal Trainer's eyes widen.

They raise their guns. Their guns go off.