"This. is. a. nightmare. Do you realize my parents are going to see these?!"
Jam paced back and forth, threatening to wear trenches into the metal floor; twitchy, visibly agitated... with a telephone receiver grinding into her skull.
"I don't care about what worked for Ciley Myrus, do you even know who we're marketing to?"
"IT WAS A GAG SESSION you moron! You were never supposed to actually use it —especially not by itself!"
"Yeah, Murph, did you notice there's other members of the band? What the hell am I supposed to tell them?"
"'Too ugly to fill seats'?! ... Point. Regardless, your job was to promote the band."
"Are you serious?! The problem is that you're promoting something else entirely! You're promoting my ass in vinyl and-- and... Did you shop my boobs?"
"You wouldn't need to, if I'd agree to WHAT?!"
The call ended rather abruptly at that point as the reciever was sent blasting across the room amid a flurry of sparks of unrepeatable words. Moments later, the thoroughly harassed monkey girl plopped defeatedly into a rather out-of-place-looking sofa next to the other, considerable less stressed primate reclining in it.
"He... is... so irreversibly fired."
"I'unno," said Rock as he reclined, one hand holding the poster for prolonged examination, another digging chips out of a crinkly bag one by one. *Crunch* "It's a little much of a 'scene' look for you, but I think I could get into it..."
As Jam turned only her head to fix a beady look onto the snowy simian, her nostrils flared, and her jaw shifted from side to side, as though churning venom to spit. Eventually, though, she shook her head with a sigh, and redirected her miserable gaze forward once more.
"You're no help at all."