Call him the Creator.

"No! What kind of sinner are you? I am not the Creator, I am the creative. I am the mind of what you see," a man replies, looking at his young cohort, fresh out of Brown. But then he lights up a cigarette in its long holder, the smoke going all around him. "We do not create the world, we create what the world does, thinks, eats, drinks, loves, hates, kills, steals, buys and tries. For that we indeed are the Creator," he continues.

"Yes, sir, I know about the actors and actresses. I created one in college, she's now doing weather for the local news station."

"Writing and producing are two different things. Please, call me Warner, and before you ask, I do NOT have siblings locked up in the water tower. If I ever find the gossip writer who planted that garbage I'll sue 'em for every last dime. It makes a very good income supplement between projects," Warner notes.

The young man laughs. "Very funny, Warner!"

"You catch on quickly, the resume did not lie when you said you were a smart man. Brown teaches very well these days. And I thought the hippies overran them and drugged them into sin with those maddening reefers. That was one of my first projects, and well, so what if it was a revival from the 50s! We stopped that madneess cold. We are the new pot, my friend, and well, we all love to smoke it every minute, every day, every second of our lives," Warner declares.

"Yes, Warner, you were the one who brought us Natalie, didn't you?" asks the young man.

"I wrote her first starring role. I let her keep the Oscar, though, she's such a diva. Not the least bit like any of her peers. I dunno who her original producer was, but I have no clue how such a spoiled brat like her stays on the A-List. She can't even hold her lines, always runs off the script, keeps saying God for Jesus and using the formal name for God, and then that flap over the cheeseburger... how she became so popular is beyond anyone around her. She's why I don't write anymore. But I gotta thank ol' Nat, she's why I'm a producer."

Warner leans back in his chair and shows off his collection of awards, pictures of various actors and actresses that adorn every corner of his office, before continuing.

"Although you gotta thank Sammy. He created those 10, you'd think they were Britney themselves," Warner screams in supposed delight.

The young man laughs. "Yeah, that is pretty cool."

"It was an outrage! Spewing that filth... Sammy's nothing but a TV hack. Should go back to the days of sticking people on islands and making fun of how they react. That's what you're here for. We need a new project, one to get the people back to the theatres. A new face, a new name, something that will take the edge off those dykes in New York." Warner's face turns red with anger.

"You want me to produce a new blockbuster?" he inquires.

"Nahh, I want you to get coffee and answer phones!" Warner rolls his eyes. "I got Tara for that. Looker hooker for the teen comedy Stumble Into Bliss. Yes, it was a low budget affair, even for 2012, but it was worth it when that young girl tripped over her heels into the arms of her man, never to let herself be free of the undying love that kept her from hitting the floor. It was pure teen fluff. I created her just for the part, so she fit it to a T. Heck, she still gets fanmail years later with pictures of little girls named Tara. She now works as my receptionist. And if you are kind enough, she may just stumble into your arms as well. In fact..."

Warner buzzes in Tara and in walks in a thirtysomething blonde still dressed in a short denim skirt, pink top and wooden platform sandals that the young man almost laughs at because they are so out of date. She waves at him and goes to shake his hand. On cue, she trips, falls into the young man's arms and gives a heartfelt and helpless sigh and looks at him starstruck before giving him a quick kiss and walking off as Warner leans back chuckling.

"If I didn't like ya, kid, her hands would have hot coffee in them. She's cute, still does some channel 9 softcore for a little self-fulfillment. She's old and all teenage, but she's got a home here. She's useful around the office. Kid, you got a name you prefer?" Warner finally gets his mistake and inquires, not wanting to admit that he can't recall.

"Rupert, I came over here from England in 2012. We never left after the Olympics, you'd never know it now!" Rupert declares.

"No shame. I can see why you want to be a producer, Rupert is a great producer's name," Warner says. "Now on to the task at hand. We need to create something earth-shattering, something that will get these people to notice how great our country is. Someone to keep those TV hacks from gaining too much ground. A new A-list talent to take from the Ten Commanders that Samuel has. A new face for the new generation. Something to hold back Adam and Eve. A new icon..."

"A new idol, someone who will set the new trends, put what is in out, and what is out back in. Something new, something more bold, still moral, still believing, still great but new, different, innovative. I got the script. Dramatic comedy..."

Warner writes down the formula for the script. "Okay, class 4."

"A war..."

Warner: "Style 5, military actor."

"No, not a man, a woman," says Rupert.

Warner grows angry. "We have standards in this town! This isn't Bombay where anything goes as long as they don't look like Limeys!"

"It's not your common war, it's fought here, against the homosexuals," Rupert explains.

Warner is still skeptical. "The last thing we need is another Levittown. Besides, no actress, not even Shawna anymore, would dare touch another woman in a way to be believable."

"It's not among just the bored and the young. It's not to educate, it's to motivate. It's a comedy because the woman doesn't know how to protect her children without her husband, gone to defend this great land in battle against the great communist evil of Venezuela. And yet the deplorable faggots and dykes harbor themselves among law-abiding citizens. She's always resourceful, saving herself to the very end, doing whatever it takes to keep her family safe from the devil."

"Oh, so Class 4, dramatic comedy; Style 14, domestic heroine; Setting 34, the borderlands; Climax 88, destruction and holy cleansing of the maddened souls of the Asylum state," Warner says, writing everything down with a flourish. "Now for your first production job: a new woman, tender on the outside, loyal to her husband, to the point that the lace of her tenderness turns into cold steel when her husband is not present AND her family is threatened."

"Yes, don't want the breakage of marital bonds because she takes her protective side too seriously, hence the comedy."

"What better way to suck down a faggot than with a Coolidge vacuum cleaner?" Warner notes the potential for corporate backing.

"And nothing says love for a family than killing a dyke with your Elizabeth Coppell cookie sheet," Rupert adds as they head out for casting.

A long swath of blonde greets them, all ages and sizes, all in town just for the week on vacation touring the studios. They eye their prospects and see a young woman, in black jeans but with a pink top. She looks somewhat bored, but is still paying attention.

"Hmmm, she looks about right. She isn't your average housewife. She has a shot of Channel 8 blood in her but yet she is still loyal as can be. She's got that streak that will make her turn into a defender if needed yet. She is all you'd want in a wife," Rupert declares.

"Shall I make the offer?" Warner asks.

"I want to see her speak," Rupert replies.

"This isn't second-hand local production equipment. We can edit everything down to the smallest detail in production. Ah, I love technology," Warner boasts of his new equipment.

"All right, then," says Rupert. "But if it is going to be my production, I should be able to make the offer."

"By all means. Break a leg!"says Warner and Rupert goes down and introduces himself to the woman. She accepts his offer with anticipation and is led to the film room. A day passes and we see Rupert and Warner up in the editing booth as the various films flash before the woman's eyes, her attention locked on the screen, her emotions nothing but bliss. Warner explains things to Rupert.

"We need a name for her, something feminine, protective, innocent, yet something that shows her inner desire and determination." Warner lays out the first task.

"Lucy. Stubborn yet she knows what she loves, and that makes her even more stubborn." Rupert says this and Lucy begins reciting her name.

"A star is born," Rupert says with a chuckle. "Now her love, it should be, of course, sweet submission, but not out of just righteous lust, but strength. Yes her hero should be Todd Carter-like. But more reserved, someone who could settle down and desires to care for her, but must fight to provide."

"Loneliness making her more determined to keep what is hers, this rings out to hundreds of thousands of women and will inject a desire to our men to fight harder in the trenches so they can come home and resume their sacred duty," Warner adds.

Three days pass, and Lucy starts to take shape, lace on the outside but eyes of steel that are a door to her dogged inside. Her hair is a darker blonde than when she started, her resolve now repressed behind a domestic smile. Her youth has been exaggerated and now she looks mid 20s, freshly married, but the pride in her smile shows that she has fulfilled at least one half of her wifely duty.

"Just one child. I say make her duty incomplete, interrupted, explaining why her inner anger is that much more resolved," Rupert adds in as he writes the notes.

"Even the cheapest hack will run with that one, Rupert, she could end up a channel 10 bitch and they still could make her sound Emmy-worthy. But we're not letting that happen. I've already enlisted the best writers. You have A-list material there. Keep it up." Warner takes pride in his new producer's creation as Lucy speaks her history, we hear an edge of anger, not the normal moan of sorrow at her family situation.

"She's eating this up. You picked the right mold. None of this is forced. It's coming to her naturally and she is picking it up with ease. I think you cast her exactly as she was. That part of casting is a lost art. That's what makes a good actress an Oscar winner," Warner says.

Three more days and Lucy is out of the screening room. Her eyes have locked in a sniper's stance but the rest of her appears warm and domestic. She speaks kindly but with less of a drawl, and a small hint of New England to her. She now stands perfectly still, a statue ready for its final painting as she stands in wardrobe.

"Not your normal housewife's dress. Show her youth, her struggle, and her knowledge of the evil. That's it! Silver, not white." Rupert comes up with the idea.

"You suggest past sin? Edgy stuff. I don't want her pigeonholed as Channel 8," Warner warns.

"Good thinking. Pure white blouse, but a black miniskirt. Not of the widow's attraction variety, a little longer to show her marital commitment, but short enough to hint at her knowledge of the darkness that lurks and threatens those who are alone," Rupert suggests and Lucy is taken back into the changing room.

"But what indeed is the threat? We cannot have misguided rebellion, it must be done just in the name of her own defense and the defense of her fellow woman. We do not dare suggest female empowerment, that leads to all sorts of sin," Warner cautions.

"The threat is homosexuality. High-heeled boots, not too long, something vaguely associated with the dyke but not obvious enough to repulse the viewer. The designers are gonna LOVE this new trend, 20-something women snatching up the new Lucy look. It'll be the biggest thing since Natalie's leadership skirt," Rupert adds.

Lucy comes out in her new oufit and is returned to the screening room to finish off her role. One more day passes and Lucy meets her writer, a soldier just returned from military communications who worked for Channel 8 before he went to spread the word of freedom to a newly liberated Columbia. The writer smiles as Lucy takes to him.

"She is unique, this baroness of Bridgeport. She is definitely not the low-budget throwaway actress I was expecting from you, Warner," the writer observes.

"Give credit to her producer, the newest member of the Warner board, Rupert Alexander. He will be handling Lucy and all of her upcoming cohorts."

"Thank you! We'll have her debut tomorrow at the Brown Derby?" Rupert asks.

"It's tradition, the first time for someone destined to be A-list though. Wow, what an honor, what a woman." Lucy gives a small smile to the compliment and then they load into the limo and drive off into Beverly Hills for Lucy's new home.

"Nothing short of the highest hills, but something New England, Victorian, show her roots," Warner orders the driver and he finds the perfect lot. Lucy is taken out of the limo and her jaw drops in anticipation of her new home.

"It says Lucyville! It's so cute. I wish my Derek was here to see it, he'd be so proud of me!" Lucy's preprogrammed appreciation comes out and is filmed for the news agencies. As is common with a new star, Lucy gives a tour of the house and the tape is quickly sent off to the various press networks. Lucy then changes into a silver evening gown with matching high heeled shoes and bright earrings as they head off to the Brown Derby where all the writers and producers are waiting for their new star and to find her role.

"So, Rupert, this is Lucy? She is charming indeed, she does have that weird little fusion you were talking about. Channel 1 values, total commitment to Jesus, and yet deep inside, a Channel 8 fire, but one that is controlled and magnified into a ruthless desire to defend her home from the unwanted homosexual. I love the script, so we're going to push up its release to the summer season. We start shooting tomorrow. Shawna will be in it as the villain to up her standing. Shawna will play a high school basketball coach who Lucy played for when she was young. Lucy knows her sin, and now that she has borne a child Shawna tries to seduce her away from her path to have a child to claim for her own. I have the final scene already written out. Shawna has put the entire team into a state of raving lust, but in a final plea tempers their desires and tries to trick Lucy into a false sense of security by assuring her that they will be commiting themselves to serve the community as model citizens like she has, while privately sharing their sin. Lucy kills them all before our nation can be poisoned. The last scene has her husband return- by the way, we were thinking Charlie, it has a strange little ring to it and he's got a military background- anyway, she is in her old uniform, and Charlie doesn't know if she has been poisoned by the Devil's lust or not. But then she strips herself, throwing her uniform into the fire where the cameras pan to see the uniform burning as the last line is uttered...'You defended your country, I defended mine.'" The director gives his vision to Rupert and he agrees with a laugh.

"Well, I guess the heroine should meet her predator then." Rupert leads Lucy over to the sacred table 10, where the Ten Commanding Comics sit with their mindless grins, the same thing every night. Tracy's impatient for the food to come out, Shawna's drinking Oaktree soda straight out of the can while Natalie gives everyone a stern look.

"This is Lucy, she'll be starring with Shawna in the new Warner production Defense Wins. Shawna, you'll be the damned villain again and..."

Natalie interrupts him. "Lucy, you look very defensive, are you alone? Do join us." She offers a seat to the new star as Rupert returns to the writers' table.

"I have never seen that, ever! Natalie doesn't act kind to non-Commanding Comics even if we scream into her microphone, and that was unscripted! You know what this means?" Warner exclaims.

"We've created the 11th commandment. Thou shalt not accept faggots," Rupert says with a smile.

A month passes and Defense Wins is the highest grossing picture of the year, its impact felt beyond that of even Levittown. It breaks records and ends women's basketball everywhere except Pittsburgh, the Hudson Valley and Lucy's supposed home state, Connecticut. This is unknown but now Warner, Rupert, and Lucy are in the Brown Derby again. Shawna is wearing a golden basketball pin as a cruel joke at Lucy as they sit down at table 10 and exchange their prepackaged jokes and gossip while the director smiles at Rupert.

"Got one for this December, HOPEless. It shows how the supposedly reformed sinners are still under the mind control of the devil, it is an unbreakable spell. Once again it's Lucy protecting her home from this threat. I was actually thinking of having her battle the lust that the HOPE releasee thrusts upon her. Show how the Devil's lust CAN be conquered but only before, NEVER after sins of the flesh have been exchanged." The director gives his pitch.

"We would need someone who is a new villain. Perhaps a student, give Lucy the woman's labor of teaching. She can welcome back the student after a "succesful" HOPE camp stay, only to have her school fall prey to her sins," Rupert suggests.

"Always the edgy one, Rupert." The director smiles. "New blood?"

"Yes," Rupert replies.

A week passes and we see a 17-year-old blonde in the screening room as Rupert works above. Lucy stands above him in her black skirt and white blouse as he rounds out the new star's character.

"A born dyke, but one who could step away from the typecast. A redhead for this role, and one who has the qualities of a woman yet, shows her damnation. Now a name for her."

Rupert turns around and stares at Lucy and her perfect form, and as if a perfect chain of mindlessness has been formed, the perfect form of Britney captivating the new starlet, the perfect form of his billion-dollar baby captivating Rupert, he blindly types in the new name of his villainess.

Marcy.

And as Marcy recites her name, he recites Lucy's as his new creations become him. They all bow down to him, for he is their creator. They are the supervixens, and he is the new religion, the one that has separated 2019 from 2018, and whose faith is the only one known by 2020.