Greta the Climate Goblin - Meeting with Mom
MARGARET
Sunlight streamed through the window of the Whittaker kitchen. Greta walked in, brushing her hair and found her mother seated at the table, sipping her coffee as she was finishing getting ready to go to her job at the Fairhaven Baptist Church.
"You were out very late, Gretchen."
"It's called a night show, Mom."
"Oh, I know. Mrs. Delaney called to ask me why you started reporting Halloween weather so early in the year."
Greta felt her face flush.
"You don't have to dress like... that to be talented."
"It's just a costume, Mom."
"It doesn't look like one to me. Girls your age shouldn't be gallivanting about like that. You should be in college or maybe settling down with a proper young man."
Margaret paused, "You know, Bob Mercer's daughter got an internship at a real television station in the city. Maybe you should talk to her when she comes home this summer."
Margaret rose from her seat, moving efficiently, placing papers in her bag. "I'll be at the church. Don't embarrass yourself, or me, at the station."
As her mother left the kitchen, Greta called after her, "I'll try."
Margaret stopped, one hand on the doorknob. "Trying isn't enough."
Greta arrived at the station with time to spare. She took a quick lap through the building and found Elliot fixing a sink in the breakroom.
"Hey, um, do you know how to make a tesla coil?"
Elliot slid out from under the sink.
"For your show?"
"Yeah, I'm going to air Dr. Calamari next week and I want to build a fake lab."
A grin. "I'm sure we can figure it out. Maybe bring Max in on it. He's good with electronics."
"I don't really know him. His show is in the morning."
"You didn't go to school with him?"
"He was a couple of years behind me. We didn't cross paths much."
"He's a nice kid. Talk to him after the meeting."
"I will. Thanks."
A few minutes later, Greta entered the conference room. Everyone else had already arrived. Celestine was laying tarot cards out on the table and glanced up at Greta, offering a tired smile. Greta noticed that the card showing was the Two of Wands but had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Dusty was talking to Professor Avery. Greta only caught part of what the ex-hippie was saying, "Yeah, man. I knew Janis. Roadied for her back in the 60's. Notorious lighter thief..."
Linda, a woman in her 30s who hosted a gardening show was there, talking with Bob Mercer. By day, he had some kind of insurance job. On the weekend, he did a show for the Fairhaven Historical Society. Lastly, there was Maria, who used her show to promote her Beach Boys cover band, the "Sand Dollars".
Chet from "Cooking with Chef Chet" stood off to one side, an apron worn over a plain white tee, pulling grocery store pastires from a wax-paper box. He was talking to Max, a senior from Fairhaven High. Max, was wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt with suspenders and glasses that he kept slipping down his nose. "... wish that Harold had let me bake something. Would've been better than this mass-produced..."
Harold walked in, "You are probably right, Chet. But, we got those for free. Everyone, take your seats." He began the meeting without preamble, "Okay, team, listen up. Ratings are flat. The town council wants more family-friendly programming, but we have to keep our late-night weirdness slot alive. Ideas?”
Even though no heads turned, Greta felt like all eyes were on her after last night's... rocky performance.
Dusty muttered from the back, "Weirdness is the natural state of the world, man. We might as well lean into it."
Harold pinched the bridge of his nose, "Thanks, Dusty. That was ... inspirational."
Linda spoke up, “I was thinking a gardening special on ‘how to grow sunflowers indoors.’ Maybe… organic fertilizer demos?”
“Uh… what if we tie in local history? You know, legends about cursed crops in Fairhaven?" Bob added.
Harold perked up slightly at that, "Are there any?"
Bob fiddled with his tie and looked down at the table, "Well...no."
"Moving on, then. Maria? Do you have anything?" Harold asked.
Maria groaned, “Can we just do a music countdown? MTV’s hot right now! I got some demos!”
Max leaned in, “Wait — what if we add a tech segment? Introduce computers to the town! Everyone’s talking about Commodore 64s — imagine if kids could code?”
Professor Avery was quick to add, “Computers are fine, Max, but let’s not forget electromagnetic anomalies. Last week, a signal interfered with the late-night broadcast.”
Madame Celestine continued to shuffle her tarot cards, "Lionel, signals are like spirits. They move where they want. But sometimes… they send messages. You just need to be open to seeing them.”
Professor Avery rolled his eyes, "Celestine, signals don't want anything. They're just signals."
Chet sighed, “Great. So we fry circuits and summon spirits. Cool. Can someone at least make me a sandwich?”
With a chuckle, Dusty added, “Bread is a stabilizing agent of the universe, my friend. Without it… chaos reigns.”
Greta laughed, “Exactly why we keep you around, Dusty.”
Harold attempted to steer the meeting back on track, “Right. Focus. Late-night weirdness is our bread and butter — figuratively speaking. Greta, what’s the plan for your movie slot this week?”
Greta sat up, “‘Attack of the 50-Foot Goblin’ — environmental terror meets B-grade horror. I’ve got a short segment on eco-conscious monster prevention.”
Harold stood there for a second and looked at Greta, “…Eco-conscious? What does that even mean?"
Greta laughed, “You know, like, recycle the alien goo before it eats the town. It'll be educational.”
Harold sighed. “Fair enough. Max, just… don’t fry the mainframe again. And Chet, maybe keep your experimental cheese sauce out of the control room.”
Chet saluted, “No promises, captain.”
As the meeting wound down, Madame Celestine flipped a card casually.
The Tower.
She looked at it for a few moments, “Huh. Interesting… sudden upheaval. just bad timing for the council visit.”
Dusty placed a hand on her shoulder, "Or the corn. The corn knows something.”
Greta perked up: "I’m writing that down. It’s going in my intro monologue.”
Professor Avery muttered, flipping through his notes: “Neither of you is making any sense.”
Max raised his hand: “Wait! What if the cornfield is connected to the early computer signals?”
Greta slapped her forehead, “Yes! That’ll be how it starts.”
Harold shook his head, "Why do I even pay you people? Go, get to work."
Greta leapt from her seat, "Max! Hang on a second. I need you to tell me how to build a tesla coil! I was making notes when I got home last night. She flipped open her notebook to look at at her design for an ink-squirting octopus prop. She saw two words written at the bottom of the page.
"HINGE"
"THRESHOLD "
In her own handwriting.
She stared at the page.
Margaret rose from her seat, moving efficiently, placing papers in her bag. "I'll be at the church. Don't embarrass yourself, or me, at the station."
As her mother left the kitchen, Greta called after her, "I'll try."
Margaret stopped, one hand on the doorknob. "Trying isn't enough."
STAFF MEETING
Greta arrived at the station with time to spare. She took a quick lap through the building and found Elliot fixing a sink in the breakroom.
"Hey, um, do you know how to make a tesla coil?"
Elliot slid out from under the sink.
"For your show?"
"Yeah, I'm going to air Dr. Calamari next week and I want to build a fake lab."
A grin. "I'm sure we can figure it out. Maybe bring Max in on it. He's good with electronics."
"I don't really know him. His show is in the morning."
"You didn't go to school with him?"
"He was a couple of years behind me. We didn't cross paths much."
"He's a nice kid. Talk to him after the meeting."
"I will. Thanks."
A few minutes later, Greta entered the conference room. Everyone else had already arrived. Celestine was laying tarot cards out on the table and glanced up at Greta, offering a tired smile. Greta noticed that the card showing was the Two of Wands but had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Dusty was talking to Professor Avery. Greta only caught part of what the ex-hippie was saying, "Yeah, man. I knew Janis. Roadied for her back in the 60's. Notorious lighter thief..."
Linda, a woman in her 30s who hosted a gardening show was there, talking with Bob Mercer. By day, he had some kind of insurance job. On the weekend, he did a show for the Fairhaven Historical Society. Lastly, there was Maria, who used her show to promote her Beach Boys cover band, the "Sand Dollars".
Chet from "Cooking with Chef Chet" stood off to one side, an apron worn over a plain white tee, pulling grocery store pastires from a wax-paper box. He was talking to Max, a senior from Fairhaven High. Max, was wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt with suspenders and glasses that he kept slipping down his nose. "... wish that Harold had let me bake something. Would've been better than this mass-produced..."
Harold walked in, "You are probably right, Chet. But, we got those for free. Everyone, take your seats." He began the meeting without preamble, "Okay, team, listen up. Ratings are flat. The town council wants more family-friendly programming, but we have to keep our late-night weirdness slot alive. Ideas?”
Even though no heads turned, Greta felt like all eyes were on her after last night's... rocky performance.
Dusty muttered from the back, "Weirdness is the natural state of the world, man. We might as well lean into it."
Harold pinched the bridge of his nose, "Thanks, Dusty. That was ... inspirational."
Linda spoke up, “I was thinking a gardening special on ‘how to grow sunflowers indoors.’ Maybe… organic fertilizer demos?”
“Uh… what if we tie in local history? You know, legends about cursed crops in Fairhaven?" Bob added.
Harold perked up slightly at that, "Are there any?"
Bob fiddled with his tie and looked down at the table, "Well...no."
"Moving on, then. Maria? Do you have anything?" Harold asked.
Maria groaned, “Can we just do a music countdown? MTV’s hot right now! I got some demos!”
Max leaned in, “Wait — what if we add a tech segment? Introduce computers to the town! Everyone’s talking about Commodore 64s — imagine if kids could code?”
Professor Avery was quick to add, “Computers are fine, Max, but let’s not forget electromagnetic anomalies. Last week, a signal interfered with the late-night broadcast.”
Madame Celestine continued to shuffle her tarot cards, "Lionel, signals are like spirits. They move where they want. But sometimes… they send messages. You just need to be open to seeing them.”
Professor Avery rolled his eyes, "Celestine, signals don't want anything. They're just signals."
Chet sighed, “Great. So we fry circuits and summon spirits. Cool. Can someone at least make me a sandwich?”
With a chuckle, Dusty added, “Bread is a stabilizing agent of the universe, my friend. Without it… chaos reigns.”
Greta laughed, “Exactly why we keep you around, Dusty.”
Harold attempted to steer the meeting back on track, “Right. Focus. Late-night weirdness is our bread and butter — figuratively speaking. Greta, what’s the plan for your movie slot this week?”
Greta sat up, “‘Attack of the 50-Foot Goblin’ — environmental terror meets B-grade horror. I’ve got a short segment on eco-conscious monster prevention.”
Harold stood there for a second and looked at Greta, “…Eco-conscious? What does that even mean?"
Greta laughed, “You know, like, recycle the alien goo before it eats the town. It'll be educational.”
Harold sighed. “Fair enough. Max, just… don’t fry the mainframe again. And Chet, maybe keep your experimental cheese sauce out of the control room.”
Chet saluted, “No promises, captain.”
As the meeting wound down, Madame Celestine flipped a card casually.
The Tower.
She looked at it for a few moments, “Huh. Interesting… sudden upheaval. just bad timing for the council visit.”
Dusty placed a hand on her shoulder, "Or the corn. The corn knows something.”
Greta perked up: "I’m writing that down. It’s going in my intro monologue.”
Professor Avery muttered, flipping through his notes: “Neither of you is making any sense.”
Max raised his hand: “Wait! What if the cornfield is connected to the early computer signals?”
Greta slapped her forehead, “Yes! That’ll be how it starts.”
Harold shook his head, "Why do I even pay you people? Go, get to work."
Greta leapt from her seat, "Max! Hang on a second. I need you to tell me how to build a tesla coil! I was making notes when I got home last night. She flipped open her notebook to look at at her design for an ink-squirting octopus prop. She saw two words written at the bottom of the page.
"HINGE"
"THRESHOLD "
In her own handwriting.
She stared at the page.
“Okay. That’s weird. When did I do that?"
Later That Night
The Camera rolls on Greta's second episode. After having trouble rigging the puppet for her Dr. Calamari idea, she opts for a rubber hose covered in bits of shaggy carpet remnants as a stand-in for the snout of an anteater. A hastily constructed lumpy pyramid made of chicken wire covered in paper-mache, spray-painted brown, stands on the set in Studio D.
Elliot looks at the bizarre prop. "What is this supposed to be, again?"
Greta smiles, "A termite mound. I'm running 'Iron Snout' tonight. It's a kaiju film about an anteater told from the point of view of a termite colony."
"I don't think I've heard of this one before," he frowns, looking skeptically at the model. "I'm guessing that furry nose is the anteater."
"Exactly!" When we go the the first break, I crack the mound open and insert our anteater snout and you move the camera inside to see the attack. Look! I even made a fake tongue!" Greta feeds a pink balloon into the hose. "I puff in this and make it inflate a little so it looks like it's trying to find termites!"
".... if you say so," is about all that Elliot can manage.
For Greta, time passes excruciatingly slowly and then entirely too fast as she tries to finish preparing her script.
Then, cameras roll.
Greta strolls onto the stage and tries to strike a sultry pose, leaning against her prop termite mound. It shifts on her base and she has to catch herself before she falls. She clears her throat, "Good evening, darlings… Tonight we explore what happens when something… long… and hungry… comes sniffing around your foundation.”
She pauses to give her imaginary listeners time to react. Elliot covers his face with one hand and keeps the camera fixed on her.
"Sometimes, it's not the size of the monster...but how deeply it...um, probes."
Greta smiles and nods, a silent "nailed it" running through her mind.
The film progresses in gloriously awful b-grade insanity for about fifteen minutes before the focus comes back onto Greta. She's perched on a stool and tilts her head, trying for her best Elvira-esque pose.
"Ladies… if something with a snout that powerful shows interest in your home… perhaps reconsider your foundation.”
She turns, accidentally knocking over a jar of plastic ants. They spill everywhere. She stares at them for a second before she manages to say, "Well, they do scatter easily."
The program cuts back to the movie. The termite ruling council argues about abandoning the colony and finally seize upon a desperate plan, blowing up the mound in an attempt to take out their attacker. As the plan is finalized, the mound rips open and an obviously fake anteater tongue begins wiggling around inside a termite cathedral.
The show cuts back to Greta, reading from her script, "When a creature with... that kind of reach --" She is interrupted by her snout prop unexpectedly swings down from the termite hill and bonks her on the shoulder.
Elliot snickers, just off camera. It is clearly audible to the viewers at home.
Greta giggles slightly, struggling to not break character and continues, "-- makes an entrance, you must… prepare for impact.”
One termite, a civil engineer, elects to stay behind the carry out the detonations. The ensuing explosion obliterates what it left of the colony, denying the monster the food source it needs, a terrible and tragic sacrifice.
As the credits roll, Greta makes her last appearance. She lowers her voice, "Sometimes, darlings… survival means knowing when to collapse… before something else does it for you.”
The line, completely improvised, carries a tone of sincerity. For a moment she stops performing and just reacts to the story.
Elliot looks at the bizarre prop. "What is this supposed to be, again?"
Greta smiles, "A termite mound. I'm running 'Iron Snout' tonight. It's a kaiju film about an anteater told from the point of view of a termite colony."
"I don't think I've heard of this one before," he frowns, looking skeptically at the model. "I'm guessing that furry nose is the anteater."
"Exactly!" When we go the the first break, I crack the mound open and insert our anteater snout and you move the camera inside to see the attack. Look! I even made a fake tongue!" Greta feeds a pink balloon into the hose. "I puff in this and make it inflate a little so it looks like it's trying to find termites!"
".... if you say so," is about all that Elliot can manage.
For Greta, time passes excruciatingly slowly and then entirely too fast as she tries to finish preparing her script.
Then, cameras roll.
Greta strolls onto the stage and tries to strike a sultry pose, leaning against her prop termite mound. It shifts on her base and she has to catch herself before she falls. She clears her throat, "Good evening, darlings… Tonight we explore what happens when something… long… and hungry… comes sniffing around your foundation.”
She pauses to give her imaginary listeners time to react. Elliot covers his face with one hand and keeps the camera fixed on her.
"Sometimes, it's not the size of the monster...but how deeply it...um, probes."
Greta smiles and nods, a silent "nailed it" running through her mind.
The film progresses in gloriously awful b-grade insanity for about fifteen minutes before the focus comes back onto Greta. She's perched on a stool and tilts her head, trying for her best Elvira-esque pose.
"Ladies… if something with a snout that powerful shows interest in your home… perhaps reconsider your foundation.”
She turns, accidentally knocking over a jar of plastic ants. They spill everywhere. She stares at them for a second before she manages to say, "Well, they do scatter easily."
The program cuts back to the movie. The termite ruling council argues about abandoning the colony and finally seize upon a desperate plan, blowing up the mound in an attempt to take out their attacker. As the plan is finalized, the mound rips open and an obviously fake anteater tongue begins wiggling around inside a termite cathedral.
The show cuts back to Greta, reading from her script, "When a creature with... that kind of reach --" She is interrupted by her snout prop unexpectedly swings down from the termite hill and bonks her on the shoulder.
Elliot snickers, just off camera. It is clearly audible to the viewers at home.
Greta giggles slightly, struggling to not break character and continues, "-- makes an entrance, you must… prepare for impact.”
One termite, a civil engineer, elects to stay behind the carry out the detonations. The ensuing explosion obliterates what it left of the colony, denying the monster the food source it needs, a terrible and tragic sacrifice.
As the credits roll, Greta makes her last appearance. She lowers her voice, "Sometimes, darlings… survival means knowing when to collapse… before something else does it for you.”
The line, completely improvised, carries a tone of sincerity. For a moment she stops performing and just reacts to the story.
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