I published this story once before, but I got rid of it because hardly anyone was reading it, and it got no reviews. I'm putting it back on fan fiction for me. No one else. I'm an Amanda fan, and I don't care if that's popular or not.
The Amanda Show
Pills for Pain
Amanda sat at the makeup desk in her dressing room. The teenager gently rolled a lipstick dispenser on her soft lips, coloring them light pink.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," Amanda called.
The producer, Dan Schneider opened the door, and slowly walked inside. "Amanda," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
"What's going on?" asked Amanda, expecting a death or something grave.
"There's been some... budget problems," Dan answered, trying to be sympathetic. "If we don't make some cuts, we're gonna have to cancel the show."
"Oh my gosh," Amanda exclaimed, her voice in a shocked whisper. "We can't cancel the Amanda Show. I've got no where else to go. I haven't been able to find another acting job."
"Don't worry, Amanda," comforted Dan. "We'll just reuse old props, cut down on refreshments, hire less actors. You won't even notice the difference."
"Alright," replied Amanda, growing relieved. "Oh, did the ratings come in?"
"Uh, yeah," answered Dan, pulling a piece of paper out of his jean pocket. "Now don't be alarmed, but we're a little behind on viewers."
Amanda took the paper, and read the viewer information. "Oh no," she whispered. "I-I don't get it. I thought we were doing better than ever."
"I don't know," replied Mr. Schneider. "There are some new shows competing with us. I'm sure we'll catch up." Dan patted Amanda on the shoulder. "It'll be okay." The producer then walked out, and closed the door.
Amanda sunk down into her chair, her heart about to collapse out of shock and depression.
"Amanda," called Nancy Sullivan, knocking on the door.
"Come in," Amanda called back, wiping the tears from her eyes and her glittered cheeks.
Nancy walked into the dressing room. "You hear about the budget deal?" she asked.
"Yeah," replied Amanda, sadly. "You don't think they'll cancel the show do you?"
"I don't know," Nancy answered. "To be honest, I'm more concerned about what my doctor told me."
"Why? What's wrong?" asked Amanda, her voice showing her concern.
"He said I have chemical depression," Nancy began. "You know how I've been so down and tired lately."
"Are you gonna be okay?" asked Amanda.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," assured Nancy. "He gave me these pills." Nancy pulled out a clear orange prescription bottle. "I took two this morning, and I'm already feeling better."
"I wish they'd tell me I was depressed," Amanda said, her voice beginning to tremble. "Then I could just take some pills, and... it'd all be better.
'Oh, Nancy, I'm sorry," Amanda quickly corrected herself. "Depression's nothing to wish for."
"It's fine," replied Nancy, showing no signs of offense. "You must be climbing the walls with all this garbage. Here." Nancy handed Amanda the bottle.
"What?" asked Amanda, shocked by what she was witnessing.
"I picked up two bottles by mistake," explained Nancy. "Take it. It'll make you feel better."
"Whatter you nuts?" Amanda cried. "Do you know how dangerous that is? Those could kill me!"
"Amanda, relax," Nancy comforted, putting her arms around Amanda's shoulders, gently. "Trust me...It'll be okay. You're my friend, and I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you."
Amanda looked at the bottle, her heart still telling her no. "They'll really make me feel better?" she asked, beginning to consider Nancy's offer.
"I promise," Nancy answered, her voice as comforting as a mother's.
"Okay," Amanda accepted, taking the orange bottle, and unscrewing the lid.
Nancy smiled, patted Amanda on the shoulder, and walked away.
Amanda poured one of the small, blue capsules into her hand, pressed it into her mouth, and swallowed it with a bottle of water. Feeling nothing, Amanda sighed, poured out one more pill, and swallowed it with another drink of water. "Nothing," she said, sorrowfully.
Ten minutes later, The Amanda Show had begun. Amanda ran onto stage, let out a peppy scream, and jumped in the air.
The audience roared with applause and clapping.
"Hi, I'm Amanda, and I don't cause global warming!" the teen happily yelled.
The audience cheered once more.
"Alright, today,...we're getting wild!" Amanda yelled, her voice bursting with optimism. "Say hello to Drake Parker and the Moon Lighters! Wooh!" Amanda peppily clapped her hands, and jumped up and down as Drake and his band ran onto the stage.
The crowds screamed, and clapped for the band.
"You guys ready to rock?" Drake yelled. "Hit it!"
The Moon Lighters began to hit their drums, and gracefully strum their electric guitars.
After Drake and his band finished their set, the crew set up the props for Mr. Oldman. Throughout the sketch, Amanda gave her lines very theatrically, add-libbed, and, at one point, began giggling uncontrollably. The audience ate it up like preschoolers in a candy store, but the cast members were confused.
The Mr. Oldman sketch was even forced to end early, something that never happened because of Amanda before.
The last sketch of the day was A Hillbilly Moment. Drake and Amanda came out dressed and made up as stereotypical red-necks, laughing like a couple of oafs.
"Knowck, knowck," Amanda called between laughs, imitating a hillbilly accent.
"Whose thire?" asked Drake, using the same accent, and then continuing his foolish laughter.
"Big fi-yish," answered Amanda, innocently, and happily.
"Big fi-yish who?" asked Drake, pretending not to expect the punch line.
"Om gonna hit yuh in the hide with a big fish," replied Amanda.
Drake laughed, then said, "What?"
Amanda then smacked Drake in the face with a large, rubber bass. The teenage boy ran back into the wooden ranch house prop, pretending to be pushed back by the prop.
Drake laughed, walked back into his place, and said, "That's a good one,"
The two teens laughed. However, Amanda laughed a little longer than usual.
The curtain then closed around the two as the audience clapped and whistled.
The crew quickly set up the main set, and the actors changed into their usual apparel.
Amanda ran onto the stage, met by the cheering and praise of the crowds. "Did you like the show tonight?" Amanda called to the audience.
"Yeah!" the audience shouted back. Among the screaming fans, a few people whispered, "Doesn't she normally say, 'did everybody have fun tonight' or something?"
"That's great, cuz from now on, you're gonna see a new Amanda Show!" the teen yelled, her voice happy. "More energy! More pep! And more... more, uh, well, you know!"
More audience members began to talk amongst themselves. Something was wrong.
"You like the Dancing Lobsters?" Amanda cried out. "Well, we're gonna have... uh, dancing, uh... yeah, dancing! Wooh hoo!" Amanda began jumping up and down like a giddy school girl, and energetically clapping her hands together.
The audience grew confused and almost disgusted. Parents began to question if Amanda was the kind of role model their kids needed.
"And you know what else?" Amanda yelled, ending her cheer. "Um,... I... I don't know what else." The pep faded from Amanda's voice. "Um, uh..." The teenager looked at her audience, who was confused and concerned for her. Amanda then looked at her worried friends and co-workers. "You know... Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get into acting. ...Maybe I should've found another career. And maybe these pills weren't such a good idea." Amanda took the orange bottle out of her pant pocket, and dropped it on the stage.
The cast and crew members grew startled.
"I didn't mean any harm by it," Amanda pleaded to anyone in general. "I didn't mean any harm by it." The teen's eyes began to blur with tears. Amanda fell to her knees, and sadly, shakily breathed in and out, the tears beginning to fall on the stage. "I didn't mean any harm. I didn't mean any harm."
Amanda was taken to a local hospital, and put in a rehabilitation clinic. In her absence, a twelve-year-old girl named Carly Shay was aked to fill in for her. To Be Continued...