"Too old?" Sigourney Weaver couldn't believe it. "Since when is twenty-nine too old??"
"Come on, Ms. Weaver, we both know you're fif-"
"Now hold it right there, mister big shot producer man," Sigourney stopped the voice on the other end of the line. "I don't need you to remind me how old I am." She walked over with the cell, looking at her reflection in the mirror - smoothing her hair back. "Hell, I know I'm not as young as Brittney Spears, but it's not like I'm dead yet. Just because a person is older doesn't mean they're useless, you know!"
Sigorney listened to the twenty-something-year-old on the other end of the line, and fumed. "Oh really? Well let me tell you something - I still have what it takes to make one damn fine movie. And as for age, if I was into dating children like yourself you'd find out how to treat a real lady - and if you were lucky enough, you'd find out how good a real lady can be when she's naughty. But I'm not into dating children, and I'm not into negotiating with smart mouthed little punks like you. If Fox wants me, tell them to send me an adult next time instead of a snivelling little kid."
SLAM.
Sigorney never let push-button technology get in the way of a satisfying phone-slamming. She picked it back up and pressed the talk button to power the phone down.
"The nerve."
She went over to the bed, and dropped back on it, rubbing her eyes. "Old... I'll show him old... when I'm 150! Sigh..."
She stared grimly up at the cealing. So here was the reality... Youth-worshipping Hollywood was done with her, because she was no longer young enough to be hip. The FBI wanted her, because some lamebrain figured that since she had been in a movie with aliens, it somehow qualified her to fight real ones. "Did I just enter the twilight zone, or has the world always been this crazy?. SIGH..."
Sigourney fumbled for the tv remote on the nightstand. The tube came on. It was the X files.
"Ninety-nine percent of the people in this world are fools, and the rest of us are in great danger of contamination." This from the TV speakers.
"You got that right." This from Weaver. "Maybe it's just as well if I do leave Hollywood. At least working for the FBI I could make a real difference." A little voice in her head decided it was time to speak up, 'Do you REMEMBER what those aliens were like?' "Okay... maybe I am nuts after all. But I'm NOT old!!! I'd rather fight off real aliens to save that spoiled Hollywood golden boy's ass than star in his stupid little movie anyway."
She got up and made herself a drink from the complimentary bar. At least Ridley knew how to treat a woman. She walked over to the mirror, tipping her glass. "To Ripley. May she kick alien butt for years to come."