Seriously Gross and Morally Bankrupt
By Bradley Hall
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About this ebook
In Seriously Gross and Morally Bankrupt, Frank Archer is an ordinary man whose life takes an unexpected turn due to a fleeting moment of fame in the 1960s. Frank's brief appearance in two television shows—a sci-fi series and a spy drama—spans only 47 seconds, yet it sparks an unexpected legacy decades later.
Now in his 80s, Frank leads a quiet life in Los Angeles, barely thinking of his forgotten brush with Hollywood. But when a stranger recognizes him on the street, Frank stumbles upon a bizarre fan site dedicated to his tiny television roles. As Frank dives deeper into this unsettling online world, he finds both obsessive fans and cruel detractors—a shitposting group that mocks his brief career and ridicules his old age.
The stress of this bizarre internet fame overwhelms Frank, leading to a heart attack that he doesn't survive. His funeral, instead of being a solemn farewell, becomes an eerie gathering of young internet users, morbidly fascinated by his life.
In the digital aftermath of his death, Frank's legacy takes on a life of its own. Obsessive fans, irreverent memes, and endless debates about his forgotten "stardom" create a surreal and distorted version of Frank's life. This story is a darkly humorous and poignant reflection on fame, legacy, and the strange ways the internet immortalizes even the most fleeting moments.
Bradley Hall
Bradley Hall is a personal finance and tax expert living in Raleigh, NC with his wife, Amanda, and their dog, Yelena. Originally from Jacksonville, FL, Bradley has attended the University of North Florida where he was conferred with a BA degree in Psychology, and Western Carolina University where he received his BA in Finance. He writes about topics that interest him.
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Seriously Gross and Morally Bankrupt - Bradley Hall
A Brush with Fame
Frank Archer eased himself into his favorite armchair, the soft groan of worn leather mixing with his own creaky joints. Eighty years old now, he found solace in routine—his small house in the outskirts of Los Angeles, the hum of the ceiling fan, and the familiar feel of the daily paper in his hands. The digital age had never really captivated him, though his grandchildren had tried to get him interested in smartphones and social media. He preferred simpler things: the steady rhythm of a quiet life.
As he settled in, his mind drifted, as it often did in recent years, to the past—particularly to the 1960s, a time when Los Angeles was still a little rough around the edges and the golden age of television was in full swing. Back then, he’d been young, full of hope, like everyone else in the city, trying to make something of himself. He never really intended to be part of show business, but in Los Angeles, show business often found you.
Frank hadn’t made it big—far from it. He’d spent most of his career as an accountant, making a modest but steady living. But there had been that odd brush with Hollywood, those two fleeting moments when he found himself under the bright, hot lights of a television set.
It all started with his friend, Tony Matteo, who worked as a casting director. Tony had always been one of those people who seemed to know everyone in the business, always busy, always in demand. Frank had met him at a party back in ‘63, a strange little get-together thrown by one of Tony’s Hollywood connections. Frank wasn’t even sure why he’d gone—he’d never felt particularly comfortable around actors, all the big personalities and the endless talking about scripts and contracts. But Tony had been different. He didn’t have the air of self-importance that a lot of Hollywood types did. They’d clicked over a mutual love for jazz and bonded over the Dodgers’ first World Series win.
One night, a couple of years later, Tony called Frank out of the blue.
Frankie, you doing anything right now?
Frank chuckled to himself, recalling how he'd been sitting at home, staring blankly at an old Western on TV, eating a TV dinner. I could’ve lied and said I was busy, but for some reason, I didn’t.
Nope. What’s up?
Listen, I need a huge favor. One of the extras dropped out last minute—don’t ask—and I need someone, like, right now.
What kind of favor is this, Tony?
Frank had asked, suspicion dripping from his voice. Tony’s favors had a way of turning into elaborate, unexpected situations.
It’s nothing big. Just a quick appearance. Two scenes, max. You stand there, look serious, maybe say a line or two, and you’re done.
I’m not an actor, Tony.
Doesn’t matter. They just need a warm body. You’ll get paid, and you’ll be doing me a solid.
That’s how Frank found himself on the set of a sci-fi show that everyone in town was talking about. It was a low-budget thing, a space adventure show called Galactic Odyssey. It had a small but passionate following. Tony had described it as a show about exploring space, making contact with aliens, and moral dilemmas set against futuristic backdrops. Frank hadn’t really cared; it was all gibberish to him. He just did it as a favor.
The scene they needed him for involved some sort of interplanetary meeting. He was supposed to play a stern, unflinching alien ambassador, a background figure in an elaborate costume, complete with a stiff rubber forehead and metallic shoulder pads. Frank remembered standing there under those sweltering lights, waiting while the lead actor, dressed in a skin-tight uniform, argued with some bug-eyed creature about galactic peace