Tyson’s board crested the waves, saltwater crashing against it as Tyson steeled himself, hopping to his feet. He leaned into the wave, riding with it as far as he could. A distant “YEAH!” came from the shoreline. He gave a knowing smirk; he was CRUSHING it. The wave broke into the sea’s plane, and Tyson in one fluid motion fell to his belly. He almost went to try and take another wave, but a faint “tweedle dee” came from the shoreline. Instantly, he turned around and started paddling furiously towards the shore.

That sound started as an in-joke between him and a costar. It was a snippet of an old sitcom jingle from the 1970s, one that another actor on their sitcom had starred in previously. Tyson and his friend put it on the pager so that whenever it went off, the oldie would get a flash of recognition across his face. It was funny to them at that point.

Tyson had memorized every note of that snippet by this point. He had played it to himself in bed, pressing the “play” button over and over again. That sitcom he was on ended after 5 seasons, and the follow up teen movie he did wasn’t a career starter; Surf Ninjas surprisingly did not tout him as a new acting powerhouse in Hollywood. Syndication residuals were nice, but he was living in a one bedroom apartment in Cali with no steady job besides the occasional gig as an extra or a guest star or autograph person.
The pager was given to him by his agent, and he got beeped whenever he had a possible new gig lined up. The sound had a pavlovian response on him, and even as his friends arched their eyebrows at him for paddling like a maniac to shore with no danger, his mind was focused entirely on his pager. He jumped to his feet, throwing his board to the side before sliding to his pager, quickly looking across the screen.
“NEW GIG. CALL ME ASAP. BIG ROLE.”

Tyson jumped for joy like a schoolgirl, crying into the air. “YESSSS!” Looking to his friends, he struck a pose. “TYSON IS BACK ON THE JOB!”