It is a very cold December night. Yours truly on duty in the role of Screenplay Paramedic. All the juice goes to the lighting and sound equipment. Unless you're directly under the lights it is freezing . There's a half-naked woman on a stone slab, enduring a full body makeup session.
Nobody knows what to do.
And nobody can find the director or the male lead. Enter Pecos Bill, stage left. I'd heard he'd been fired off another production for unscrupulous behavior. He swaggers around the set as if he'd lost a pillow fight with Mike Tyson. Clinging to his pinky is a gallon jug of cheap whisky, dangling between his legs like a great glass udder.