Two months to jump-off, I call in the few favours I have remaining in this town.
INT. THE PRODUCER’S OFFICE – DAY
Our WRITER sits on a KINDERGARTEN STOOL in front of a MASSIVE DESK, behind which sits his PRODUCER.
SUPER: “Thursday, 5 April”
PRODUCER
You what?
Our Writer kneads a CLOTH CAP that somehow appears in his hands.
WRITER
I uh –
PRODUCER
Shut up.
Our Writer looks at his Producer, his eyes showing equal parts fear and a desperate plea for help.
PRODUCER
Do you have a script?
Our Writer’s face betrays an incipient look of “funny-you-should-ask” --
WRITER
I uh –
PRODUCER
Shut up.
The Producer stares at the Writer.
PRODUCER
You’ve got until –
(off CALENDAR)
– the fifteenth to get me a full script.
WRITER
(whine)
The fiftee-
He freezes off a look from across the expanse of formica.
He notices he’s standing and promptly sits back down.
A THOUGHT BALLOON over our Writer: “15 April MINUS today (5 April) EQUALS -“
TIGHT ON WRITER – is he crying? – as --
WRITER
... Deal.
PRODUCER
Pardon?
WRITER
I said –
PRODUCER
Shut up.
