Hi, I’m here to talk to you about money. Look at me — I’m walking around a beautfiul desert landscape, talking about making money, and tell you that, “the American dream is gone and it ain’t coming back.” During shooting breaks, the production team drank fruit punch and ate edible panties — over 10 boxes of edible panties —boy, our dogs were tired after that day of shooting.
Luckily, we had some nice and dandy unpaid commerical actors providing testimonies regarding our unscucessful scheme program that since has folded. Footage of these unpaid commerical actors gave us something to cut away to, because I (i’m in the cowboy hat) cut my shooting schedule short — frankly, I ate too many gosh darn edible panties. Then our unpaid production assistants and our unpaid interns ran to the store to buy more edibile panties. What were they thinking? More edible panties? Those damn unpaid interns and production assistants should know better; they know I can’t stop eating edible panties.
Get a load of this: after production ended, my unpaid producer hauls in this box filled with receipts to me, receipts from the unpaid interns and production assistants, askin’ I be reimbersin’ for their takin’ kindly to my edible panty-fixin’-hankerin’. Now I’m a straight shooter and I tell ‘em how it tis: “You’re unpaid! Christ, you knew you’re going to be unpaid at the darn time you signed your unpaid contract. Were you expecting a for-hire opportunity after production? Don’t make me laugh. Christ, I ain’t ‘embersing you for the edible panties. I don’t care what you do on your tax returns. Cook the books or something. Write it off as a gift! Leave me alone, I want to play with my toys in my office.”
Wow-wee. Production was something else. My dogs were killin’ after production.
Rating: 30 Seconds of Hell
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