On the top floor of Trainwreck Productions is a hallway dedicated to the finest moments in the studio’s history. Moments such as Rip Torn’s flaccid penis in The Man Who Fell to Earth, Keanu Reeves’ hairy ass cheeks in The Devil’s Advocate, plus many other fine specimens of film nudity were immortalized down this corridor. And at the very end of the hallway, where the conference room sat, was a large poster of my finest hour: This Tastes Like Ass. I felt like a part of living history…and that I’ve done more to make this studio great than that thieving bastard Jimmy Del Greco.

To my shock, there was Jimmy standing at the end of a long conference table where Greta and her team, including Cassandra, were waiting on us. The great Burbank skyline stood a mile high out the window behind Jimmy. Pablo, Kat, and myself took seats on one side of the table. Greta and her goons on the other.

“Thank you all for being here,” Jimmy began, still in his Tom Ford tuxedo. “I know I shouldn’t be here given the legal action that resulted in the death of my attorney from James Pietermeister. But HR wanted me to give a quick spiel on sexual harassment before production begins on Chatty Cathy.”

We all groaned.

Jimmy clicked a remote and above him a large screen slowly rolled down. The lights dimmed and a projector illuminated an image of a woman on the screen. “Mr. Pietermeister, do you know what this is?” Jimmy asked me.

I shrugged. “A woman?”

“Very good,” he said. Then he tossed me a Kit Kat bar. He clicked the remote again and another image appeared. “Greta, do you know what this is?”

“A man, Mr. Del Greco.”

“Yes,” he said, then tossed her a bag of M&Ms. “And you know what happens when men and women work together?”

No one said anything.

“Well let me show you,” Jimmy explained. Then he fumbled with the remote for a few minutes trying to click on a YouTube hyperlink. After he figured it out, a video played of a female director, the same one I identified in the image, attempting to convince a male actor to expose his penis for a nude scene.

“Come on Bob!” the woman shouted to the man. “All the cool actors hang wang in the pictures these days! Have you ever seen Westworld?!”

“Gee miss,” the actor replied, “I ain’t never showed my pee pee on camera before!”

The woman placed her hand around the actor. “It’s okay Bob,” she says, trying to calm him. “No one will laugh at your laughably small penis. Size doesn’t matter. I swear.” Then the director placed her hand on his crotch.

“Halt!” a narrator said. “What would you do in this situation? Think about it…think about it…okay, what did you come up with?”

Jimmy paused the video and stepped in front of the screen. “Okay, what did you guys come up with?” he asked.

The room was silent.

Then Pee-Wee, my handy production assistant, raised his hand. “Actors should always do what the director asks of them,” he suggested.

“No Pee-Wee. But that was a good try,” Jimmy said then tossed him a Snickers. “Anyone else want to guess?”

“Actors and actresses shouldn’t have to do nudity if they don’t want to,” Greta spoke up.

“Bingo!” Jimmy said. As a reward, Greta was given a $10 Subway gift card. “You see folks,” Jimmy continued, “the purpose of this exercise is to highlight the need to get along. We have a lot of hands in this production and the last thing we need is another sexual harassment lawsuit. The studio just can’t afford it right now. So let’s all come together, hold hands, sing Kumbaya, and for fucks sake let’s make a great picture!”

TO BE CONTINUED…