I don’t know exactly why, and by now you know why I don’t know is because I’m so intuitive, but I wouldn’t do a family troubles episode for my TV mystery series, and I’d even go so far as to say that any conscientious woman operating under the impression that she and I belonged to the same tribe and therefore I had personally demeaned her with my silly blather about family life, which I don’t know shit about, since, and this is what she would say, I’m a tarty cunt who thinks being a high-class indoor whore instead of a curbside tramp somehow makes her more interesting or less deserving of public disgrace, although either way, that’s just how I earn my living, yes, from the two-timing of so many heads of families you could count them on the fingers of both hands and still not even come close, so if some conscientious woman were to get an episode on family life, as I’ve heard it described by the mumsyfuckers, into the series over my objections, because she thinks she could do more justice to the material, since for a woman to be portrayed as sharing the guilt for her husband’s two-timing would be an outrageous injustice as she sees it, if this woman were to succeed in getting the episode into the series, and it would be a fierce battle, since I would really be strongly opposed, though I doubt any feline maneuvers, such as face scratching with fingernails or spreading slanderous rumors, would come into play, this conscientious woman, were she to succeed in spite of everything in having the episode run on the series and getting the material shot, although I don’t think that would happen, since I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but the director, the DP, the sound engineer, and the technical director, in short, everyone except the second assistant camera, who is the one who holds the clapper, would probably be men, since they make up the majority in the more important professions, but if, in spite of everything, she managed to get the material shot, in that case I would resort to shady feminine practices without any qualms whatsoever, and like the flexible comic-book heroine and crimefighter the Catwoman I would scale up the drainpipe into the film studio building, and, using a key borrowed from someone on the crew, you ask what they received in return and whether it was my body, and maybe, it might be, yes, using the key I would unlock the editing room and find all the above-mentioned material that had been shot and was now waiting to be developed, and cut it up with a big pair of scissors, and as the pièce de résistance, I would slide back down the drainpipe, tiptoe unseen past the entrance gate, and ride the late-night connections back to my fuckshop as if nothing had happened. I would leave no proof whatsoever, and naturally, as the creator of the series, I would act utterly stunned and crestfallen on hearing the news of the break-in.
