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Not far away in the busy metropolis, in a swanky film studio warehouse, a tragic scene was unfolding.
"No Julia," said the tall, handsome, brooding man, his fascinating eyebrows quivering sadly. "I don't love you. I never have."
"Oh Hank!" said Julia. "How can you say such things!"
"I thought I loved you. But that was before I realized that you were an undercover agent tracking me for government secrets. I can't be with someone who bugs my hotel room, darling."
"But why not!" sobbed Julia into her handkerchief.
"CUT for cryin' out loud!" said the director. "You're makin' ME cry."
"Really?" said Julia, who really wasn't Julia at all, but an up-and-coming young starlet named Maureen.
"Yeah," said the director. "I'm crying when I think how much this contract cost. Where'd you say you went to acting school again?"
"Why, I -"
"Never mind, sweetheart, it doesn't matter. Take a break. I know I need one."
"I don't know how you do it, Grody." said the director to "Hank".
"Do what, Sam?"
"Look these little hussies in the eye and pretend to take them seriously. Look at 'er! Off to the make-up dresser again. If I wanted a painted mannequin, I would have hired a department store dummy and an Avon lady."
"Aw, giver a break. It's her first big thing. You don't exactly learn to be Katherine Hepburn doing SoftSpread commercials."
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