"I WON'T!" he shouted again. He scrambled to his feet and made a dive for the weapon. He took it in his hand and waved it threateningly at the surrounding woods.
"Come out! Come out!" he screamed. The eyes of the forest blinked back at him in silence.
He flung the sword from his hand, as if in loathing. Then he crashed into the forest once more.
The Producer gurgled through his hookahmatic. Frick, his assistant, recognized this symptom of official disgust, and jumped to his feet.
"Turn it off!" the Producer said, gesturing towards the fidelivision screen. Frick turned it off. "No, leave it on," the Producer moaned, peeping at the white oblong through his chubby fingers. "Let's see what Manford does in this pickle." Frick turned it on.
"He'll probably drop in the dinosaur film," he said.
"If he does, I get a new Director," the Producer answered in a rumbling voice. "He's used that spot three times in the past month."
The fidelivision flashed. A screaming red title dripped bloodily across the screen. "Man Against Dinosaur!" it said. The Producer's angry cry almost drowned out the horrific roar of the live-prop brontosaurus that appeared.
"Meeting, meeting!" he cried. "We're going to have a staff meeting—right after the show!"