ONE
I can pinpoint exactly when things began to go whackadoodle again. Later, everyone else said it had something to do with a peculiar full moon. It was green, blue, or so close to the earth you could French kiss the man in the moon. For me, it began and ended with my daughter dearest who was trying to blackmail me as we sat in Juliet’s eating breakfast together.
It was already shaping up to be one of those weeks, and it was only Wednesday. They were supposed to start shooting Beauty and the Zombie Part Two: Escape from Alcatraz soon, and I hadn’t finished the script yet. All the studio and the director had seen was my treatment—which wasn’t as detailed as it should be. Sally St. James, the studio head, called me every fifteen minutes to ask about it. My fourteen-year-old son, David, ke
