24
Pugsley Cracks Wise
Arlen had mastered the art of sitting importantly at his desk. Above his head hung an oil portrait of the Savior pointing skyward, perhaps the artist's way of suggesting the life to come but more likely put there to inspire the aspiring film director with thoughts of what it must be like to be the Big Guy who can cue real plagues and global floods instead of mere digital simulations.
"You got your nerve coming here," he said.
"What did I do?" I asked.
Maybe he can tell me.
"I tried to warn you," he said. "Now we're all hip-deep in the sheep dip with no way out." He surveyed his luxurious office. "Not that it's a bad job. I just gotta convince these backers of yours some parts of the Old Testament are just too dirty to put on the small screen, if you get my mean
