Lay of the Newfoundland and The Creepy Kid Shuffle

I KNOW THAT lately there's been a lot of guest posts and small vamping, but them's the breaks when you're trying to stickhandle a new show, and you've set yourself the ambitious bar of trying to have six scripts in some form by first day of principal. It becomes kind of all-consuming.

I've just gotten my 2nd crack at a script draft; outlines are proceeding...we've rebroken a great story and another fun one last week in a room that continues to gel quite nicely. We may even, heavens to Betsy, issue a draft labeled "PRODUCTION WHITE" by the end of the week.

And Mighty Mike Clattenburg hasn't even blown into town yet.

In the room, there's been the usual story room brand of filth, terrible impressions of Family Guy characters; in-jokes, disquisitions on slang, Newfoundland History, the meaning of yawning, the relative merits of male and female genitalia, scratching, full on re-enactments of the scene from Beverly Hills Cop when Eddie Murphy hangs off the Eighteen Wheeler, almonds, YouTube, and did I mention the filth?

Oh yes, and since, as we know, it's high on the list of all writers concerns, I am happy to report that lunch has lately taken a turn for both the healthy, and the delicious.

Our temp offices are in an old, Seventh-Day Adventist School in Rabbittown. There's something vaguely creepy about the place. A forlorn sort of Blair Witch Feel. I locked up one night because I stayed late.

I was in a groove and still writing, and by the time I left it was dark and on the way out I nearly pooed from the fear. No joke.

It's like there in the darkness were the souls of a thousand little kids all waiting for The Catcher in the Rye or something.

But at least the story room has an espresso machine. That's right, bitches. With a frothing system.

Hey there Little Mosque and Erica....JEALOUS?

Oooh, woo Flashpoint, with your long hours and vague promises of CBS returns next year -- do YOU have a frothing system? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say 'no.'

[Note to Flashpoint: the above was a joke. I know some of you are very sensitive flowers. Joke.]

Seriously though, I KNOW you don't have a frothing system. Take your 35mm and big fake guns and stunt budget and helicopter shots; we have cappucino in the story room, playa! That's right. Damn!

Now if only we had offices.

Once we move, Sahib. Once we move.

Oh look at that. It's my inner voice. So calm, so ethereal. Offering such wise counsel.

Don't built it up too much.

What will it be like in the promised land, Sahib?

Oh, Children, the frothing system is only the beginning.

Good to know. Until the move, then, I guess I either have to learn to never work past dark, or learn to shut the door in order to block out the willie-giving spirits.

Seriously, if I see anything that looks even vaguely like the kid from Village of the Damned, I'm outta here.

Last one out, take the froth. Leave the cannoli.