Hi! This is awfully fun. Hi, I’m Denis, and I’m a vampire. Hi, Denis. It’s been two weeks since my last pint. I am actually here tonight to give out a couple of awards, but before I do that I’d just like to remind all the writers in the room — can you put your hands up, anyone who’s a writer in the room? Great, great, great, resumé, resumé. I want to remind you that what you do has consequences. I know that wasn’t in dispute, but it has consequences, so when you’re sitting there in your room, typing away, and you type things like, “The vampire king lies helpless as the concrete floods around his face, inching up toward his chin, covers his nostrils, until we only see a pair of eyes, and we can feel the silent scream,” just remember that I am the guy, at four o’ clock in the morning in Tarzana, doing that. Okay? Just remember. So when you’re writing, you may consider putting in things like, “The vampire king relaxes for his therapeutic massage,” “The vampire king reaches for the top-shelf bourbon,” just, you know. Ideas, ideas.
Left: You’re an over-the-hill middleweight in the fourth round of a televised HBO fight you’re doomed to lose, hanging on just long enough for one last decent payday.
Center: You’re a bipolar creative director of an ad agency, off your meds and trying to sell some McDonald’s executives on the idea of Photoshopping a Big Mac into a Rembrandt self-portrait.
Right: You’re a 17-year-old stage-door Johnny standing outside the Metropolitan Opera, your eyes trailing your favorite diva as she and her entourage depart.