INT. OFFICEIn an average, dull apartment. JOE walks around the room,hands clutched over his head. Muttering to himself.JOE (V.O.)Another day.JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)Another word.JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)Another sentence.JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)You get the drift.JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)That’s my profession. Thescreenwriter. I write the shit yousee. On screen.JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)Action. Joe sits at his computer...and doesn't have any fucking idea what to do...JOE (V.O.) (CONT’D)He stares at a coffee cup inhorrible defeat.But he smiles as he sees a plate at the edge of his deskJOE (CONT’D)Fortunately for me. I haveinspiration.JOE grabs a plate full of cocaine on his desk.JOE (CONT’D)Come to papa.JOE snorts the plate and is taken into a world of many colorsand other pretty things, like ponies and cookies.EXT. PARKING LOTJOE is sitting Indian style in a parking lot in front of atea set. Across from him is AMANDA, his drug induced friend.To his left is a teddy bear named Mrs. Nesbit.Joe clears his nose.