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SORRY SORRY SORRY for the delay in posting. I will try to get you caught up on what's been happening, and there has been quite a bit going on.

As you may recall, when we last left our heroes, we had one night of filming left, but it involved the final burn gag, which had to be done at dawn, and I had just discovered that the manager and the workers at the scrapyard would be there, preventing us from filming. So I was desperately trying to think of an alternative plan.

But there was another problem: I felt guilty about it. Southern Indiana Recycling had been so gracious to us, so accommodating to our needs, and here I was, plotting to sneak around their one rule so I could get my ending. I felt bad. Then, as we drove home that morning from the shoot, pulling into my parents' long driveway, I saw something. My parents lived next to a big open field, which had recently been mowed. They owned the property, so burning a mannequin on it wouldn't be a problem. We'd have a p.a. standing by with a fire extinguisher, so it couldn't burn out of control, and if the burn gag was covered by all three cameras shooting up from ground-level, the background would be the sky, and you wouldn't be able to tell it wasn't the scrapyard! I called Clifton the D.P. and explained my plan to him, and he thought it would work. We would use both Canon 5D Mark II cameras and a T2i for the third (I had been assured that the quality and color would match the 5D). So, I told Clifton, we would shoot our final night's scenes, then at dawn go over to my parents and shoot the burn gag. If we finished early, everyone could go back to the motel for a quick nap before dawn.

That night, we nabbed all of our shots, and since it was pretty early, Clifton asked if he could re-do the crane shot on top of the trailer. Upon re-examination of the footage, he noticed that you could see a light in the background of every shot. I agreed, and they set up the jib and we re-filmed David doing Vogel's triumphant moment. During a break, I mentioned to everyone that we were ready for the burn gag. I had called my old filmmaking pal Don Rasmussen to ask him what had been used to set an actor on fire for a previous production we had worked on together, and he told me the special effects crew had slathered on some simple rubber cement, the type you use to glue pictures into an album. Wal-Mart came to the rescue again, and I bought six bottles which I tested that afternoon. They would work fine. I asked Clifton if there was anything else he wanted to re-shoot, and he did request one other scene, which I agreed to, but even after shooting that, we would be done early. I told everyone that we would break, get a quick nap, then come back and reassemble just before dawn. Mitch the gaffer perked up, "Does this count as a new day?"

I told him no, because if we didn't break and continued to shoot straight through the dawn shots, it would be under 12 hours and still considered one night shoot. I told him I was being nice and letting everyone get 40 winks instead of working them to the grind. We got the rest of the footage in the can, and were only held up once by a freak windstorm that chased everyone inside, but I stayed outside, letting the winds blow up the dust and dirt which swirled around me like a tornado lover. We finished our shots, the truck was re-loaded, and everyone got ready to go back to the motel. I had a brief dust-up with Clifton, who had told me he would be available to help clean the lighting equipment the next day, but now said he couldn't do it, as he had taken a new job. We had two guys who would go, however, so it was covered.

We broke up, and as I closed the gate to the scrapyard behind me, I did a Mary Tyler Moore, looking back one last time after I wrapped the chains around the entrance.

I showered at Mom and Dad's then got a couple hours' worth of sleep before I had to get up and get things ready for the final shot. Everyone showed up on time (except for Mitch, who was, Clifton told me, back at the motel 'guarding' the grip truck), and we had about 30 minutes before the sun would come up. We took George the Mannequin and dressed him up in wardrobe, then, since he had no hair, we took the wig I had salvaged from Georgette's demise and Carolina the Makeup Lady took a pair of scissors and snipped the long strands off until it was short and manly-looking. We put it on George's head and carried him out to the field. I took one of the rubber cement bottles and using the applicator brush, literally painted the glue all over George's face and head, then down his body, brushing his clothing with the goop. After a couple of bottles, I opened two more and just let the thick opaque material run down his head and chest. The sun was peeking over the treetops. It was time.

David grabbed hold of one disattached arm, and Windham took the other. I told them that they might feel some heat on their faces but it shouldn't be bad, but if it was too much to take, then to just yank the mannequin to the ground. The instructions were laid out for everyone, Mike the P.A. was standing by with the fire extinguisher, all 3 cameras were mounted and ready, aiming up from a very low angle, and the actors had tight grips on the mannequin's arms, which were not attached to the body inside the sleeves of the shirt, scored at the underarm. I called for the cameras to roll, then a match was tossed at George. Nothing.

"Another match!" I yelled. Another one was tossed at the gluey figure. Nothing.

"Once more!" The third match struck George in the chest and in a matter of seconds, the mannequin was a pillar of fire. It looked great, until I realized that David and Windham were just holding the arms and not moving. "Struggle with him!" I yelled. "Act like he's alive and you're holding him in place!" Instantly, both actors began grappling with the arms, reminding me briefly of Bela Lugosi and the fake octopus from BRIDE OF THE MONSTER, but better than that, obviously. The mannequin was getting hot, and I could see that Windham was getting uncomfortable with the heat. "Drop him!" I yelled, and the pair pulled on the arms, which pulled free spectacularly from the body. The flaming plastic corpse fell forward. I let it burn for a few seconds, then called "Cut!", and Mike rushed in to spray it down, putting the fire out. We checked the footage and it looked great. Congratulating ourselves, we walked back to the house, leaving the real unsung hero, George, lying facedown in the grassy field, burned to a crisp and covered in silvery white dust, a casualty of the cinema.

That was it. We were done. We all congratulated each other, and as each member of the cast and crew said goodbye, I handed out their final checks before the crew went their separate ways.

The actors went back to the motel, and I went to bed. Later that day, we had kind of a celebratory cookout at my folks, after which Windham asked if he could honor a longtime tradition he always held. My parents had a small trash pit next to the driveway which they would sometimes use to burn garbage (there is no garbage pickup service in rural Hayden). Windham wanted to burn his wardrobe as a gesture of thanks to the Film Gods. Benjamin said he would like to, as well. David passed, wanting to keep his clothes. We stoked up a fire, and with loving care, Windham laid his blood-and-dirt-encrusted pants and shirt over the flames. He also tossed in the camera which had hung from his neck in every shot. Benjamin threw in his shirts, pants and cap. As we watched the thick black smoke twist into the air, we all felt kind of sad, as we knew this was a final moment for us.

The plane ride back was quiet and unassuming. We were arriving into LA around midnight, and the flight was only a third full, so Benjamin took a row and sprawled out, while Windham and Carolina chattered and giggled in the seats before me. At LAX, we found that none of our baggage had arrived with our flight. An American Airlines rep told us it would arrive the next morning. Carolina was particularly upset, as her makeup kit had been in her luggage, and she had a job the next morning. She would now have to cancel it. We all hugged each other goodbye and morosely marched outside to our prospective rides. Cliff picked me up, and the ride home was quiet. There was nothing more to say. This part was over. Soon, I would begin the editing.

Or would I?

To be continued...

DOCTOR 13