Tales of Jack the Ripper by Ramsey Campbell, Joe R. Lansdale, Walter Greatshell, Laird Barron, E. Catherine Tobler, Ed Kurtz, Mercedes M. Yardley, Stanley C. Sargent, Joseph S. Pulver Sr.

whether you can afford to pay.”
    “This is a bit of a guerilla shoot, everything’s under the table, but after each day’s work you get a hundred quid—cash. Your scenes will likely only take a couple of weeks to shoot, but when the movie wraps you get an extra bonus of a thousand quid.”
    “In other words, I shouldn’t quit my day job.”
    “That depends on how well the picture does. It could be a big hit, in which case the sky’s the limit. Look what happened with Blair Witch .”
    “ Blair Witch was rubbish. So assuming I’m interested, what happens next?”
    “We schedule a time for you to come to the set and do a screen test, preferably as soon as possible.”
    “How soon could that be?”
    “First thing tomorrow morning?”
    “Mornings are bad for me, I’m a late sleeper. How about right now?”
    “But you’ve only just come off work. It’s nearly midnight.”
    “Midnight is my favorite time of day. I’m all pumped up and nowhere to go.”
    “I suppose it might be possible… if you really think you’re ready to go before the camera and read a few lines. I’d imagine the studio should be free at this hour. Look, I just don’t want you to feel needlessly rushed. It’s a fairly painless procedure as auditions go, but I do find some people require a certain amount of psychological preparation.”
    “Mister, I was born prepared. If this all turns out to be a load of bollocks, I’d rather find out sooner than later. Let’s go.”
    “After you.”
    “By the way, what’s the title of this motion-picture extravaganza of yours?”
    “One word: Heinous .”
    “ Heinous . Well, let’s hope it don’t live up to its name.”
     
    “Welcome to our little film studio.”
    “This is it?”
    “This is it.”
    “Not much to look at, is it?”
    “It’s all we need: lights, camera, action.”
    “Not much in the way of action. Where is everyone?”
    “Off for the day, I reckon. It’s just you and me, baby. Still ready for your close-up?”
    “I can’t believe this is what filmmaking has come to: a moldy basement hung with green draperies.”
    “Don’t knock our green screen—that’s where the magic happens.”
    “If you say so.”
    “Hey, filmmaking has always been the art of illusion. This is just the ultimate perfection of that art, creating almost everything necessary for a Hollywood epic right inside the computer.”
    “But doesn’t that rather take the glamour out of it?”
    “Glamour is a luxury we can’t afford, love. Fancy sets and exotic locations cost money. Pixels work cheaper than union film crews.”
    “It’s a bloody icebox in here, I can see my breath.”
    “Sorry, the heat’s off. Why don’t you go over these lines while I make us a spot of tea?”
    “Thanks. And I wouldn’t mind a tot of brandy in it.”
    “I may have just the thing.”
     
    “Fuckin’ hell, what’s this picture?”
    “Oh, that’s just the coroner’s photograph of Mary Jane Kelly.”
    “I can see that! Why have you got me looking at it?”
    “Just a little visual aid to help you get into character.”
    “I don’t want to see that—what are you, mad?”
    “Making a movie like this requires everyone involved to use their powers of imagination. This soundstage does not exist! Instead you must envision a gorgeous period-piece that interweaves both the terrifying monochrome of Psycho with the lurid Technicolor of Frenzy , because those are the contrasting visual motifs that audiences will see in the finished film. The idea is to combine the look of my earliest black-and-white pictures with the psychosexual opuses I make now.”
    “Come off it, it’s not a contender for the bloody Palme d’Or, it’s just a cheap horror movie. And to be honest, I’m not sure I care to be cut to pieces.”
    “Since you’re playing a victim of Jack the Ripper, it is somewhat mandatory.”
    “I don’t think so. In fact, you can shove it up your pretentious arse, Alfred—I’m outta here. Whoa…