His editor rang at dawn, knowing he’d be a few hours into his writing by then.
“This play you sent me.”
“What about it?”
“It’s pretty close to plagiarism.”
The author’s groan was just audible over the line.
“OK, who did I rip off and can we pay them off?”
“Well I’m not sure about that last point, given that you ripped off yourself.”
The line went dead for a moment, so she continued.
“The whole second act is pretty much ripped off from that lesbian two-hander you did.”
“So what? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Ask Jeff Fogerty.”