The director yelled "Print it!" and everybody on the set cheered. This was the last scene on their shooting schedule for the week; they would've been done hours ago if Jack hadn't kept fucking up his lines. Generally they were all friends. The show was notorious for almost complete lack of friction. But now, at 2am at the end of a grueling 8-day week, after watching the same 10 seconds of screen time played out over and over and over, the crew were busy inventing new epithets for their buddy Jack.    "Ok guys," the director beamed, "I didn't think I'd ever get to say this, but it's a wrap! Go drink yourselves into oblivion, will ya?" As the crew started rolling up cables and the actors filed out into the night, he caught Jack's sleeve. "Got a second?" Jack mastered his best hurt puppy expression and steeled himself for a new asshole.    Dale wanted to catch at least some of the ripping. He felt tired and mean-spirited, and eavesdropping on the director murdering his costar seemed like a good way to vent the frustration at wasting the last four hours of his life watching him fuck up two short, simple lines. He paused in the doorway and weighed his options. He could stay and have a little bit of fun at Jack's expense, or he could go get drunk with the crew. This was a tossup, and his tired brain seemed unable to deal with the difficult choice. "C'mon Dale," Reg, the chief electrician yelled from the other end of the long hallway, "I'll buy you a drink. You earned it." Dale glanced back at Jack wriggling in the director's death grip, smirked with satisfaction, and followed Reg.    "Looks like he's really ripping into Jack, eh?" Reg said as the cold Toronto air hit them. "Maybe he'll quiet down a little after this."    "One could only hope," Dale raised an eyebrow. He threw his hand over the grip's shoulder. "Come on dude, I need a stiff drink." They stumbled over to the parking lot. Reg's ridiculously yellow pickup took up two spaces. Right behind it stood Dale's unassuming black compact. Terry was sitting cross-legged on the hood, shivering.    "You're gonna get a stiff something," Reg elbowed Dale in the ribs.