Zero & Peter's Apartment (Casa Swerval), Los Angeles, Saturday Night

Zero was sitting upside down on the couch, feet in the air and her head near the floor, and her camcorder had been rigged up under the coffee table with tape and a couple of unbent wire hangers. She reached over, pressed 'record,' and started reading from a set of index cards all metaed as appropriate:

( Cut for length and ragging on a perfectly respectable actor. )

((Open to the boyfriend or for phone calls/e-mails/carrier pigeons.))