Actress Tanya Danielle has very little experience with live theatre. On a given Sunday she finds herself exhausted between her matinee and evening performances. Hoping no one will mind she lies down for a nap in one of the backstage sitting areas. The presence of another person awakens her a short time later. Wearily she opens her eyes to see who has entered the room. A large man holding a video camera stands before her. Somewhat sheepishly she tells him that she had been hoping to get a little rest before the next show. He does not respond. "Am I in the way here?" she asks. The man keeps o...

Actress Tanya Danielle has very little experience with live theatre. On a given Sunday she finds herself exhausted between her matinee and evening performances. Hoping no one will mind she lies down for a nap in one of the backstage sitting areas. The presence of another person awakens her a short time later. Wearily she opens her eyes to see who has entered the room. A large man holding a video camera stands before her. Somewhat sheepishly she tells him that she had been hoping to get a little rest before the next show. He does not respond. "Am I in the way here?" she asks. The man keeps on filming her. Tanya sits up and puts her hands on her hips. "Why are you pointing that camera at me? Turn it off." she demands, realizing that she should have asserted herself as soon as he had approached her. He says nothing but gestures at a yellow index card that is lying on the carpet between them. Tanya regards the man for a moment before reaching for the card. A slimy substance coats her fingertips as soon as she picks it up. Tanya shudders involuntarily but holds onto the card and stares at the words written across the front of it. With a felt-tip marker someone has scrawled: "Tanya, this paper has been poisoned. You are now turning into a blow-up doll." Despite the ludicrous content of the message Tanya feels a surge of terror grip her soul. The card flutters to the floor as she tries in vain to rub the noxious substance off of her fingers. She only succeeds in spreading even more of the goo over her exposed skin. Nonsensically she cries out to the cameraman: "Help me! Help me get this stuff off of me!" Even as she speaks the words she realizes that he is the person who has orchestrated her demise. Her legs are now rooted firmly to the floor and her skin has started to take on the consistency of plastic. She continues trying to call out for help, hoping that someone, anyone will hear her, but it is too late. Tanya's full, well-formed lips have now frozen into the obligatory "O" shape of a cheap, standard-issue, store-bought blow-up doll. The petrified, blonde actress will never again move another muscle or utter another word..