‘Martin,’ he replied, ‘you should save your energy. Nobody, but nobody, is going to want to make a picture about Boofuls. Why do you think that nobody’s done it already?’ ‘Maybe nobody thought of it,’ Martin suggested. ‘Maybe somebody thought of it, but felt that it was too obvious. But it seems like a natural to me. The small golden-haired boy from Idaho state orphanage who became a worldwide star in less than three years.’ ‘Oh, sure,’ Morris agreed. ‘And then got himself chopped up into more pieces than a Colonel Sanders Party Bucket.’ Martin put down his drink. ‘Well, yes. But everybody knows that, I mean that’s part of the basic legend, so I haven’t actually shown his death in any kind of graphic detail. You just see him being driven out of the studio that last evening, then fade-out. It’s a bit like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You remember the way that ended.’ Morris lowered his sunglasses and squinted at Martin thoughtfully. ‘You know something, Martin?
