Reporter: “Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Baby Jane.”

Bette Davis, still in her Baby Jane makeup years after said film was filmed, because that mess is hard to scrape off, left: “The pleasure is all mine. As long as you stay on the other side of that window and follow the Six-Feet Rule. And you don’t ask me any insipid questions.”

Reporter: “I’ll do my very best. By the way, why does this window smell like Joan Crawford?”

Baby Jane: “That’s an insipid question. But if you must know, it smells that way because the lock is broken and the window never closes. Just like Joan, if you get my drift.”

Reporter: “Are you saying that Joan is open all night?”

Baby Jane: “I believe her records at the health clinic make that very clear. I understand that she alone is responsible for the lack of testing kits in Los Angeles. But enough about desperate women who will do anything to remain in the spotlight. Let’s discuss my new movie. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Reporter: “Well, I’m actually here because I’m your mailman. I only became a reporter when you caught me peeking in this window and I suddenly needed a cover story.”

Baby Jane: “Oh, Well, do you have a blog? I understand those things are the new black.”

Mailman: “Um, I know someone who has a blog. He publishes at Bonnywood Manor in Texas.”

Baby Jane: “That’s a big state, right? Lots of people and lots of readers?”

Mailman: “Big state, yes. Lots of readers, no. A bunch of those folks aren’t known for scholarly research. On anything. Unless it involves guns or conspiracy theories.”

Baby Jane: “Well, it’s hard to get publicity during the Lock-Down unless you’re an orange man who tells lies every afternoon, so I’ll take what I can get. My new movie started filming yesterday and things are going splendidly well. I’m sure it will be a huge hit. Bigger than anything Joan could dream of when she’s not burning through testing kits and cheap hotel mattresses.”

Reporter Once Again: “Filming? How are you managing that, with this Lock-Down and all? Most people can’t find toilet paper and yet you somehow found a production crew?”

Baby Jane: “Oh, much of the crew was hired locally, mostly from the staff in my expansive but decaying mansion. And the movie is self-produced, self-financed, self-written and self-delusioned. I’m playing the role of The Corona Virus.”

Reporter: “That…doesn’t sound wise. Why would you do that?”

Baby Jane: “Have you seen my movies? I often play the role of a deadly virus, just with different costumes and settings.”

Reporter: “Uh huh. And who else is in the movie? More of the decaying staff?”

Baby Jane: “I’m glad you asked. I had to get creative with casting, which meant that I had to create the cast. Right now I’m holding one of my co-stars, Baby Baby Jane. Isn’t she just darling?”

Reporter: “Not really. She’s giving me a death stare that makes me feel uncomfortable, like when my mother found my stash of porno magazines.”

Baby Jane: “Oh, she’s just in character, as we’re about to film a delicious scene wherein she finds out that the government has been lying to her about how deadly my character really is.”

Reporter: “So this is a political parable?”

Baby Jane: “Parable? No, it’s a documentary about the Trump Administration.”

Reporter: “Okay, then. And who else is starring with you?”

Baby Jane: “Well, I haven’t finished casting him yet, literally, but he’s the twin brother of Baby Baby Jane, and his name is Sweet Baby James.”

James Taylor suddenly walks into the room, smelling of Carly Simon’s faded window. “I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain, but I never thought I’d see a copyright violation in an obscure scene that never happened.”

Reporter: “Have you ever read a post on Bonnywood? Happens all the time. Obscure references are a hallmark. And you just proved it with this cameo.”

Baby Jane: “Don’t be harsh, reporter mailman. I think he has a certain flair, and a pulse, that most of my co-stars don’t. James, would you like to be in my film?”

James: “What’s in it for me? I’ve needed a lot of validation since I found out about all the other clouds Carly had in her coffee.”

Baby Jane: “We could revitalize your career. It’s a new world, and the Internet can change everything in two seconds. Because a lot of people don’t research anything and they just fully accept the twittered inanities of a child-man with no grasp of reality.”

James: “Sounds good. Sign me up.”

Baby Jane: “Oh. Well, you still have to audition.”

James: “Are you serious? For a home movie?”

Baby Jane: “Do you want the part or not? Auditions aren’t that hard. Just repeat one of your song lyrics and my sound engineer, who used to be my gardener, will capture it on audio for review.”

James: “Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.”

Baby Jane: “Terrific! You’re hired.”

Reporter: “And if you change ‘sweet’ to ‘bitter’, you’ve got the perfect tagline for your obscure documentary about Trump’s pointless press conferences.”

Baby Jane: “Great idea!”

Baby Baby Jane: “My battery is low.”

Reporter: “And that could be the alternate tagline.”