Photographer: Oh, man. What is this? Who is this guy? Who picked this model? I demand to know.p

Assistant: I did, sir.

Photographer: Get out of my sight! Can't you see this model is clearly a man?

Assistant: Yes, sir. I thought we were doing the male clothing line shoot.

Photographer: You know I demand gender-ambiguous models! This…thing… is clearly male!

Assistant: But sir, he's wearing boxers.

Photographer: I don't care! Where's the mystery? Where's the mystique? I can't work with this mainstream crap!

(to male model) Do me a favor, hun.

Model: Anything you want, man.

Photographer: Just- (sigh)- just try to look as unattractive as possible. Alright? Do you think you can handle even that?

Model: Sure, I guess. Should I just slump over a little like this? See how it puffs out my non-existent gut a little?

Photographer: I suppose that's fine, yes. But no smiling, dammit. This is a serious clothing line. So serious it sucks even the POSSIBILITY of happiness from your soul. Alright?

Model: Well I usually-

Photographer: I don't give a sh*t what you usually do. This isn't the Sears catalog, kid. This is ART. Now get the F*** out of here. I have some little boys to shoot for our women's swimsuit line—

(To¬† assistant) —and you!

Assistant: Yes sir?

Photographer: Get me a enough spandex to make a snuggie. I'm feeling inspired.