"Lay off!" Ween broke in. He glared at Grabinett. "Lay off my property. You ain't just talking to talent. He's a star." "The question," Grabinett told the star with exaggerated calm, "was: You seen me play the part of Santa Claus in our comedy sketch. Now, for five thousand dollars, can you tell us another name for Santa Claus. That was the question. And she give the right answer. Kris Kringle. But no, you said. Sorry, you said. That's not right. Thank you. Merry Christmas. And you hung up the phone and hung me up with the FCC. That dame's husband is a lawyer. He called back before we went off the air. He's so goddam mad he's suing us for fraud. He's suing the network." Grabinett's voice broke in agony. "He's suing the client. The client!" "The answer was St. Nicholas," Mason shouted. "It was Kris Almighty Kringle!" Lennox could have backed out and disappeared unnoticed; instead he thrust the dressing room door wide. The knob struck the dummy and knocked it to the floor. Everyone twisted around and saw him. Instantly they seemed to close ranks. Even the dummy shifted its eyes malevolently. Lennox looked them over insolently, daring them to attack. They attacked, "Ask him!" Mason cried. "Ask him! He wrote it. He's supposed to know all the answers. The Thinker!" "It's his fault," Irma said. "Where the hell you been?" Grabinett blurted. "You know what happened? If you'd been around tonight we wouldn't be in this jam." "You got one hell of a nerve writing a lousy show like this for my property," Tooky Ween growled, "I want a new writer hired." "You don't need a writer," Lennox snapped. "You need an education. And don't try to rap me for that skyscraper fiasco. F-I-A-S-C-O. I voted for Rear-Projection at the conference." "You can't get laugh values with projection," the agent rumbled. "You got to pin-point my boy on a genuine set." "And what happened on the genuine set? Lennox eyed Mason coldly. You dropped the dummy? For laugh values?" "They never gave me a chance to rehearse the chimney," Mason wept. "When I got halfway down with the bag of presents and I say to Diggy: Hey Diggy! This ain't the right chimney. It smells wrong. And Diggy says...." From the floor the dummy cackled: "Better get your paddle out, Mig. You're up the creek." Lennox scowled. "I told your gagmen not to use that. We agreed to cut it." He enlisted Grabinett. "You backed me up, Mel. Yes?" "Yeah," Grabinett answered. He too scowled at Mason. "But it's the best boffola in the routine. When I did it on the Oddfellows show last year they--" "Used it last year? You swore the Santa sketch was an original." Lennox attacked Tooky Ween. "You guaranteed Mason would use nothing but original material on this show. Fact?" "Listen," Ween began to explain, "My boy is--" "Your boy is going to lay a suit for breach of contract in your lap if you don't watch him."