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Here I am, Mrs. Maureen Callahan, proprietor of a wonderful, homey, bar-restaurant in Ireland. My husband is dead and I carry on his family tradition of running the pub business. Ah, but the loan sharks are after me, trying to take away my sole source of income. What's a poor widow to do?

Note I'm holding a bottle of Cuervo Tequila, my poor dead husband's favorite drink. Go figure.

I really enjoyed this shoot. I developed an Irish accent which was a lot of fun. Note the photo on the bar to your left. It's my dearly departed father posing as the dearly departed Mr. Callahan.

My dearly departed husband comes back from the dead to the rescue. The tenor of the film then changes -- a lone dart player with no name enters the bar, plays some darts very well, and gets into a karate fight with the money lenders, thus saving the day.

Here you see the Dart Bandito himself, Everett Kavanauch, practicing his kicks as the cameraman sets up the next shot.

Sometimes these things happen. It's sad, but true. As far as I know, this film was never finished. At the end of the day at the location, the crew heave a sign of relief and start packing up, having just finished the last shot. I say, "Wait a minute! You didn't get half of my shots." "What are you talking about?" asked Jonathan Spielberg (no relation). "We got all the shots," as he looks at his shot list. I say, "But you didn't get the reversals. Everything was over my shoulder to the men I was speaking with, not the other half, me talking to them." Jonathan and the others ponder a long, pregnant moment and realize they overlooked about 10 shots. Jonathan quickly asks the manager of the location if we can stay just a bit longer and he gives a flat, uncompromising no. End of story. Jonathan and I keep in touch for a few months, but we never got those shots. I was never contacted about any screening. The lights figuratively went out. Ah well, luck of the Irish.