Rain of Blood

  So the other night a bunch of us are standing around the monitor
waiting for a blood gag to happen.
  For those of you not in the biz,
the monitor (or monitors) is where most of the business of film
directing is conducted. A direct feed of the image from the camera is
sent to high quality TV monitors. The director and his retinue sit at
or stand around these screens. The gang at the monitors can consist
of: the director, various producers, the script supervisor, the d. p.,
make up, hair, wardrobe, maybe the gaffer or key grip, the occasional
actor, the press in its many forms, landscapers, Calbrabrian
bricklayers, friends and family of the director and/or producer, friends and family of the director's and or producer's friends and family, and people who need information.
  Blood is going to squirt, jet really, and the jet is the result of a wound, which is simulated by squibs, which I explained in an earlier post.  The jet of blood is directed away from camera and away from video village, which is the industry name, locally, for the monitors and those around them.
  So the director yells action, and the squib goes off, and the blood jet, jets. Spectacular, and then, seconds later, the blood falls out of the sky and rains onto all those standing in "the village". We look at each other and laugh, everyone is liberally splattered with fake blood, very funny. There is no escaping the sticky shit.