“Good news, Bill,” Ivan said. “We’ve got our meeting with the production company.”
“Awesome. I was just tweaking our pitch today,” Bill said. “I’m really proud of the work we’ve done.”
“Good, good.” Ivan responded. “Lookit, they’re looking for a bunch of reality TV and they kinda want to hear five pitches.”
“Five pitches?” Bill asked incredulously. “We’ve been working on one show for the last eighteen months. Why would they want five pitches?”
“I kinda told them, we’d do it.”
“Okay, fuckit, fine. Reality show. Um, how about a show about where we give celebrity chefs fast food and they try to figure out what they are eating?”
“Like, if it’s from McDonald’s or Burger King or the ingredients?”
“Dude, I don’t fucking care. I’ve been working on our main show.”
“Right, right,” Ivan said. “How about ‘Parking Wars?’”
“That’s already a show.”
“No, but on our show, people have to find a free or cheap parking spot close to their downtown destinations.”
“Good enough. How about, ‘Can I Fit in the Box’ the show where people act like cats for cash prizes?”
Several hours later:
“Okay,” Ivan said, “so, we’ve got the parking one, the chef one, the box one, and the rub that on my face one. That’s four. What was our fifth one?”
“Our actual idea, Ivan,” Bill said. “The one we’ve been working on for the last year and a half?”
“Oh right, our documentary about the refugee from Myanmar who becomes a concert cellist.”