“So, here’s the pitch,” the waiter said to the notoriously nice actor sitting in his section.
“Thanks, but I’m just an actor,” he said. “I don’t have a production company or anything.” The actor shifted uncomfortably in his chair, suddenly even more aware of how crowded the restaurant was.
“You got a producer credit on the show you just made for HBO,” the waiter countered.
“My agent negotiated that,” the actor explained. “I don’t actually do any producing.”
“No, no, it’s cool; you’ll like this,” the waiter assured him.
“Okay, but I’m sitting with my family here, so please be respectful of that.”
“I understand,” the waiter said, nodding. “So, anyways, you know how like some scientists are trying to treat aging as a disease?”
“I was just reading about that!” The actor’s wife chimed in. She was immediately side-eyed.
“What if they actually discovered a cure for aging? Everyone is effectively immortal. Who would hate that?”
“The Catholic Church?” answered the actor’s teenage daughter.
“Vampires!” answered the actor’s eleven-year-old son.
The waiter smiled. “You have smart kids! So, this show is about vampires and the Catholic Church teaming up to prevent scientists from releasing a cure for aging.”
“Okay,” the actor said. “That’s not really the sort of thing I do, though.”
“All right, but I’ve already got Jim Gaffigan on board.”
“Really?”
“He agreed to do it, so long as I brought him some extra mayo.” The waiter paused. “Oh shit, I forgot to bring him that mayo.”