From a Pastry

I cranked one out before a script meeting today. Not because I thought it would relax me. Because I couldn't help it. I started thinking about how my ex-wife looked one day when she was naked and crawling over to me in bed. I was on my back and I could see right where the curve of her ass began and the flesh parted. Her face flushed, breasts white and tender, dangling like. . .like breasts, hair stringy with sweat. At that moment she was the most beautiful woman Id ever seen.

There's something about coming straight from a j/o session to a business meeting that makes you feel a peculiar combination of fear and self hate. You wonder, can they tell? Do these executives know the depths of my passion? These normal, family loving people, who probably had girlfriends in high school? Could they even begin to comprehend my shamelessness?

Before I'd even sat down the fun one said,"What's that on your pants?"
"Where?"
"Over there." He pointed. "On your inner thigh."
I looked. There was a shiny, translucent stain, as if a slug had crawled partway down from my crotch and fallen off.
"Oh," I said. "I must've dropped a pastry on my leg."
I ran my finger over the stain and licked it. "Yup".

You see in college Freshman year, I dropped a pastry on my leg in the mess hall and then later in the dorm lounge some girl I"d gone to high school with said it was a cum stain, and everyone believed her. Those people probably still think I'm a pervert.

The weird thing is, everyone at the meeting believed me, even though this time it was a lie. I was asked no further questions about the stain. I guess it doesn't matter at all what you've actually done. The only thing that matters is what you can get people to believe you've done.

There was a big silver plate filled with pastries in the middle of the table. Halfway through the meeting I grabbed one, not thinking.
"I thought you already had a pastry," the fun one said.
"I like pastries," I said. "What are you, the pastry police?"
"If I was I'd arrest you," he said.

After the meeting I told the head of the studio I wouldn't work on the project unless they fired the fun one. Even if you're highly valued, you can only ask them to fire someone once every few years, and only if it's someone they can easily replace. But my 18 years in New Jersey taught me how to spot a bully, and I knew if I hadn't cashed in on some of my hard earned good will that guy might have ended up destroying me.

Kill while you have the power. Attack the cancer before it spreads. Tell everyone it's from a pastry. That's how you make it in Hollywood, kid.