We're the new Matt and Ben, Part 2

Roy shook his hands excitedly in front of his face and said, "HOLY SHIT, MAN, WE'RE GOING TO BE FUCKING RICH! I MEAN FUCKING RICH!!!"

"Chill, dude," I said. "We don't even have a script yet. Dude. We don't even have an idea for a movie."

"HOW HARD CAN IT BE? JUST WRITE SOMETHING CLEVER. AND MAKE SURE IN THE SCRIPT YOU ADD THOSE... THOSE THINGS... THOSE RANDOM BITS OF TV TRIVIA OR FACTOIDS ABOUT EVERYDAY LIFE THAT COME UP IN NORMAL CONVERSATION... YOU KNOW... THOSE... THINGS..."

"Pop culture references?"

"YES!!! THAT'S IT! POP CULTURE REFERENCES!"

"Roy, I'm not going to try to be Kevin Smith."

"I DIDN'T SAY YOU WERE GOING TO BE LIKE KEVIN SMITH! YOU'RE GOING TO BE QUENTIN TARAN-FUCKIN'-TINO!!!"

"I was actually thinking about writing something really groundbreaking in the horror genre..."

"HORROR?! FUCK THAT! HOW WOULD WE PAY FOR THE FAKE BLOOD AND COSTUMES?!?!"

"...I mean, when's the last time you've seen a movie that's actually scared you? I really think there's a void out there for something like..."

"DUDE, SCENES WITH CAR RIDE CONVERSATIONS ABOUT NOTHING IS WHERE THE MONEY'S AT!!!"

And this is the main difference between me and Roy. I'm Mr. Do-it-crazy-and-fucked-up-or-don't-do-it-at-all, while Roy is only in it because the notoriety could give him his last opportunity to get laid before his mom flies back to India to find him an ugly but obedient wife.

I wrote a screenplay a couple years back, when I was first starting to become interested in the writing process. The script was called La Cosa Nostra, and it sucked donkey balls. It really did. Although the script I wrote was fun and humorous (I think), it was also juvenile, derivative, and incredibly amateurish. Every other line was a one-liner and every other scene was packed full of pop culture references. I'd have two hitmen who were driving to see their boss suddenly engage in an argument about who was cooler: Zack Morris or A.C. Slater. It makes me cringe even now.

Learning from my mistakes and feeling decidely more mature than I was two years ago, I said: "I promise the dialogue is gonna be sweet, so don't worry, but I'll be damned if any script of mine is going to have Vincent and Jules arguing about foot massages or what a Quarter Pounder With Cheese is called in France."

And Roy stood on the couch and screamed: "WE'RE NOT MAKING PULP FICTION! WE'RE MAKING PETE FICTION! IT'S GOING TO MAKE US SO RICH! DUDE, YOU SHOULD SO TOTALLY PUT THIS CONVERSATION IN OUR MOVIE TOO! THIS IS GOOD STUFF!"

"Stop yelling, Roy, calm down."

"AND, DUDE! WE'RE GOING TO BE BIGGER THAN THE WACHOWSKI BROTHERS! I'M GOING TO HAVE FIVE CARS! AND DUDE, THE BEST PART IS I'M GOING TO WALK DOWN THE RED CARPET WITH HILARY DUFF ON MY ARM, WELL, WHEN SHE TURNS LEGAL OF COURSE. I'M GOING TO BE SO FAMOUS, ASHTON KUTCHER WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO PUNK ME! AND, DUDE! WE'RE GOING TO WIN ALL THE OSCARS AND JUMP AROUND ON STAGE ALL GIDDY LIKE THOSE FAGGOTS THAT MADE GOOD WILL HUNTING. AND, DUDE! I'M GOING TO HAVE A PERSONAL TRAINER AND HAVE A SIX PACK..."

Roy's eyes glazed over and drool started to slip out of his mouth. "Roy," I said, tempted to slap him on the face. "Get a hold of yourself, man..."

"...AND THEN WHEN YOU GET THE MONEY, YOU GET THE POWER. THEN WHEN YOU GET THE POWER, THEN YOU GET THE WOMEN..."