I am riding in the elevator with this big time movie executive.  He has his sleeves rolled up like he is ready to fight.  He smells like tuna fish and Vaseline (anyone’s guess).  I am scared.  But I know it’s my chance.  Because I have this idea.  Because it’s always been there.  Because we were all born to die, or something philosophical like that.  So I tell him:

“Hey, I know you’re famous but you have to hear me out.”
“What?”
“Just listen.  I have this idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s an idea for a movie.”
“And?”
“And in the movie there is this one girl who is allergic to fruits and vegetables.”
“And?”
“And she can’t follow any kind of healthy diet and has to live on candy.”
“And?”
“And, in the beginning of her life, all of the kids at school are jealous and tease her.  She always cries on the way home from school, but then one day she realizes she can give some of her candy away to make friends – standard supply and demand.  So she buys friends with sour brite crawlers and other kinds of consumables made out of high fructose corn syrup.  She deals them on playground, in the woods, away from teachers sight.  She gets invited to birthday parties.  She gets invited on other people’s family trips.  She loves this because she never gets to do any of these things because her parents operate a go-cart track on the outskirts of town.  Did I mention that?  About her parents?”
“No.”
“Well, yeah, so she’s like poor, but out of her keen dealing ways she wiggles through the social strata by dealing candy to her friends because she is allergic to fruits and vegetables. So, very early in her life, she forms extremely tight bonds with another social class.  While, in the beginning, these relationships are based on a material source, the other girls come around and realize that Judy, that’s the girls name, has real, human qualities to offer and that she isn’t some genetic freak who gets to eat all of the candy in the world because of a doctors note.”
“That sounds kind of interesting.”
“That’s what I’m saying, so, anyway, after the fifth grade graduation, we flash forward to one of the other girl’s weddings.  Judy is a bridesmaid.  We don’t know much about what has happened in the time since fifth grade, only that Judy is now successful, attractive and blind.  So, at the reception, Judy asks one of her friends to get her a plate of food.  Her friend comes back and gives her the plate.  Her friend, Samantha, has always subconsciously hated Judy because of her ability to overcome obstacles (this is implied by music).  We zoom in closely on the plate.  It’s a piece of quiche.  On the side, there are beets.  She is a little tipsy from all the champagne, and she mistakes the beets for chocolate wafers.  All the girls go to do the electric slide and, in the fourth stanza, Judy has an allergic reaction and dies on the dance floor.  Everyone is freaking out except for Samantha who is eating the rest of Judy’s beets.  She is dressed in red.  This shows us some element Samantha’s culpability.”
“What?”
“Just wait for it, dude.  So, we have a slow zoom out from the viewpoint of the chandelier above the dance floor.  We see Judy on the floor with her sunglasses on – remember she is blind.  We close with her father admitting kids for a birthday party at the go kart track.  Remember that go cart track?  So, basically, it’s a story about opportunity in adversity, jealously, regret, the inability to change, the ability to adapt, the chains of freedom, the pickaxe of paradox, the wisdom of not knowing, the murmurs of our beating hearts.”
“That is the worst thing I have ever heard in my entire life.”
“Fuck you.”

I push the emergency stop button.  I take his iPhone.  I punch him in his black turtleneck.  He arrives on the top floor, late to a meeting.  It’s a production company pitching their services.  They provide lunch.  Lamb.  Organic salad.  With beets.