My Electrifying Origin Story

This is Angry Tablecloth, because Melancholy Picnic Blanket does not have the same ring.  While I have many insights to offer on a broad spectrum of subjects, today I wanted to share a few key moments from the past, that have brought me here.  Like my mother always said, “Share a bit about your life with others.  Nobody wants to hear the dogmatic ramblings of an asshole they do not know.  And throw some characters and dialogue in there.  Anything that isn’t you is better.  You are the biggest mistake of my life, and I have never loved you.”  This may very well be my first blog, but it is not my first endeavor into the world of professional writing.  Fine, so this isn’t an endeavor into professional writing, and I still do not like the word, blog.  That aside, the following is a transcript from a meeting I had with a few bigwig, TV execs, a while back.  I was there pitching an idea for a show.  I try to record all of my conversations throughout the day, because I can never be too careful, and because of all the pending civil suits and assault charges.  More for the second reason.

Me: Me.

Everyone else:  Bunch of unimaginative, corporate hacks.

Place of meeting:  Undisclosed, pending hearing.

Nature of meeting:  Idea pitch.

Me:  I want to start an edgy kid’s show called, The Angry Tablecloth & Happy Sewing Needle Show.  It’ll feature a table with a tablecloth on it, and a sewing needle, who are detectives.  It’s hilarious!  Kids aren’t supposed to play with needles!  They’ll teach kids knitting, and basket weaving, and how to solve crimes involving ghosts, and shit.  The sewing needle will always be pissed off, trying to stab Angry Tablecloth, who is also pissed off all of the time.  Figure, maybe, the tablecloth will be psychic, or have some powers, or some shit.  You know, I always pictured the tablecloth with a table under it, and it was the table that was alive, but would it work better if it were just a tablecloth?  Maybe the thing could fly, using its psychic abilities.  Maybe the table and the cloth could both be separate personalities.  No, no, it’ll disrupt the whole dynamic of the show.  They’re meant to be a duo.  Maybe the table and the tablecloth are fused as one, because it is a strange creature from another world, as opposed to an inanimate object come to life.  The cloth on the table could be seen as a shell, or a mane of sorts, or perhaps it is a symbiotic relationship, and they are two conscious entities fused as one, and it talks with a crazy, electric guitar voice in multiple chords, always screaming about its cosmic powers.  But the sewing needle is just a goddamned sewing needle that one day became conscious, somehow, but he still screws around with Angry Tablecloth, regardless of his supernatural powers.  Figure it’ll have an eleven and a half minute run time, and each episode will start with our protagonists arriving at a crime scene, where they are given the grizzly details of what has transpired, for the first eleven minutes.  Well, those are the broad strokes.  Figure we can start focus testing a more concrete vision in a few weeks.  This is so exciting!

Everyone else:  (Looks that could be interpreted as distress and confusion are clearly written on everyone’s faces, but are clearly wide-eyed, mouth gaping expressions of fervor.  A senior executive starts to speak.)  Are you feeling alright?  How would they teach knitting in this situation?  How is this for children?  This half baked nonsense will never…

Me:  (Hold my hand up to silence the crowd, before they can comment further.)  Hold on a moment, chief.  Figure I might as well pitch a few other ideas while I’m here.  Give me a moment… these are just off the top of my head.  A turkey and an oven fight crime in India.  They fell in love one fateful day, when the turkey was about to be served for Thanksgiving.  The oven couldn’t bear the thought of being an instrument for something so horrible, and so they murdered the family, before fleeing to India, or California, or somewhere else where they don’t eat turkey, or celebrate good ol’ American values.  Kind of weird how the oven did not mind cooking other animals… but that is, because he had never seen a turkey so beautiful, or had finally had enough, or something.  Don’t want him to come across like a monster.  The turkey was owned by farmers who planned to chop his head off that day, because a plucked, headless bird walking around with an oven would not look right.  Okay, not so great, but how about this… a rat and a chocolate sundae… no… a rock and a boulder fall in love one day while donating blood… no, a river and a parakeet… no, a square dancing pirate and a soccer mom fall in love… under the ocean… I mean in the ocean… no, under it, which would be the mantle?  The rigid crust, outer mantle, it’s not important.  I don’t know how they survive.  Again, it’s not important.  Yeah, so the entire show would be pitch black, and rely purely on dialogue, and together they solve crimes.  Ground breaking!  Literally and figuratively.  Ha!  You assholes should be laughing, now!  Laugh, now.  I mean it.  Start laughing!

One of the vision lacking, incompetent execs:  (Stands up to stop me from speaking further.)

Me:  No!  I’m not finished!  You give me a goddamned minute!  No!  You are going to sit there, and listen!  Shut up, and listen!  Shut up, and listen, goddamn you!  No!  This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, so you are going to sit there, and hear me out!  If I have to forcibly tie you to your friggin’ chairs, I will!

The same jerk-ass exec, who obviously got her job due to nepotism:  (Sits back down.)

A different jerk:  (Hastily grabs and dials his phone)

Me:  (Exhilarated by the rush of inspiration coursing through me, everything fades into the background, as I continue to speak.)  Alright, so there’s these detectives who solve crimes in Germany, but they are planets… or on the sun, yeah, the sun.  Turns out the sun is haunted, and every week the planets have to find out who did it.  But these aren’t just any planets.  Planet E12008482LX and Planet E156 are our heroes.  They’ll become everybody’s two favorite heavenly bodies.  Fuck Jupiter and Mercury the kids’ll say!  Planet E156 will find a way to accidentally get high or drunk once or twice a season, like in situations where the naive, straight edged character does in shows, but it has no effect, because its atmosphere is largely comprised of hydrogen, and it rains sulfuric acid.  So there you have it, ladies, and gentlemen.  I think this meet n’ greet was a success.  Is it hot in here?  Are you sweating?  Why is the room spinning?  We’ll be in touch.  Ciao.

Security guard:  Alright, sir, come with us.

Me:  (Still feeling the rush.)  You think that stun gun can take me down?!  I’m bursting with electricity, right now!  Try it!  I dare you!

(End of meeting.)

A lot of bridges have been burned throughout my ventures in professional writing, and none of them my fault!  It’s all those jackasses, too blind to see my vision that are always sparking the matches.  I don’t need them!  I don’t need anyone!  Except you, my sweet, loveable reader, unless you are also a contemptuous jerk.  If that’s the case, then the hell with you!  No!  Wait!  Don’t go!  I don’t care why you are here!  Please read on.  I’m just so lonely.  I just want to connect to something that does not meow or bark.  You want me to tell more jokes?  You got it.  Want to hear more stories?  You got it.  You want naked pictures of my grandmother?  Before, or after she died?  Either way, you got it.  Just don’t leave me!  Anyways, here is another transcript from another meeting.  Read it, or don’t… I give up…

Me: The hero.

TV executive: The villain.

Place of meeting: One of a million television office headquarters, where good ideas apparently go to die. 

Nature of meeting: Idea pitch.

Me:  I want to thank you for this opportunity.  I know rumors have been circling about my past conduct, and I assure you they are nothing more than slanderous attacks on my character.  My ideas challenge the norm, and make nearly everything else out there appear stale, and predictable in comparison.  They attack me, because they feel threatened.  Your network, however, has been putting out ground breaking shows, one after another , and I am sure that together we can continue this tradition, which will undoubtedly be as profitable as it will be enriching to the lives of the audience, craving the kind of originality I am here to provide.

TV executive:  Well, we are excited to hear what you have…

Me:  No!  I’m not finished!  You give me a goddamned minute!  No!  You are going to sit there, and listen!  Shut up, and listen!  Shut up, and listen, goddamn you!  No!  This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, so you are going to sit there, and hear me out!  If I have to forcibly tie you to your friggin’ chairs, I will!  You again?

Security guard:  Oh, God.  I quit my last job, and moved my family across the country, because I was sure you were going to come back and torch the place, or something worse!  I still have nightmares of that day!

Me:  Didn’t you know?  Some dreams come true, like the one I had last night where I was kicking your ass!  A stun gun, I see, how original.  Aaahheeooowww!  Jesus!  That’s a higher… voltage… than I’m used to!!

(End of meeting.)

It has not been an easy journey, but it has been well worth it.  This is the final transcript from the final meeting I had, with another television station.

Place of meeting: It’s hazy.

Nature of meeting: Idea pitch.

Me:  We all know television is mostly garbage, now.  The decent shows out there only exist to keep alternative branches of entertainment at bay, because if it were all crap, a large demographic might start reading, or jogging, and that might have a bad influence on the rest.  You dicks just want to make money.  To you, TV’s just an instrument designed to melt away the minds, ambitions, and esteem of viewers, so they’ll buy the garbage you advertise.  Why fight it?  Anything I do not understand after two seconds of consideration makes me angry, and afraid, and wanting to break things.  This is why my show will feature a dead rodent in a hamster wheel, while an attractive model stands in the background, holding up a sign that says, “This sign will never change.”  And every week audiences will tune in just to feel assured, when they see it hasn’t changed.  That’s not too mentally pressing, is it?  Oh, and when I say, “attractive,” I mean by the standards you soulless monkeys keep pushing on the general public, to again, make them insecure enough to buy the products you advertise.  It’ll be a hit!

Security guard:  Sir, this is private property.  You must vacate the premises, immediately.

Me:  I know that voice.  It’s you!

Security guard:  Dear, merciful lord.  Have you been following me?!  What sort of people do you know?!  How did you find me?!  Leave me and my family alone!  I’m just doing my job, trying to live my life, one day at a time.  It’s not personal!

Me:  I told you, I was going to fulfill that dream.

Security guard:  This is a gated community, and you are trespassing!  I do not know why you are here, talking to yourself, but the authorities have been alerted.

Me:  Piss off!  I’m done with this!  I’m going to start a blog on the internet, using the name Angry Tablecloth!  And assholes will flock to it, and recognize my genius!  And I will make so much money selling t-shirts with stupid tables on it!  And I’ll buy this network!  The internet, where standards still count for something!  Oh, God!  That… is… painful!

Security guard:  I modified this Taser!  If I’m lucky, it’ll kill you!

Me:  I’m recording… all of… this!

Security guard:  Can I get a copy?  It would really help with the restraining order.

(End of Meeting)

And from the ashes of my twitching, electrified body on what was apparently the lawn of a private household, the phoenix arose, and I began anew, right here.  I did not mean to say, “Assholes will flock to it,” in such a harsh manner, but I was rather emotional at the time.  Everything truly did turn out for the best.  I finally got that security guard.  Turned out he couldn’t handle the voltage as well as I did.  Guess I was the lucky one.  It takes about a half a dozen times to start building up an effective resistance.  I’d say more, but the manslaughter charge, and all… you understand.

I’m available for freelance work.

Cheers.

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