True Story©... Cheatfish

     Y’all remember back in the summer when I was desperate and fishing for anything that could make me some money while I was furloughed?
What about now?
     Okay, so Tuesday I am in the house minding my own damn business on my lunch break, chilling on the couch watching Judge Jerry when I get a Google Duo call from the studio exec whose brain I thought I was picking, but only now realize was giving him a little free entertainment while killing some time of my own.
Executive: “Hey buddy, how goes it?”
Me: “I’m the one who calls people ‘buddy’ around here.”
Executive: “Huh?”
Me: “It’s my thing…  MY dogs are buddy,  my nephews are buddy, random kids in stores are buddy, OTHER peoples dogs are budd--…”
Executive: “I gotcha.  How’s life?”
Me: “As normal as can be expected.”
Executive: “So you had some interesting ideas back in the spring, and I--…”
Me: “You’re calling to make me a rich man and tell me I am done with this damn company?”
Executive: “Not quite, not yet.  It isn’t that easy.”
Me: “Okay, so what do I owe the honor of this contact?”
Executive: “In trying to help you along, I wanted to see if you had other kinds of ideas.”
Me: “S’plain”
Executive: “Like your Better Traphouses and Bandos idea was…  kind… of… umm--…”
Me: “Hood shit?”
Executive: “Thank you.”
Me: “And you want to know how deep the well goes, can I dream up something more than just hood shit?”
Executive: “Right”
Me: “You could have just SAID that.”
Executive: “I didn’t want to, y’know…”
Me: “I’m fucking with you.  Of course I can.”
Executive: “You got something for me?”
Me: “Like now?”
Executive: “How much time you got?”
Me: “I’m about 20 minutes into a lunch hour seated 10 feet from the office.  I’m ready.”
Executive: “Okay, lay it on me.”
Me: “You heard of the show Cheaters, no?”
Executive: “Sure!”
Me: “And Catfish too, right?”
Executive: “Jesus, how the hell are people still falling for that shit?”
Me: “My wife says that every time we see an ad for the show.”
Executive: “So what you got?”
Me: “A hybrid of the two.”
Executive: “What the f--…”
Me: “Cheatfish!”
Executive: “You really think you can spell this out in about 40 minutes?”
Me: “If not, we’ll continue as necessary, but here goes…
So you have a couple that is doing fine and all and a trusted family friend with whom they conspire to get onto an episode of Cheaters under false pretenses.  They enlist the friend to be the jilted lover who is being cheated upon and set up surveillance on the married couple, who pretends to be having an illicit affair for the Cheaters cameras.”
Executive: “You are an evil fucking genius.”
Me: “Wait til you meet Moe Phillips.”
Executive: “Who?”
Me: “Later for that.
Anyway…  Joey Greco, or who the fuck ever is hosting Cheaters wraps up the investigation and convene the vans to the actually-married couple on a date night and converge on them with the cameras and security in tow.”
Executive: “Yeah, and then what?”
Me: “The couple greets their friend, who sits down at the table with them and instead of making an enormous scene, they’re just as palsy as they SHOULD be.  Basically, they’ve successfully Catfished Cheaters!  They REALLY yuck it up at the expense of the Cheaters cameras and having wasted their time and shit.”
Executive: “Is your middle name Lucifer?”
Me: “Heh, nope!”
Executive: “So how far do you think we could take this?”
Me: “Homie, this is a one-time special.  Like when Daffy Duck did the magic trick wherein he blew himself the fuck up and explained that he could only do it once on the way to hell.”
Executive: “So how do you propose we--…”
Me: “A streaming service!  Make a big ass hoopla out of it!”
Executive: “So we involve--…”
Me: “Viacom, naturally.  We watch Cheaters every Saturday morning and I can’t imagine MTV turning Catfish loose.”
Executive: “You’ve invested thought into this, haven’t you?”
Me: “Abso-damned-lutely!”
Executive: “Well look, I will let you get back to work, I know this call was unexpected.”
Me: “Yeah, and I need to walk these dogs real quick.”

     I swear, I am going to start fucking charging this man if he doesn’t lead his next phone call with an offer that makes me a rich man and professional writer.
I almost feel like I need to put him on to the Santa Story.


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