John J. Vinacci

“They are going to love this pitch,” Brad said with his head pitched towards Maven.   “How could they not? Everyone is doing multiverse stories right now. But not quite like this,” Maven answered calmly.   Brad, for a moment, though that was odd. Maven hated pitch meetings since the pair’s ideas were usually rejected. On the other hand, they did have a really good idea for once. A few screenplays in hand, Brad opened the door for his writing partner and the pair entered the movie executive’s office.   The office in Hollywood Hills overlooked a large swath of L.A. The smog wasn’t too bad today, the sun almost shining through. Even Mr. Eichmann’s lackeys looked like they didn’t have their usual sticks up their asses today, though there was never hope for Mr. Eichmann himself. At least not yet.   “Alright you two. Knowing your record so for, unless you wow me right off the bat, this is going to be a quick meeting. What do you have?” The old man didn’t ev...

[Some context: There is some information in my unpublished autobiography that precedes the events recounted here, so I apologize for any lack of clarity in the beginning of this tale.] A true story... In the spring of 2001, if my age-addled brain recalls correctly, I started working for a gym in northern Tucson. I hadn’t been in a gym for a while and this was a big local chain so I was a little nervous at first. The income and hours were good, though, and I really enjoyed the personalities coming into the gym. My time was divided between working the front desk, floor training, making some sales, and providing massage therapy. These varied work experiences would have taken my mind off my desire for companionship at the time except for, you know, all the attractive women. Yet I felt like I owed something to my French ex-girlfriend and made an effort for us to get back together.   'Frenchy' believed me when I told her I never did anything more than kiss another woman while we...