Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.
Pitching, striking out & other depressing baseball metaphors (continued)
ME: (forced smile, sitting and gazing around the cavernous suite) Thanks!
VIP: Morty (my then manager – not his real name) tells me you’ve got some amazing ideas. Can’t wait to hear them! So psyched!
ME: Er, ehm, well just one amazing idea actually.
VIP: Awesome! Lay it on me! So psyched!
ME: Ehem, er, okay (reaching into back pocket and pulling out note-laden index cards).
VIP: Hey, you don’t need notes, Dan! Just talk to me! Like we were friends at a party! A really exclusive party with famous showbiz people that you would never be caught dead associating with in reality!
ME: Oh. Well, ehm, okay (reluctantly returning index cards to back pocket. Starting to flop-sweat). So there’s this young guy –
A cell phone rings on the ornately-etched glass and authentic Italian marble coffee table. The Very Important Player reaches over and picks it up.
VIP: Sorry, Dan, gotta grab this. (On phone) STEVEN SPIELBERG YOU OLD SONOFABITCH! HOW’S THE FUCKING SHARK? HEY, CAN’T TALK NOW. PITCH MEETING. CALL YOU RIGHT BACK? THANKS, BUDDY! (puts phone back on the coffee table) Sorry about that, Dan. Love your story so far! So psyched! Go on!
ME: (Blinking raging torrents of flop sweat out of eyes) Well, this young guy, he’s carrying the torch for his old high school crush who’s married to his best friend –
VIP: What’s his name?
ME: Who?