This week’s writing prompt!

A film producer, ice cream, “It’s your fault”

Dave tossed the bound papers back across the table. The light breeze ruffling them slightly. Held together by only a staple they threatened to go off the table entirely.

“It’s garbage,” he said with at growl. “Absolute garbage.” Dave was the biggest agent in Hollywood these days and he was not risking his reputation on this lousy script. The young man in front of him looked crushed. His beard was artfully unkempt and his plaid shirt made him blend into the crowd of other young people around them. Much like his script would never stand out to an agent in this town. He had already forgotten the man’s name, come tho think of it.

“What do you mean?” the man asked, scooping up the papers and holding them to him like he might an injured child. Dave had seen it so many times.

“But it has everything,” the young man insisted. Was his name Bill? Maybe Trevor? Dave could not remember at all. “It has magic, and demons, and death!” He enthused. “There is a kidnapping and monsters!”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Dave waved his hand dismissively. This happened all the time. He sat down to have a nice quiet coffee and read the damn paper and some hipster with an unimaginative script would throw themselves at him. He straightened his tie. “Look, kid,” he said. “I am not wholly unsympathetic, but the script is trash and you need to start over. Maybe something with some romance? A Hallmark movie or something. People love those. No one wants to see,” he gestured to the stack of papers still clutched tightly to the man’s chest. “Magic and other bull shit.”

It really looked like the man might actually cry. Dave hoped not. He did not have the patience for that drama again today.

“Go to a class, maybe a workshop?” Dave suggested. He knew it would not help, the man was devoid of creativity . That he was certain of, but he wanted to avoid a scene. “Try again later.”

Dave’s coffee arrived and he decided he was done with this. He took a sip and opened his paper. Dismissing the man.

“You will regret not taking the chance on this one,” The man said, voice quavering slightly. “When this becomes a block buster, it will be your own fault that you passed it by.” He stood up and tried to look dignified, not like a 22 year old man trying not to cry because someone had finally told him his story was worthless. He waved a dismissive hand at him. He did not care what he had to say, he just wanted his coffee and paper before he had to go back to work.

Trevor or whoever he was waited a moment for a reply to his grand statement, realized he was not getting one, spun on his heel and stormed off, barely missing the little girl with the braids eating her ice cream cone at the next table. Her father shouted after him, but he continued his not run away from his humiliation without looking back.

Dave turned to the sports page.