"And then I feel the audience's anticipation and nervousness when I get in the car real late at night, and they're all holding their breath, waiting to see if those two gloved hands come up from the back seat and strangle me, or slit my throat so I squirt blood all over the windshield. And if it doesn't happen? That's okay, too, 'cause it just means it was a foreshadowing shot, and it helps build up the tension and anxiety for a scene coming later in the movie, right? When the hands really do appear. 'Cause every scene in a good movie is there for a reason, right? And, you know, I want my life to be a good movie, like a real Oscar-winner, right?"
"Wow, Fitz," Matt nodding enthusiastically, suddenly looking around for a lit joint that wasn't even there – now where did that roach go? "I always knew you were smart, man, but...."
Fitz picked up his Schlitz, leaned way back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, put one hand behind his head, looked out the window at the rain, at all the leaves changing colors, and was just getting to feeling good and comfy when the chair broke to bits under him, sending him crashing ass-first to the floor.
