The Screenwriter

Sal, the producer, said, “Okay, pitch me this new show, Lou. What you got?”

Lou said, “Sal, it’s a whole new deal. A new kind of cop show.”

“A new cop show. I’m listening.”

Lou said, “It’s about a guy, his wife left him, he’s down on his luck. He’s drinking. He lives in a lousy apartment, or a trailer, or a boat. His place is a mess. No friends. Drives a beat up old car, maybe a sixty-five mustang. Sometimes it doesn’t start and he has to hoof it.”

Sal said, “I like it. Gritty. Authentic. Go on.”

“Okay, Sal, get this. He’s a dirty cop. Sometimes he goes in without a warrant. Doesn’t read them their rights. Maybe he beats a confession out of one or two.”

Sal said, “Music to my ears, Lou.”

Lou said, “So he’s got something way in his past. Maybe he was in combat. A hero or a coward, damaged goods. Maybe his best buddy died in his arms in Baghdad. Maybe he was driving drunk and hit a baby carriage, I don’t know, just something that makes the brass send him to a shrink. But he doesn’t go to the shrink, he hates shrinks, or he goes and it’s a pretty shrink, she falls in love with him, see?”

Sal got excited. “Lou, Lou, Lou. Beautiful. So complex. I thought you were a hack, not a Hemingway.”

Lou said, “I know. It just came to me. Maybe I got a muse somewhere.”

Sal said, “Give me some episodes, some raw meat.”

“Okay, Sal, episode one: A stripper gets murdered. Our hero, let’s call him Max. Max has to go interview all the other strippers, see what they know. They’re all suspects. He questions them in the dressing room after the show. The strippers all smoke and talk dirty. They hate cops, except one cutie, who takes a shine to him. Maybe Max beats up a bouncer, I don’t know, it’s all in my head.”

“Lou, my mind is blown, who murdered the stripper?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some rich guy uptown. Some guy with a manicure who no one suspects.”

“Nice, nice. Now, hit me with episode two.”

Lou said, “In episode two, a rich old white guy murders his pool boy. Turns out the pool boy is screwing the rich guy’s wife. She’s an ex-model, hitting thirty, married for money, losing her lustre. Everyone knows the rich old white guy did it, but then, BAM, other pool boys start showing up dead all over town while the rich guy’s in the slammer. There’s a gay serial killer out there. Be on the lookout. All points bulletin.”

“Lou, this is your ticket. The boys upstairs are going to die. Now, give me a climax, a season finale, a real punch in the chops.”

“Hang on to your hat, Sal. Max gets shot. Right in the chest. Any other man would be dead before he hit the ground. But Max, he’s got a metal flask full of bourbon in his breast pocket. His father gave it to him. His father was a drunk too, and a cop. Max never got along with Pops, but now that he’s shot, he goes in a coma and sees his father and dad is proud. Chip off the old block, son. Attaboy. Max comes out of the coma a new man.”

Sal said, “Tears, Lou, I’m crying real tears here. But you have to throw me a bone, something modern. Toss in a female captain who busts his chops. Maybe she’s black or lesbian or something like that. Give me a cop, his partner, named Sanchez or Cortez. Kill him off mid-season if you have to. And that female shrink, the one who falls for Max, make her all smart, successful, liberated. We need one of those in every show.”

Lou said, “Sal, this is the best thing I ever did. This is my heart and soul.”

Sal said, “Lou, all that matters in this biz is originality. Trust me, this is it. I’ll have Susie fetch us some champagne. SUSIE!”