"I'm listening," said Hap.
"First off let's dump the sex and slaughter scene involving kitchen appliances. That's nonnegotiable."
"Awwww!" said Hap. "I liked that scene."
"Poor Wilma read it and now can't bring herself to turn on her kitchen blender. The world is
not ready for such a scene. There are also continuity issues as it doesn't really fit with much else in
the story."
"Suppose…," said Hap.
"But you have these slasher demons that rise from the depths – this hell dimension – to kill
randomly, mostly pretty girls. Let's keep that as one element."
"Still listening," said Hap.
"Have you heard of a music festival called Balaton Sound?"
"Can't say that I have," said Hap, surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Where is
Balaton Sound?"
"It's in Hungary," said Will. "There's a lake South West of Budapest called Lake Balaton. I
only know this because I looked it up after seeing clips on YouTube. Basically, it's big and loud
and features water activities – a swimming pool, people messing around in the lake, pretty girls
dancing with hunky, bare-chested guys. All meat for these slasher demons."
"Okay, you think the massacre should be staged at this festival?"
"The festival itself isn't important. I just mention it as a starting point. You can saw off
something like that, with its unbelievable crowds, entertainments, and even carnival attractions,
push it into the distant future and stick it on top of some ruins. Then it becomes a New World Party
Town."
"Party town?"
"Sure, in the far future, after we've been through wars, diseases and environmental
degradation and whatever, humanity has reached this good place where they can send their young
people to these party towns for a break from the grim reality of rebuilding the world - a sort of
annual ritual where they can dance and frolic semi-naked in water."
"I'm feeling this more," said Hap.
"The trouble is that these wars and troubles have also generated monsters – formerly
humans that have somehow mutated into hostile slashing machines. No one has seen them for some
time and it's assumed that they are all dead. Party Town has been put on top of an old war ruin
because it still has facilities which can be adapted for the fun and frolicking. Access to the underlayers has been sealed off but, well, these demons find a way in and start taking out party goers.
Your heroes – the security team maybe – then find the bodies gruesomely dismembered, but those
running the place don't believe that it's these demons and so on. It then has elements of a future
Jaws out of water."
"Sounds good, man," said a student type seated a little down from them getting up to leave.
"Hope it gets up."
"Oh, thanks," said Will.
"Some of my scenes are part of this?" said Hap.
"Incorporated into the plot – you don't have much of a plot in your script."
The entrepreneur was silent for a moment.
"You think I should rewrite with that basic idea? It's your idea."
"I have too many ideas," said Will. "I can give one away and it's Hollywood, scripts are
rewritten all the time."
"What chance would the script have then?"
"I wouldn't lie to you – still very little," said Will. "There are a billion scripts out there and
a lot of hard-driving people pushing their ideas. I'm not very competitive, so it's not the scene for
me. I prefer to write military SF novels and have the occasional fan show appreciation. Can't ask
for more."
"Hmmm!' said Hap. He took another bite of his hamburger. "Buck said something about
making it myself. How much would that cost?"
"When a fellow banker once asked J.P. Morgan how much it cost to own a yacht, he replied
that 'if you have to ask you can't afford it'. A few million at least for anything halfway decent, and
it's got to be money you're happy to lose. Lots of films don't make back their production costs.
Maybe you can get it into late night sessions at fringe movie theatres, to see what audiences make
of it. One of the streaming services desperate for content might pick it up at a cut rate if it's not too
bad. I've seen weirder stuff on those things."
"A few million you say?"
"At least – depending on what you want to do, what sort of actors you want to hire and so
on. You won't get anyone like Clarise Chalmers for that money but there are plenty of wannabes
around."
"Crowd scenes are expensive, aren't they?" said Hap.
"Computer graphics does wonders. Use blue or black back drops, or whatever it is they use,
for everything and add the backgrounds later, like they did for the Sin City movies. You still gotta
have actors and a film crew but with CGI you can set it anywhere. If you want to talk about it
further I sort of know a director, an Evan Zagame, who's in this area. He's been involved in exactly
one film for fringe markets."
"Which film?"
"Zombie Nazis in LA."
"It was okay," said Hap. "But cheap. Effects were stupid. How do you know this guy?"
"I was on the fringe of the film industry here for a time through a girl friend who dumped
me. We got to talking at a party." All of the people Will knew in LA had been through Violet and
he had not tried to contact any of them since she had left, but he thought he could find the wanna-be
director. "He's never had any money to make a film. Common problem with film makers."
"What's the next step?"
"Get the script into shape and show it to him, but as I said he's got absolutely no money to
make anything. You have to pay him. However, that means you have control of the project. Be firm
on the story."
"You know, Jason Hap film producer has a certain ring to it," said Hap, taking another bite
from his hamburger. "And it sounds like way more fun than producing software development tools.
Maybe I'll take the next step, but I've got to tie up other stuff. Do you want to do this script
rewrite?"
"Hap, I'd do it but not for free," said Will. "It's your project and a slasher zombie film is not
how I see myself as a writer."
"Fair enough," said Hap. "I can pay out some, maybe a few thousand."
"Okay, ten thousand."
"Five," said Hap, straight away.
Will sighed. He should have made his first bid fifteen. Too late now. "Well, seven and a half
then, and that's dirt cheap for a script."
"Done – and I want this director to call me."
"No problem but half my fee up front, Mr Producer, before I start writing."
"You don't trust me, Will?" said Hap, smiling.
"It's Hollywood, Hap. No one trusts anyone. Anyway, I'm broke."
As Will and Hap talked, Clarise and Mia were being driven in a chauffeured, stretch
limousine to the producer's party.
"Will seemed nice," said Mia.
"I was surprised," said Clarise. "I mean he not my type at all, but I was interested in what he
had to say."
"Not Latino?"
"Rich, successful, drop dead gorgeous will do," said Clarise. "Will's cute but he's not in
Robin's class."
"He's tall and he had you laughing."
"He was diverting and interesting, like I said, but I need my men to be impressive, and Will
isn't that. How did it go with you and that billionaire."
"Nah," said Mia. "He's okay but no sparks, even if he is mega-rich. We talked about the
film industry."
The arrived at the party which was staked out by plenty of photographers and even reporters.
It seemed that a Hollywood star could not even attend a party without being asked for comment.
The reporters started calling out the moment Clarise-Meghan stepped out of her limousine.
"Ms Chalmers, Connie Leighton is asking what you've been doing for the environment,"
said one such down at heel reporter from behind the ring of security guards. Instead of just ignoring
the question as she had previously done, Clarise chose to walk up to the reporter.
"Well, what has Leighton done for the environment except tell other people that they should
cut emissions while flying around on a fancy jet?" she said. The shouted questions stopped. The
reporter's colleagues were busy scribbling in notebooks or had recording devices out.
"If Leighton wants to cut emissions maybe she could trade her jet in for a bicycle."
"Do you think emissions are a problem," said the reporter quickly.
"Emissions are a complex problem and government should do more, and that's all Leighton
is saying. Thankyou."
Clarise walked away ignoring the other, shouted questions.