This writer’s challenge sucks. Your scores have been on a real downslide the past few weeks; okay Numbnutso The Magnificent, what magic are you going to pull out of your hat this week?
Thanks. Thanks a lot. Why are you blaming me? YOU are supposed to be my muse, aren’t you? Nothing to turn in this week, I guess.
No you don’t – don’t turn this around on ME! Your scores aren’t helped by your screwing up the formatting, writing like you’re Roget’s worst enemy, confusing the judges with bewildering constructs, and cloaking my outstanding concepts in a mantle of non-grammatical turpitude. Haven’t I given you a something wonderful to work with every week? Haven’t I??
“Wonderful” is a stretch. So, you’ve already had a couple days to ruminate on this one – what have you got?
How about a 4-year old girl as the interrogator, and she repeatedly asks her father, “Why?” to everything he says?
What?! How many weeks are you going to continue to lose Beau before we’re finally voted out?
Ha ha. Well then, how about Data interrogating Deanna Troi about living as a human – he can begin each line with “Inquiry?” Throw in all the classic STtNG clichés, like Picard being French and always surrendering, the weekly holodeck incident, Riker hitting on every female (or questionably female) alien, or Geordi never getting the girl (sorry, Dr. Leah Brahms as a gal pal could NEVER have happened – that’s why it’s called “fiction”). Could you work with that without butchering it?
Well, that’s right in my wheelhouse. I COULD, if it was a good idea. It’s not.
I’m just getting warmed up; I’ve got a million of ‘em. How about if the interrogator was a psychiatrist? He could grill his patient about sexual repression, Munchausen syndrome, Oedipus complex, use a little hypnosis, oh — and be sure to mention “diagnosis must precede treatment” somewhere in there. That could be killer, right?
But what would be the reveal at the end? No, sorry, I’d be in over my head with that one.
It’s always something with you, isn’t it? Okay, how about someone submitting a book idea – no, wait, a movie script (Spooky would like that!) and the interrogator is the prospective producer. He gets grilled about various aspects of his screenplay, and eventually the producer ultimately passes because there is no catchy twist at the end of the storyline. That has promise, doesn’t it?
Boy, I’d have to really get the details right, and I don’t know the industry well enough to do that. Besides, what’s the big deal with this idea? What’s the reveal at the end?
It’s M. Night Shyamalan. Get it?
Ha ha. Lame.
Listen bucko, I don’t need to take any more of this. How well do you think you can do on your own?
Well, if you had been paying attention, you’d have noticed that I’ve been writing down this entire exchange. Who needs you? Go away ‘til week.
Wait, what?! Oh, snap!