Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of someone who has connections in this town.

I’m sorry to bother you at this coffee shop, but I overheard you mention that you have an agent and I would really appreciate five minutes of your time.

I used to live in a castle in the sky, but I decided to move to Los Angeles so I can see some real stars, and I ain’t talking about astronomy. Just kidding. I came to the Left Coast to pursue my passion. You see, being a giant is just my day job. Crushing up children, baking them in bread, that’s all well and good, but my true passion is the cinema. I’m actually something of a screenwriter. That’s why I got a sick studio apartment in North Hollywood. It’s super cool; there’s always brews in the fridge and Quentin Tarantino movies playing on the TV.

Moving to LA has had its challenges. For instance, pretty much every time I’ve gone outside, people scream, “Ah! A giant! Somebody kill that monster!” and the police have tried unsuccessfully to force me into the La Brea Tar Pits. But that’s just La La Land for you. It’s a competitive town, and when people see a threat (like a hot new screenwriting talent that just happens to also be a giant) they try to neutralize it.

I have a couple things that I’m working on right now. I took a few classes over at Groundlings, but I did get some moderate to severe criticism that all my characters were just variations of giants. Football player who is also a giant, doctor who is also a giant, chef in a fancy restaurant who is also a giant, you get the idea. Luckily, constant disapproval hasn’t deterred me in the slightest.

I’m also working on some stand-up right now. I have 5 minutes that will rock your jock about how living in Los Angeles is different from living in a castle in the clouds. (I do this fantastic bit where I demonstrate how people in LA walk, and then I contrast that with the way giants in the clouds walk. It always crushes.) You should come to one of my open mics sometime. They’re a great place to get some unemployed men’s opinions on #MeToo.

But the thing I’m most excited about currently is my Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt spec. It’s called, “Kimmy Meets a Giant!” and it’s about foolish Kimmy Schmidt climbing up a beanstalk to a giant’s house. Here’s the thing though: the giant was just minding his own business and he’s actually a really cool guy. Kimmy tries to take advantage of him, however, by attempting to steal the gold he was saving to put towards a deposit on a North Hollywood apartment. After Kimmy says one of her classic Kimmy-isms (“I feel like I’m Polly Pocket-sized, and you’re me-sized!”), the giant kills her in self-defense. Meanwhile, Titus and Lillian organize a protest outside a thrift store after the store refuses to buy Titus’ clothes.

I know it’s kind of a gamble to kill off the protagonist of the show you’re writing a spec for, but I think this is going to pay off pretty well, since it serves the story. And I know story. You’re talking to the guy who read a few passages from Aristotle’s Poetics, but also read the Wikipedia summary several times. I’ve also absorbed a lot about storytelling through playing Aaron Sorkin interviews while I sleep in hopes that my unconscious brain will retain the knowledge.

I don’t want to give you too much information due to the statute of limitations not yet being met, but the script is something of a personal story for me. Do I consider myself a murderer? Of course not. Am I technically responsible for the death of a human man who climbed up a beanstalk and sought to steal my gold? I mean, I guess so, but this is Hollyweird, baby. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. (Like, even Meryl Streep has starred in a few stinkers, which is probably just as bad as what I did, you know?)

Even if this whole “murder trial” which I am currently in the midst of goes south, I think this is going to be a big year for me. Hustle beats talent when talent doesn’t hustle, even if hustle has killed a man.

Anyway, here’s the script. I always keep a copy on hand, for circumstances such as this. I know 147 pages isn’t the standard length for a half hour comedy, but I promise it is 147 pages of pure gold.

I’m looking forward to hearing what you think.


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