As long time watchers may know, I used to have a series where I just sort of threw whatever I wanted at the wall and saw what stuck called Pitches. I had a little meta-wraparound story involving a fictionalized version of myself and a ‘TV Producer’. It was fun stuff.
Anyways, several years removed from being that person, and I don’t really have much interest in just throwing random ideas out. Unfortunately, I’ve found comfort in having a bit more structure to my stories. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the odd one off, I just don’t really have the heart to put full effort into three stories at once.
The wraparound section, funnily enough, is mostly intact, it’s just the three ideas aren’t as fleshed out, so enjoy! Maybe someone else can finish these pitches one day…
Pitch 4 Glutton for Punishment
Can only reattach when eating parts, when multiple people eat a part, a person who ate the most gains part, additional parts can go wherever
Pitch 5 He likes short girls
Doctor from first pitch -> Removes elbows, knees, and stomach
Pitch 6 Of the Earth
Explorer finds tribe of cave people who explain humans are literally made out of clay, but the sun hardens them so by living in cave, they are able to morph and stuff.
The hustle and bustle of the busy cafe was not where Jim had wanted to spend his lunch break, but it was the only place that this Michael character had agreed to meet up. He continued to scan the crowd as his waiter came around with his sandwich and a pitcher of coffee.
“You waiting for someone sweetie?” she asked as she poured him his third cup of coffee of the day.
“Yeah, but it's strictly for business,” Jim said.
“Well, okay then… if you need anything else, feel free to holler and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Jim said, pulling out his phone once again and checking the time.
“She seems like a nice lady,” a voice said from the seat across from Jim, shocking him away from his phone. Michael, wearing the same outfit he wore when they first met, was now sitting in the seat across from him, a partially eaten sandwich and half-empty coffee laying on his side of the table.
“W-when did you get here?” Jim asked, completely thrown off from how he was going to approach this meeting.
“Oh, relative to you I just got here, but for me I’ve been sitting here for about a half hour, just people watching.”
Jim, now even more self conscious at the thought of this strange man spending a half hour watching him squirm, did his best to jump back into serious mode, “Well, let’s just get this over with. You seem to already know what I want, and I know what you want.”
“Oh really now?” Michael said, his eyebrows raising, “And what exactly do you think I want?”
“Please,” Jim said, “don’t patronize me like that. You and I both know that the only reason you’re doing this is so that you can get one of your stories to be made into a movie. Probably in some vain hope of fame or wealth off of them.”
“Interesting… Well, it doesn’t matter why you think I’m doing this, but if you’re so insistent that we get started, I suppose we shouldn’t waste any more of your precious time,” reaching into his pocket, Michael pulled out what appeared to be a digital chess timer with two displays side-by-side that each read 15:00. Placing it on the table between them, Michael hit the button to start the timer, causing the display closest him to start counting down and began his first tale…
Pitch 4: Glutton for Punishment (Semi-vore warning)
“Hey Honey! Guess what I got?” Peter asked his girlfriend, Sasha, as she came in through the front door of their apartment.
“What? Another new type of soil to help with your garden?” Sasha chuckled, haphazardly throwing her jacket into the living room as she made her way to the kitchen.
“No. Gardening was so last week. The cool new thing to be into is cooking, and with this bad boy I’ll be the trendiest person in our whole circle of friends,” he said, brandishing a large knife with a fancy wooden handle. Emblazoned upon the hilt was the word ‘Gluttony’ in solid gold lettering.
“But you don't know anything about how to cook,” Sasha pointed out.
“That’s where this bad boy comes in. This is the famous ‘Glutton’s knife’. A kitchen knife so powerful in its sinful nature, that all food cooked with it becomes delicacies, regardless of the wielder’s skill level.”
“Sounds like a load of bull, but if it means that you’re going to be making dinner tonight, then I’m all for it,” Sasha said, giving Peter a hug and a quick peck before heading back to the living room and turning on the TV.
Peter laid out a variety of ingredients out onto the kitchen counter, hoping that the ingredients would give him some inspiration on what to cook. Despite holding the knife, he still was having trouble on picking what to cook. “Well… looks like the rumors were just lies. Guess I’ll make something easy, like Salad.”
Grabbing the head of lettuce, Peter began pulling the leaves off and placing them in a large salad bowl. Once that was done, he place a rather large tomato onto his cutting board and began carefully cutting it with the Glutton’s knife. Once he had some evenly sliced cuts, he put them into the salad bowl. Next, in went some carrots, some croutons, some peas, all without incident. It wasn’t until he was cutting up some mushrooms that something strange happened.
As he was cutting the final mushroom, Sasha called out, “Peter! Come in here!”, causing him to look up from his slicing. Without his knowledge, the blade sliced through the third knuckle on his middle finger, leaving it covered it skin and causing the bit of finger and nail to fall into the salad as he dumped the contents of the cutting board into the salad bowl as he walked into the living room.
“What? I’m very busy with dinner,” Peter complained.
“Look at how much weight this girl lost from going to this plastic surgery place! She looks amazing!” The commercial on TV seemed to be a cheesy informercial, with the girl in question having lost nearly 125 pounds from a single surgery.
“Well, once I’m better at cooking, I’ll make sure to make healthier food so you can lose weight the old fashioned way. Now, let me get back to dinner, I just had some inspiration,” Peter said, walking confidently back to the kitchen, knife in hand.
It had popped into Peter’s mind while watching the TV. He knew his salad was still missing something, and that thing was protein. He opened his fridge, scanning the contents for a suitable protein, eventually pulling out some chicken breast. ‘Well, maybe this will work?’ he thought, seasoning the chicken, throwing the breast into a pan, and cooking it to a nice tan color. Ensuring that it was thoroughly cooked, he chopped it into bits and tasted one of the bits.
‘Well… it’s not quite the taste that would work, but I don’t know what that taste would be,’ He thought, as he dumped the rest of the chicken into the salad. What little spark of inspiration he had was gone now, so he called Sasha into the kitchen as he tossed the salad and split the salad onto two plates.
“*Mmm* This salad is really good!” Sasha said, her mouth half full with lettuce.
“Well… I don’t know…” Peter had barely dug in to his Salad.
“You don’t like it? This is the best thing I’ve ever seen you cook.”
“It’s just that… I think it could use something more, but I just don’t know what.”
“Whatever you say, I think it’s fantastic,” Sasha said, grabbing another forkful of salad and stuffing it in her mouth. However, she stopped chewing as soon as something crunched between her teeth. “Huh?” She said, grabbing her napkin and spitting the bite of salad out onto it. Looking at the contents of food on the napkin, she screamed, “Aaaah!” flinging the napkin into the center of the table, where the offending thing rolled off the napkin.
Now lying in the center of the table was the missing bit of finger from Peter’s finger. No blood was pouring from it, but the bit of finger was clearly crushed and the nail was broken in half. “What the hell!” Sasha was shouting.
Peter, ever curious, reached out and grabbed the bit of finger and put it in his mouth. Chewing a bit more, he was overwhelmed by the flavors and crunch offered by the piece. “That’s it!” Peter said aloud, “That’s the flavors that I was missing!”
“Peter! What the hell was that? Was that some sort of prank?”
“Shut up Sasha! I- I have to go cook. Sorry, inspiration has struck.” Peter said, the bit of his middle finger that had been missing completely grown back. He quickly got out of his chair and headed back into the kitchen.
Almost immediately, Peter knew what he had to do. He placed his left hand onto the cutting board, and taking the Glutton’s knife in his right, cut it off right at the wrist. Once again, both ends of the cut ended in skin. Grabbing a pot, he quickly filled it with water and placed it on his stove. Getting back to his hand, he cut off all the fingers and threw them in the pot, quickly covering it with a lid. He then proceeded to cut the palm up finely, resulting in a rather mushy mass of flesh, and getting out his Foreman grill, placed the patty-shaped mass under the grill.
Sasha was worried about Peter as she waited nervously for whatever Peter was cooking up. She was pretty sure she had just chewed up a bit of a finger, but she couldn’t be certain, especially how Peter seemed to be reacting rather the opposite as he would if it was a bit of a human. To be honest, it had mostly been the initial crunch that had freaked her out, the thing tasted pretty amazing otherwise.
~~~~~~
*Click*
Michael hit his button on the chess timer, causing the ticking down display to freeze at 10:00 and the display closest to Jim to begin counting down.
“Wait, why do I have a timer?” Jim asked
“Because Jim, this is supposed to be a dialogue. It would be rather impolite of me to hog all of the conversation,” Michael responded.
“Wasn’t the point of all this so you could pitch your ridiculous stories to me?”
“If that was the only reason don’t you think I could have simply forced you to sign off on one of my stories?”
“Well…”
“No, Jim. I asked you here because I wanted what all good story tellers want”
“What?”
“Someone to listen,” Michael said, picking up his cup and finishing off his coffee. Jim stared at him as Micheal waved over their waitress, “Hey Deborah, could I get some more coffee please?”
“Sure thing Michael. I’m afraid I’m all out, but I’ll go brew up another pot just for you,” The waitress said, grabbing his coffee cup.
“Wait, you know him,” Jim asked the waitress.
“Of course, Michael’s a regular here,” Deborah said, walking away to brew Michael some more coffee.
“Anyways Jim. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“…Fine.”
“Why did you come here?”
Jim stared at him for a moment. “Well, isn’t it obvious.”
“It appears it’s only obvious to you.”
“I came in because you said if I did you would fix Stacy.”
“That is true, but why do you want to fix your secretary?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well. My stories are rather forgiving in that reality tends to change for the people involved. To Stacy and everyone else besides you and me, Stacy has always been this way. Not to mention that the changes that I’ve made to her would make her much easier to control and overall a better worker.”
“Well… It’s because… u-um,” Jim stammered, “I guess it’s because… it’s not… normal?”
“Yes. I suppose it’s not normal. But then again, why would you want to be normal?”
“Well… um…” Jim was speechless, trying to come up with a response, before suddenly delivering a stern response, “just continue with your dumb stories so I can get back to work,” Jim hit his button, freezing his timer and starting up Michael’s once again.
“Very well,” Michael said, getting back to his story just as Deborah delivered his new cup of coffee (and an entire filled pot) to the table.
Pitch 5: He Likes Short Girls
Beth was staring at Trevor for the fifth time that class. As usual, no-one else in the class noticed, except for Beth’s best friend Trina, who promptly kicked her once again to try and get her to pay attention to the conversation that they were having over text while the lecturer continued on.
TrinaTime: So, why don’t you just ask him out already?
BestBethany: You know that I can’t. Trevor only likes to go out with short girls and I’m 6’2’’.
TrinaTime: That’s just because he hasn’t gone out with someone tall yet.
BestBethany: And besides, isn't he still going out with Caitlyn? She’s practically the shortest girl in our grade.
TrinaTime: Well… I’ve heard on the grapevine that they’re going to break up this weekend.
BestBethany: Wait? Really? Why?
TrinaTime: Apparently they were having relationship problems since they started out, but she only stayed with him to get into all the party’s while she was under 21. Since her birthday’s on Saturday, she planning on dumping him on Sunday so she can keep his present.
BestBethany: What a slut!
TrinaTime: But that means you can be the rebound girl!
BestBethany: I already told you! Trevor’s never going to be into it. I’m just too tall.
TrinaTime: Well then, why don’t you go fix it then?
BestBethany: I would if I knew how!
“Okay class, have a good weekend, and remember that the homework is due at the beginning of class without exception,” the lecturer said, breaking Beth out of her text conversation. Putting her laptop in her backpack, Beth made her way to her next class, her conversation with Trina going to the back of her mind.
Beth flopped down on her couch. She had finally finished her classes, and was getting a bit of rest before heading out for the weekly Friday parties at the local frat houses. She grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, and began idly flipping through channels, not looking for anything in particular. “Bleh,” She said as she threw the remote against the ground, unable to find anything worth watching.
~~~~~~~
*Click*
Once again, Michael hit his button on the chess timer, freezing it on exactly 05:00, as though he had been timing it perfectly.
“I don’t see how pitching me a sequel is a good idea when I didn’t take up your offer on the original story,” Jim said. He had finally broken down and ordered a sandwich and some fries since seemed that this 15 minute meeting had turned into a half hour one. Since he had came on his lunch break anyways, he decided it would be better to simply eat now than risk not having any lunch.
“Well, it never hurts to try,” Michael said, taking another sip of his coffee. He had ordered a slice of apple pie, since he had finished lunch before revealing himself to Jim.
“And as for that first story, Vore is not typically a circle in which there is much overlap for our business, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on that one as well.”
“Jim, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“What!” Jim said, his mouth partially filled with fries.
“From what you said in our previous chat, it seems as if you are under the assumption that your reward for listening to my stories is that I will fix your secretary.”
“You son of a bitch! I’m goi-“
“Let me finish,” Michael said, taking a stern tone that threw Jim off guard, silencing him, “*Ahem* You see, the actual agreement that has been made is that, by you listening to my stories, I’m offering you a chance that very few have ever been granted. I’m going to allow you brief access to my powers by allowing you to have any single wish of yours granted.”
“What?” Jim said, now much more calm.
“Of course, this wish has restrictions. You can’t ask for infinite wishes or access to another wishing method. But otherwise, anything or possibility you could possibly wish for can be yours.”
Jim was truly speechless now. The chance to get anything he wants. He could wish for a million dollars, or have his own movie studio, or just take over his current studio, or never have to work again, or, or, or-
Jim needed to concentrate. While that sounds nice, he needed to focus on fixing Stacy first. “Could I use my wish to fix Stacy?”
“You could use your wish to do anything you’d want to Stacy,” Michael said.
“B-but why would you want to give me a wish?”
“Because Jim, it had to be you.” Jim just sat in silence, staring at Michael’s non-answer.
“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” Jim said, pressing his button once more, his timer left with 2 minutes and a few seconds.
Pitch 6: From the Journal of Benjamin McArthur
November 3, 1999
Today marks the beginning of my solo expedition into the cave that I had discovered on the 8th of September on the outskirts of the abandoned town of Zeldingshire. The cave in question is most likely a mining cave, as several decaying tracks lie by the entrance of the cave. However, the cave could not be confirmed as a mine, as little to no history seems to exist on the history of this abandoned town. If it was a mine, it could be assumed that the town fell into disarray once the mine stopped producing wealthy ore, but once again, I could not draw any conclusions besides the fact that the citizens must have left some time in the 1950’s or 60’s.
The entrance to the cave was built into the side of the nearby Mount Zelding (I’m uncertain if the town was founded first or the mountain, but it is very likely that the two were named after the same person) and appears to be held up by natural means, as there appears to be no signs of supports within the first few meters of the cave. A slight earthly aroma surrounds me within the first few steps, and only seems to increase as I make my way further into the cave.
~~~~~~~
*Beep*
The timer’s clock reached 00:00 on Michael’s end, while Jim’s side began completing its last 2 minutes of time.
“So, what do you think.” Michael asked. Dishes had already been taken, and bills were waiting to be picked up, Jim paying with a credit card while Michael was paying with cash. Michael had also snagged a slice of cherry pie to bring back to the office with him.
“I think that if we made this movie, we would have to deal with a lot of people harming themselves or making dumb decisions like exploring caves without proper preparation, and the last thing we need is a lawsuit, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this story as well,” Jim said, finishing up the last of his coffee.
“Okay then,” Michael said, the slightest hint of sadness in his voice as he chirped up once again. “In that case, I guess I’ll tell you the real purpose of the timer now.”
“Hm!” Jim nearly spat out his coffee, but managed to choke it down.
“You see, my timer was for my story, but your timer is to decide your wish. So simply say the phrase, ‘I wish’ followed by you want, and I’ll grant it, but you might want to decide quickly.” Michael said, gesturing towards the time, which indicated he only had 30 seconds to decide.
Many thoughts ran through Jim’s head at this revelation. Some were of wanting to harm Michael in a multitude of ways, but the more rational side was doing its best to try and run through all the possible things he could want and what were at the top of the list. Would a movie studio really be enough when he could simply become leader of the world? Or the next amazing visionary? Or practically a God? Or-
‘No!’ Jim thought, ‘As nice as those things would be… I have to fix Stacy. I can’t just let him get away with this.’
“I… I wish that Stacy was normal again.” Jim managed to spit out right before his timer ended.
“Okay, your wish is granted,” Michael said, snapping his fingers just as Deborah came back with the paid bills. “Now then,” Michael stood up, handing a $20 bill to Deborah as a very generous tip, “I have to be off. If you ever want to chat again, you have my contact information,” Michael stretched out his hand, anticipating a hand shake.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Jim said, walking past Michael on his way to the door. Just as he was about to leave however, he paused in the doorway, saying, “but thank you for fixing Stacy,” before walking back to his office.
“Hey Stacy,” Jim said as he entered the break room on his floor.
“Oh! Hey Jim! How was lunch?” Stacy said, turning from her conversation with some other coworkers on Jim’s floor.
“Meh. I had to go to this little diner to meet with- … Family. But otherwise it was fine, at least the food was good.”
“Well, at least you survived!,” Stacy said, picking up on Jim’s uncomfortableness about his lunch.
“Yeah… Oh, by the way. Um… It’s no big deal, but I grabbed a slice of their cherry pie, because I remembered it’s your favorite… so…” Jim said, blushing slightly and doing his best to avoid looking directly into her eyes as he handed Stacy the box of Cherry Pie.
“Oh Thanks!” Stacy said, taking the gift, “I’ll just go stash this in the fridge and take it home later.”
“Oh… Did you already get lunch?” Jim asked.
“No, It’s just that I left my stomach at home today,” Stacy said, lifting up her shirt and pressing her belly button, causing her stomach to open up like a tiny door. There were no organs to be seen, but the bottom of her lungs and heart peaked from the top of the door. “See, I left it home.”
“B-but… but… that’s not normal-“
“Yeah, I know most secretary’s leave their heart and lungs at home too, but I don’t know. It just feels too weird when I’m completely empty.”
“M-most secretarys?!”
“Yeah?… Don’t you remember, when I got the job I had to get the “Secretary’s Surgery for Increased Productivity”? You were the one who signed off on my surgery.”
“Wha-? Oh. Oh yeah,” Jim said, faking a calm in order to exit the conversation, “Yeah. Sorry, I was distracted by… the pie. And worrying… but I remembered. Ha, Yeah…”
“Ohhh-kay?” Stacy said, closing her stomach and rolling down her shirt, “Anyway, thanks for the pie.”
“Yeah, no problem. I gotta get back to work, but don’t forget that pie. Because… yeah,” Jim walked away, leaving Stacy to shrug as she went back to the conversation she was having with her fellow coworkers.
Jim hit himself in the face as he rushed back to his office. He hoped Stacy didn’t think worse of him because of how he acted, but he was completely at a loss for how to react off of Michael’s Deception.
When he finally arrived, he wasn’t surprised to see that there was already a message on his office phone. Pressing the button, the obnoxious voice of Michael rang through,
“Hey Jim, by now you’re probably realizing that you probably should have been a bit more specific when you made the wish to turn your secretary normal again. Of course, to everyone she’s been normal this entire time, but it seems as though your wish has given all secretaries a similar morph, which was a bit of a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Anyways, I’m just calling to offer you another chance to fix it!”
“Oh no,” Jim interrupted the prerecorded message, “Anything but-“
“And it will only cost 15 minutes of your time.”