I'll be using writing prompts for a lot of these posts (because I haven't been inspired much on my own or else I wouldn't be doing this) and this one is from the Reddit community /writingprompts. The prompt is "For some reason you are now responsible for the story of the next Call of Duty - since you already have the money from all the preorders, you decide to not longer give a shit, and you write something ridiculous. People love it."
If you have any thoughts or constructive criticism, feel free to let me know in the comments!
Call of Doody
I hung up the phone with numb fingers. Alex was standing to my left, watching me for a moment before raising his eyebrows and holding his palms up, as if to say "Well?!"
"That was JR on the phone." I said distractedly.
"I know it was JR." Alex said, "What did he say? What happened?"
"He said..." I paused, still having trouble understanding what I'd heard myself. "He said he wants me to write the story for the next Call of Duty game."
Alex waited, probably to see if I was joking or not. I was at a loss for words so I just sat there and looked up at Alex who was still standing over me, waiting for the punchline. Finally, his face contorted into an expression best described as a mix between confusion and suspicion and he said "What now?"
"JR wants me to write the story for the next Call of Duty game." I reiterated.
"Why in the hell would he ask you to do that? Don't they have people who get paid to do that?"
I stretched out my arms in a shrug and said "Yeah, but I guess there's been some sort of upheaval in the writing department. Some sort of internal schism--"
"In English, please?" Alex cut in.
"Oh Christ, Alex, read a book, would you?" I continued before he could respond,"There was a falling out between the writers and JR and they all went on strike."
Alex scoffed. "Your uncle not playing well with others? I'm shocked. Why doesn't he just hire writers from some other company?"
"He said he doesn't have time. They're already way behind schedule and he says that professional writers care too much about research and brainstorming and all that other--and I'm quoting him here-'lame ass pussy shit'."
Alex rolled his eyes "Yeah, writers are funny that way."
"Well anyway, he said he needs the story by tomorrow. And he said he knows I have an English degree and I owe him one from when he bought me that trip to London last year--"
"I thought he said that was a college graduation present?"
I lowered my eyes and stared at my hands. "Yeah, so did I."
"God, he is such a dick, Mark. Why do you even talk to him still?"
"I don't know. I mean, yeah, he's an asshole but he's been there for me through some tough shit--"
"Like what?" Alex interrupted me again, "How exactly did he help you through tough shit? His idea of helping you was throwing money at you and then holding it over your head whenever he needed a 'favor' from you."
"He's still my uncle, ok?" My face was getting hot. Alex wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know but it still hurt to hear it out loud. It's true that my uncle was manipulative and self-serving but standing up for myself was never one of my strong suits. I didn't need to be reminded that I had gelatin where my spine should be.
"Plus,"Alex railroaded on. Once he started in on JR, there wasn't much you could do to stop him. "Didn't he serve time for embezzling from that fundraiser for poor kids?"
"He apologized for that."
"Oh sure, after he spent all the money on parties at his yacht."
"Dude--"
"Speaking of, did he even mention if he would pay you for doing this?"
"Yes! Yes, actually he did!" I threw out the number JR had given me.
"Are you kidding me?!" Alex was really incensed now. "That's slave wages! This guy uses money for toilet paper and that's all he can offer you?!"
"Well...yeah, I guess. He didn't really give me any time to talk or negotiate or....say anything really."
"That fucking guy..." Alex put his fists on his hips and glanced wildly around the room as if looking for something to punch.
"Well he said they haven't gotten as many pre-orders as they expected and that's all they can spare. But he's paying me upfront. He said he'd transfer the money to my account immediately."
Alex was dubious. "Oh really? Let me see your phone."
I handed it over and Alex quickly checked my bank account balance.
"Huh. Holy shit, he actually did something he said he would do." he said, sounding mystified.
"Yeah. I guess that means I'm obligated to write it....right?"
"You don't even play video games, Mark. How are you supposed to write one?"
"I don't even write, Alex! I only got an English degree because I didn't know what else to major in!"
Alex knelt in front of me and took my hands in his. "I know, I know." I was starting to get upset but Alex sat up a little taller on his knees so he could press his forehead against mine and gave me a reassuring smile, his anger at my uncle seemingly dissipated for the moment. I smiled back but I still didn't know what I was going to do.
"Can you help me?" I asked, my voice giving away more desperation than I would like. "You play a lot of video games."
Alex let out a little laugh and gave me a quick kiss "Dude, I play RPGs and fantasy games. Shooters are a whole different animal."
"They can't be that different." I retort.
"They are. Shooters have no heart. They barely even have a story to begin with." Then Alex's eyes lit up and seemed to look through me instead of at me. I knew that look. "Although...."
I waved a hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. "Although, what?"
His eyes snapped back to mine "I think I know how we can get back at your uncle."
"I...I didn't know we were trying to get back at him to begin with."
"Yes! He can't keep using you like this!" Alex stood back up and his voice grew louder and faster, like it usually did when he got like this. "I know what we can do! We'll get a whole bunch of rich guys to invest in this game, we'll sell a ton of pre-orders and then we'll write the absolute worse story line in the history of video games! Then when it tanks, we just keep all the money from the investors and the pre-orders, change our names and assume new identities in Bermuda."
I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Isn't that the plot of The Producers?"
He hesitated for a second, thinking "...Huh. Yeah, I guess it is."
"And don't they end up in prison?"
"Whatever, we'll iron out the details later."
"Alex, going to prison for fraud is not going to get back at my uncle."
"It will if we ruin his company and make them look like amateurs!"
"Well if we want to do that, why don't we just write a shitty game that's guaranteed to tank and leave it at that?"
"Wait, I have a better idea!" Alex continued as if he hadn't heard me. "We'll just write the worst game ever, let JR's company make it and release it and just let them look like idiots when it doesn't sell a single copy!"
"That's literally what I just said, Alex."
"Well it's a good idea!" He grabbed my hands again and pulled me into a hug. "Let's get writing! This is going to be a blast!"
To be continued tomorrow!
Love,
Ryssa
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