“Why not use the story of the lady dancing at her husband’s funeral?” Bart asked. “What could be more anti-depressant than that?”
“The end of this meeting,” Cindy said.
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include The Laundromat Mystery and Back to School. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
“You wanted to be in advertising,” Ted replied, smiling at Cindy. “Criticism is part of the creative process.”
“Okay,” she replied, sitting taller in her chair. “Here’s my criticism. There are already dozens of anti-depressants out there. Maybe hundreds. What, exactly, does this new drug Blyssyfyx do that the rest don’t? Why did we even take this account?”
“We took the account,” Ted said, “because ScripChem is paying us a whopping huge pile of money. As for what Blyssyfyx does that the rest don’t, the better question is what it doesn’t that the rest do. I think we should work in the fact that it doesn’t block romantic desire.”
“In six clinical trial subjects,” Cindy said, tapping the report. “Nine reported hearing the voice of god coming from kitchen appliances. Should we push Blyssyfyx as a religious experience?”
“Now there’s a thought,” Dan said as he bounced a Nerf ball off the wall. “Blyssyfyx: It connects you to the Almighty.”
Cindy harrumphed. “Only if the Almighty is transitory chemical activation of the primary auditory cortex.”
Bart flipped his pencil end over end, catching it by the tip. “The bottom line is, ScripChem only want a 30-second spot and we’ll need 24 seconds to list the side effects. That’s only six seconds of push copy. That’s why I say we go with the lady dancing at her husband’s funeral.”
“It’s possible,” Dan said. “But how do we know she even liked him? Maybe she was just glad to be rid of him?”
“Speaking of side effects,” Cindy said, wanting to bat Bart’s pencil into Dan’s Nerf ball, “what is ‘gregarious flatulence?'”
Ted sighed. “It seems some subjects experienced abdominal gas … and an overwhelming urge to share it with everyone they met.”