The Stephen King novel

In which Stephen King pitches his publisher a new novel.

1. int. publisher’s office. day.

ANNE, a female publisher in her late 50’s, sits at her computer. A collection of trophies adorns a shelf nearby.

Her mobile rings. The caller I.D reads “Stephen King”. She lets it ring for a couple of beats, contemplating whether to answer. She lets out a sigh.

ANNE

(Flatly) Hello, Stephen.

STEPHEN (V/O)

(Enthusiastically) Hey, Anne, it’s me Stephen — Stephen King. How you doing?

ANNE closes her eyes, and rubs her temple with her free hand, leaning her head on her arm.

ANNE

(Impatiently) Yes, hi Stephen, I’m well. What can I do for you?

STEPHEN (V/O)

I’m super excited, see, I’m writing another book about spooky shit that could totally happen to you in the real world.

ANNE rolls her eyes, then mouths the next words in unison with STEPHEN.

STEPHEN (V/O) (CONT’D)

But only if you live in New England.

Like, I dunno, what if you went to the grocery store one day, right — are you with me so far? A-a-and then instead of apples, all the apples were turned into softballs! But no one noticed except you?

That’s scary, right?

ANNE opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, STEPHEN continues. She lets her head fall on the desk with a thud.

STEPHEN (V/O) (CONT’D)

Or maybe you move into a new apartment building and the guy next door to you is blind, so you have to read his mail to him every day — but actually, his mail is cursed by like, a gypsy or something.

(Pause)

(Increasingly enthusiastic) Actually, no, better — he’s not blind — he has eyes. But they’re not actually eyes. They’re testicles! Yea. Didn’t see that coming, did you?

I’ll have it on your desk next week. Thanks Anne, you’re the best! (hangs up)

ANNE still has her face pressed into the table, and lets out a long groan.