Seated across from me in the airport waiting room was film director David Cronenberg, creator of some of the edgiest movies of our time. For a man who wrote Twilight People-Switchblade Stories, edgy flash fiction, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had a copy with me as luck would have it, and, as intimidated as I was, I had to introduce myself. Getting this man to turn my stories into films was my dream.
So I did.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cronenberg, I don't wish to disturb you, but I'm a big fan, a huge admirer of your work."
He looked down and saw my book.
He frowned. "I must ask you to step away from me immediately, sir. I have had the unfortunate experience of reading the book you are now holding. I found it to be the sickest, most despicable collection of demented slasher porn fiction I have ever read. I do not wish to interact with anyone perverted enough to consume such garbage. I shudder to imagine what kind of diseased mind created this cesspool of words."
With that, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed away.
It took me minutes to recover. Then I looked at the up side. Perhaps Ron Howard is looking for a change of direction. My stories await, Mr. Howard.
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