The following piece of writing is satire. It is fiction. Any resemblance to living or dead people or a particular Hollywood movie or a political philosophy or anything that is streaming is completely intentional.

Contemporary Creative Cinematography: Take One

Two nicely dressed women in their upper twenties are sitting at a nicely dressed table in a nicely dressed restaurant. They are staring at their cell phones, hardly looking up when the androgenous server arrives and with a big smile proclaims that his name is Richard, “although some call me Richie, and, uh, a few just call me Dick.”

The women barely lift their eyes from their addiction.

“Would you like to order lunch?”

“I’ll have the healthiest thing on your menu,” says anonymous female number one (AFNO for now as a casting decision has not yet been made as to whether she will be a BIPOC), laughing loudly while keeping her head glued to her screen.

Richard is not amused, undoubtedly thinking of how he would like to be back in his cramped studio apartment writing something he tentatively has titled “Contemporary Creative Cinematography.”

This very morning, over cold pizza and left over coffee, barely awake after a long day of serving nitwits and spoiled brats of all ages and identifying labels at the restaurant, his breakfast inspiration had been to add a major DEI twist to the plot of his screenplay, although his current thinking has not progressed past the idea stage. Unrelated to DEI, he wants to maximize expansiveness of language, adding nuance to what he sees as uninteresting current trends in dialogue.

Snapping back to reality and working hard to suppress a smirk aimed at AFNO, he responded, “I will bring you the organic, fair-traded – or is it locally grown, not sure which — kale with whatever other salad mixings are politically correct and in the kitchen today.”

Engrossed in her digital explorations, she seemingly does not even hear him.

Anonymous female number two (AFNT is her placeholder designation as a casting decision has not yet been made as to whether she will be LGBTQX), without looking up from her phone, simply says, “I’ll have the same, but with a piece of farm-raised salmon on top.”

“Broiled or grilled?

“Whatever.”

Before Richard, aka Richie, sometimes aka Dick is out of earshot, AFNO exclaims, staring at her screen, “Look at this fg guy, I would so like to do him.”

“Let me see” says AFNT. “Oh yes, I would definitely do him.”

“Would you want to have a fg baby with him?”

“F yes.”

“You would want a fg kid getting in your fg way, crying his fg head off when he does not get his fg toy!”

“Yeah, I want a fg kid, give some meaning to my fg life” says AFNO, lifting her head for the first time and calling for Richard to take an order: “Get me a Cosmopolitan … and make it a double.”

AFNT orders a glass of white wine, which Richard assures her is recommended as an accompaniment for fish, particularly if it is whatever salmon.

Richard is not sure that one can double a Cosmopolitan. His bartender friend Bruce is polishing the glasses in front of him with more passion than ever suggested by “How to become a terrific bartender and pick up partners of whatever label,” the manual he had to study when his extra bit on “Law and Order” came to an end. He listens to Richard’s drink request with one of those “are you fg kidding me” looks, then pours the nearest relevant ingredients together and hands it over. The white wine is poured from a bottle imaginatively called, “house white wine.”

Meanwhile, back at the table, AFNT asks, “Are you going to text the fg guy? Nice of him to provide his fg number to the whole fg world.”

“F yes.”

“Hey Richie, where’s our fg food?”

“It’s being prepared by our fg chef,” he replies without a hint of sarcasm.

AFNO, “I have to get back to my fg job.

AFNT: “Have you slept with your fg boss yet. Are you still doing fg legal work but being paid as a fg paralegal?”

AFNO: “The fg guy is gay; can you imagine, a fg gay corporate lawyer! I thought they were supposed to be fg studs. As for money, hey, I’m all in favor of DEI, but how does it apply to Jewish people being promoted when WASPS are better suited for the positions.”

AFNT: “Hey, you want fg studs. Come to the football stadium; they’re all over the fg place. I’m in my fg cubicle wondering if I could trade my fg unemployed boyfriend for a fg halfback.”

AFNO laughs, “Maybe I can get my fg boss to file a lawsuit, claiming that the halfback of your fg dreams is discriminating against you.”

They attempt, with their drinks in hand, to high five this intellectual insight but fail to notice that Richard has quietly arrived with their food, the consequence being a collision that results in two plates of suitable calories being deposited on a gleaming wood floor.

Richard looks down at the mess, then up at AFNO and AFNT.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the two women rise from their chairs, “Sorry about your carelessness, but we have to get back to our fg jobs.”

“Hey, would you at least pay for your fg drinks.”

“Later, Dick.” AFNO and AFNT laugh as they begin walking toward the exit door.

“We’ve got more identifying personal labels to discover and apply to people we don’t know anything about and more cursing to do in place of language diversity and appropriateness of word choice.”

Richard is stunned at their closing comments, not even sure they could have come out of the mouths of  these two women who, on reflection, he knows very little about, except the obvious, their fg language.

“Maybe what they said has some merit,” he says quietly to himself.

“Yes, I can include those thoughts in Contemporary Creative Cinematography.”