At this point in the play, a film student has accused his prof of hating his latest pitch:
And if I did, so what? What’s so precious about your ideas that they can’t stand up to a little scrutiny? You think I’m a dick? I’ll introduce you to dicks. You’re writing for people who don’t love you, Dylan. They hope that what you write sucks balls fast because it makes it easier to move on to the next pitch. And they’ll hate it. Not because you didn’t spell check. They’ll hate it because you’re too fat. Or too ugly. Or too brown. Or too old. They won’t even know what’s wrong with your story. They won’t care. They’ll just not like you. For you. And in that situation, where nothing else matters but your fucking dream of being a rich and famous scriptwriter, you will never get a chance to pitch again. Because they’ve decided that anything you have to offer has to suck because the first thing you gave them sucked. THAT’S who you’ve got to get to like your story. They’re not your Gameboy-beating, masturbating friend, Dylan. They’re goalies. And their job is to stop the shots. They’re pissed off because they aren’t having lunch on a patio with a glass of wine telling someone who’s actually had a movie made how much they love their work and how they need to work on a project together. Instead, they’re stuck in an office meeting you and having to listen to your pitch. They hate you for being alive and how did you even get in their office, keeping them from feeling more important than they are. So they’re going to take it out on you. And in that lion’s den of iniquity, what do you bring them?
What, what, what do you want me to say?
You bring the best fucking story you can think of!