Spring 1988 – A Bad Dream Composed For Short Cash

 

Frank popped the tops of the beers with the blue metal opener attached to his keyring. He handed the first to me and the second to Will. He kept the third for himself. Jake not drinking was apparently an expected thing. Frank and Will clicked their bottles and each took a quick gulp. I followed suit. 

Frank said, “My dad made the movie. He’d directed some commercials and some TV cop shows back when he was in California. He was a hustler but the kind who actually liked the people he was working on. He was the sort of guy who could start up a conversation with anybody and they’d still be talking to him ten minutes later. He’d been in town for about six months when he got the idea of making a movie here. He had a couple of scripts that he’d tried to sell before. He just rewrote the settings to fit our town.”

“Both the movies were horror films?” I asked.

Frank nodded. “Dad liked other kinds of movies but he knew that horror films usually turned a bigger profit. Dad spent his whole life trying to get rich. I learned a lot watching him try. Mostly I learned that chasing money was a good way to not have either it or happiness.”