Below you’ll find a number of samples for various types of writing.

There are three action game cut scenes. They’re sequential, for an action/adventure game in the vein of Assassin’s Creed or Uncharted. There are two interactive scripts for virtual novel style text, told both through direct dialogue and through SMS messages. There’s a dialogue script in TV format for a short dark humor urban fantasy scene. Then there’s a piece of short, emotional prose called Hero of War. Lastly, there’s a sample TV or radio commercial script for the Jack in the Box fast food chain. You can click through the contents below to jump to specific samples.


Action Game Cut Scene I: The Boardwalk

Action Game Cut Scene II: The Loft

Action Game Cut Scene III: The Penthouse

Interactive Script 1: The Not-Quite Leading Lady

Interactive Script 2: Once Bitten

Dialogue Script 1: Vampire Huntress

Short Fiction 1: Hero of War

Commercial Sample: Jack in the Box

Action Game Cut Scene I: The Boardwalk


CARTER walks through crowded boardwalk. He bobs and weaves through the mobs. He slides his hand out of the sleeve of his brown wool hoodie, and steals a kebab from a vendor grill. CARTER has a somewhat stuffy, overly serious speech pattern.


Keep it up kid, and you’ll go places. 

KAREN appears out of the crowd. She moves to walk alongside CARTER. CARTER pulls his hood up over his head and puts his hands in his waist pocket. KAREN has a subtle Hispanic/Southern Californian accent. 


I don’t want to go places. I want to stay here, in Venice Beach. And no matter how many times you say it, I’m not a kid. You’ve really got to ditch that old hoodie. I get that you’re trying to do the whole Franciscan monk thing, but this is 2015, and men of the cloth don’t exactly blend in with crowds anymore.

KAREN reaches out to steal a cup of HORCHATA. She sips it while they walk. (Production note: Horchata is brown, and served cold, with ice.)


Nonsense, Karen. The public will always overlook men dedicated to peace and neutrality. 

CARTER nods toward a basketball court, where a GANG of ten or so thugs stands vigilant. 


That’s the thing. Most people don’t think they’re dedi—

KAREN tosses HORCHATA straight up and grabs a GANGSTER that snuck up behind her. She grabs him by the tank top and the wrist. She shifts and throws him over her shoulder, slamming him into the pavement. She kneels and wrist strikes him in the throat. As GANGSTER grasps his neck in pain, the HORCHATA splashes all over his face. Pan out, the gang surrounds CARTER and KAREN, ready to fight. 

KAREN kicks at one of the GANGSTERS. GANGSTER whips KAREN across the face with a CHAIN.


Remember what I said. Let them come to you. 

A burly GANGSTER swings at CARTER. He ducks and shifts, directing the lummox’s punch to knock out one of the smaller gangsters. As CARTER stands back in a defensive stance, his hood falls off, revealing his old, wrinkled face. 

KAREN nods, then dusts herself off. A GANGSTER rushes her. She drops to smash her shoulder into his stomach. GANGSTER doubles over, then KAREN pushes him into another attacker. GANGSTER with the CHAIN closes in again. 


Use your environment. They fight with numbers; you fight with awareness. 

CARTER brings a heel down on a GANGSTER’s chest. CROWD gathers to watch, forming a circle around the combatants. 

GANGSTER swings CHAIN in a wide arc. KAREN sidesteps, and the CHAIN wraps around a light post. KAREN clutches his wrist, and brings her knee up to snap his elbow hard. CRACKING SOUND, SCREAM. The rest of the GANG recoils. She plants her fist into another GANGSTER’s solar plexus. GANGSTER falls. KAREN grabs her bleeding fist and steps back, cursing. 


Damned spikes. Those went out in the 90s. 

CARTER brings a GANGSTER’s face down onto his knee. 


Your fist will never be as hard as the things around you. Don’t do the heavy lifting. 

GANGSTER rushes KAREN, and sandwiches her against a wall. Knocks wind out of KAREN. She gasps out.


Oh yeah. Heavy lifting.

KAREN jerks to the side. GANGSTER punches the wall where she was, and CURSES out. KAREN spins, and shoves the GANGSTER’s head into the brick wall. GANGSTER slides down against the wall, his blood smearing across a VIRGIN OF GUADALUPE MURAL. 


It’s a shame to ruin such a pretty mural. 

CARTER and KAREN look around. All GANGSTERS are on the pavement unconscious or incapacitated. CARTER pulls his hood back up over his head. 


The kids on the street will clean it and repaint it. 

CARTER blends back into the crowd. KAREN rushes after him, and finishes his statement. 


That’s how the city heals.

Action Game Cut Scene II: The Loft


ANGELO punches an old sandbag with a dusty business suit draped over it. He impatiently paces.


What if Carter’s hiding something from us? There’s got to be more to the story.

 SHANTEL stands from CARD TABLE and shakes her head. 


Carter’s not hiding anything. I know people, and Carter’s laying it out straight.


Alright then. He’s telling us everything he knows. Then why are we killing people? He keeps feeding us this “greater good” shit, but I don’t even know what they’re doing wrong.


The Order runs gangs, and has protection scams all over. You’ve seen what they do to shop owners that don’t run those god-forsaken security cameras. 


Yeah. But that’s all mob shit. That’s why we have organized crime units. It’s why we pay taxes. Do you think a few street rats can do something professionals can’t?

KAREN sits on a cot. She shrugs, then nods her head silently.


You’re getting all spooky cryptic, just like Carter.


It figures. She’s the favorite apprentice.

KAREN stands from the cot, and poses confrontationally. KAREN glares at SHANTEL.


Have you ever thought that maybe I’m the favorite apprentice because I pulled my head out of my ass? Have you ever thought that Carter spends more time with me because I don’t waste time second-guessing whether or not we need to stop the Order?

ANGELO puts a hand up defensively, trying to diffuse the situation. SHANTEL stands to argue with KAREN, but stands down to let ANGELO speak. 


Look. I ain’t saying that the Order don’t need to be stopped. I’m just saying that it’s weird that it’s us. I’m a dude off the street, not a superhero. 

KAREN looks to ANGELO, takes a beat. 


You’re not just some dude off the street. You’re a killer. You’re on this team because Carter knew you could do the job. Any of your idiot surfer pals would run with their tails between their legs if they saw an Order enforcer on the job. You stand your ground and fight. Do you know what we’d call you if you ran from an Order enforcer? 

ANGELO gulps subtly, and nods. 


A corpse. 

SHANTEL rolls her eyes and looks away. 


It makes sense why he likes you. You buy the party line crap and make it sound good. 

KAREN hides a smile by pulling her sweatshirt hood up over her head.  


We’re doing a lot of good here. Agendas and conspiracies and bullshit aside, the neighborhood’s doing better. Your surfer pals are free to run with their tails between their legs, because of people like us, and like Carter.

Sirens ring out. Red, blue, and white lights cascade through the boarded windows. A POLICE loudspeaker blasts through the walls. 


This is the police. Come out with your hands up. I repeat. This is the police. Come out with your hands up.


Also, you have to admit, running from the cops can be kind of fun.

KAREN smirks to the other two. SHANTEL and ANGELO nod in acknowledgment, with amusement on their faces. KAREN runs to a window, and vaults up a fire escape. SHANTEL and ANGELO run for different exits.

Action Game Cut Scene III: The Penthouse


CAVENDISH stands on the balcony, leaning out, overlooking the city. Balcony door is open. KAREN stands inside the condo, facing CAVENDISH. CAVENDISH is in a nice suit, and has a slight British accent. KAREN is in a gray hoodie and baggy jeans.


I suspect this is the scene where we fight? Where we have our epic duel that shifts the balance of power forever? 


The thought crossed my mind. 


I’ll notice you’re not pulling a weapon. Can I safely assume that you’ve figured it out? That killing me won’t change a thing? The operation will go on without me, murderess. I’ve set things in motion, and they’re moving right now, as we speak.


I suspect this is the scene where you give the big reveal? Where you tell me (KAREN switches to a bad impersonation of CAVENDISH’s accent) “You and me, we’re not so different. We both want the same things, but for different reasons. We want control, Karen.” (End impersonation) Am I right?

CAVENDISH chuckles. CAVENDISH turns to face KAREN.


Perhaps. If you’d like to hear the plans, I suppose it wouldn’t…

KAREN cuts CAVENDISH off, and slowly steps toward CAVENDISH. 


No. It’s not that scene. This is the scene where I tell you about how Angelo snuck into your distribution center, and planted cocaine in your supply chain.


Scene with ANGELO. ANGELO performs his part of the heist. 


KAREN speaks to CAVENDISH. KAREN is now standing on the balcony, face to face with CAVENDISH. 


That’s impossible. Even if you broke in, we still have… 

KAREN cuts CAVENDISH off again.


You still have your backup operation on the south side. You knew that success depended on getting those microchips to market tomorrow. You planned for a supply side interruption, and doubled the order. That’s why Shantel started a gang war outside the plant.


Scene with SHANTEL. SHANTEL performs her part of the heist. 


KAREN looks up to CAVENDISH’s face confrontationally. CAVENDISH turns his head to break eye contact.


You’re bluffing. Even if you did what you say, I have men…


You have men in the joint task force leadership. We know. That’s why Carter handed some leaked emails to the FBI earlier today. Your patsies haven’t called you because they’re currently in questioning.


Scene with CARTER. CARTER performs his part of the heist. 


CAVENDISH throws his hands up, and shakes his head in denial.


No. I refuse to believe it. I make the plans. You’re just…

KAREN cuts CAVENDISH off once more.


Petty murderers? I know. We might have been. But not anymore. We’re so much more than that. Tonight, it ends. 


You’ve won. Is that what you needed to hear? You’ve won. My empire’s exposed. I’ll spend years in prison, justice served. 

Karen shakes her head, and flicks out a switchblade. 


No. This is the scene where we fight.

Interactive Script 1: The Not-Quite Leading Lady


Target Audience: Female, 20-45

Genre: Romance

Main Character Biography: Allie

Allie lives in her head, creative and always daydreaming. For this reason, Allie struggles with “adulting,” almost always late and disorganized. She’s trying to become an actress so she can live out all her dreams on camera. Allie just landed the chance of a lifetime—a speaking role in a big-budget superhero movie, Dynamic Girl. She’s not the actual superhero; she’s Dynamic Girl’s quirky best friend. But that’s not going to stop her from being a star! What might stop her, though, is that she’s put off reading her script until the last possible moment. After all, a girl has to have a party celebrating her big break, right? Now Allie’s at the first rehearsal, and she has to convince everyone she belongs on the set and knows what she’s doing. What’s worse? She has to act like she’s not crushing on the leading man, Chris.

Antagonist Biography: Chris

You’ve seen Chris. He’s on the cover of that one magazine. Actually, he’s on the cover of every magazine. He was responsible for everyone’s favorite reaction gif last year. You know the one, the one where he gives the sexy smile then falls down the stairs and everyone laughs. He’s been in a couple of TV shows and movies. This is his first marquee title. He’s the romantic lead in a big-budget superhero movie. As Allie’s antagonist, he’s going to first come off as a big crush in an inconvenient situation, since he has to rehearse with Dynamic Girl. As the story progresses, Allie starts to fall for Dynamic Girl. However, Chris knows Allie’s secret—she doesn’t know her lines! Since he also has the hots for Dynamic Girl’s actress, he tells Allie to stay away or he’ll tell the director about her incompetence and get her kicked off the film.



I just think it’s really cool the snack table, er, the craft services table, has recycling bins. It’s like they care—


It looks like we kiss.


Huh? Um. What? Because the recycling bin is by the craft services table? Is that a Hollywood thing?


No, it says in the script on page—


Oh my gosh you’re him! Chris… um…


Yes. Chris—


No, no, no. I remember. It’s Chris… Jone… No… Not that one… 


Ha ha. There are a lot of us… Chrises. 


Brubaker! Chris Brubaker! 


Guilty as charged. Now, the—


I’m a huge fan. Huge. I mean, of course I am. What girl isn’t a fan of Chris Brubaker? 


Well, perhaps that’s something of an overstatement. Sure, I do have a couple million social media followers, but—


Wait. You said we kiss?

14. CHRIS 

Yes. Page 142. Right here. It’s supposed to be cute and awkward. Are you method acting right now?


Me? Method? Oh yeah. Totally method acting. This is me, totally not cute and awkward. Oh no. You kiss Dynamic Girl…not me.


You’re not Monica? Well isn’t that a shame?


You could kiss me anyway. Wait. No. Not that. That’s weird and I should probably shut up now. Want a cheese cracker?


I think I’ll be fine. I’m… going to find Monica now. 

19. ALLIE 

Yeah. That’s probably a good idea. Sigh. Good job, Allie. Great job. Way to blow it with the sexiest man alive.


I’m still standing here…

Interactive Script 2: Once Bitten

Target Audience: Female, 20-45

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Section 1: Prose

You wake to a ringing in your ears. Your vision’s spinning. The only thing you remember from last night’s party is a short conversation with your friend, Alex. That, and drinking. Far too much drinking. As your vision returns, you’re in your bedroom, which is a total mess. You feel like a mess. You feel worse than your room looks. You get a text from Alex.

Section 2: SMS Exchange

Alex: You up yet?

You: Dunno. I think maybe I died and went to hell. What do you think?

Alex: I think it’s called a hangover, babe.

You: Sure. If you want to get technical. 

Alex: So… have you noticed anything else? Anything weirder?

You: Oblique text messages from friends?

Alex: Cute. Let me know if you need anything. Seriously.

You: Are you trying to tell me something?

Section 3: Prose

While you’re waiting for Alex’s reply, you hear your stomach growling. You go to the kitchen, but nothing looks good. In fact, everything looks awful. Just then, the landlord knocks on your door. Every instinct tells you to eat him. To open the door, grab him, and take the life out of him. In a panic, you shout, “Just a minute!” Then you remember what Alex said, and type out a message.

Section 4: SMS Exchange

You: I want to eat my landlord.

Alex: Attagirl! Probably don’t do that though.

You: Attagirl? I need your help! This is too much. What’s happening?

Alex: You’re a vampire. That feeling is you wanting to drink his blood.

You: Okay. First, no I’m not. Second, WHAT DO I DO?

Alex: Take a deep breath. Control yourself. You can do it. Brush him off.

Alex: (Also yes you are. 😛 )

You: Did you seriously do the 2002-era tongue sticking out at me?

Alex: You’re right. Would you prefer (^,..,^) ?

You: What’s that supposed to be?

Alex: It’s a vampire. Just like you.

Section 5: Prose

Your landlord knocks again, louder. Your heart’s pumping. You want to rip open the door and sink your fangs—you have fangs?! into his throat. You shout that you’ll have his rent on Friday, that you’re in the shower. He slides a piece of paper under your door. You hear him walk away. In fact, you hear him all the way down four flights of stairs. You hear heartbeats next door.

Section 6: SMS Exchange

You: Heartbeats? I hear heartbeats?

Alex: Survival tool. You need blood. Blood’s in hearts. So, you hear hearts.

You: How do I get blood?

Alex: Come on. That’s a stupid question. 

You: Wait. Why do you know about this vampire stuff? Is this a prank?

Alex: Okay that’s an even stupider question. 

You: No, I get it. I drink blood. You’re a vampire. But, you know. Depth?

Alex: Nobody can tell you how to find blood. You find your own path.

You: This is too complicated.

Alex: Babe you don’t know the half of it. Blood’s the only easy part.

You: What should I do first? This is overwhelming. It’s too much.

Alex: Explore your senses. Go to your roof. Learn your new self and city.

You: Literally? Like, climb my apartment?

Alex: I meant take the elevator but I suppose if you insist.

You: OK

Section 7: Prose

Wisely, you take the elevator. As you overlook the city, your senses burst outward for miles in every direction. You see hundreds of individual faces fifteen stories down. You see what everyone’s watching through every curtain. Most importantly, you see a woman cornered by three men in an alley. They have knives. You feel the hunger grow inside you. These three men picked the wrong night to prey. You message Alex.

Section 8: SMS Exchange

You: I found blood.

Alex: I knew you would. I’m so proud of you. (^,..,^) 

You: Stop doing that. They’re criminals. But it’s still weird. 

Alex: I can’t help it. So are you gonna keep texting me, or will you hunt?

You: I’m on my way down the fire escape now. I can do two things at once.

Alex: That’s why you’ll make a great vampire.

Alex: (^,..,^)

You: Do that again, and you’re next. 

Alex: A feisty one. I should leave you to your meal.

You: I’m gonna do this. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t super weird.

Alex: Welcome to the world of the weird, babe.

You: With my trusted tour guide, Alex…

Alex: Tell you what. Finish and we can meet up afterwards. We’ll gossip.

You: Juicy.

Alex: Already working on those vampire puns? Attagirl.

Dialogue Script 1: Vampire Huntress


You know what I hate about vampires?

The vampire grunts.




You can’t just be happy for someone. Everything’s got to be murder, murder, murder, blood, murder, leather, murder. Get over yourself.


Excuse me? You’re killing me! 

Lana gasps.


Oh my god I never looked at it that way!


See? Now, we’re not so different. You should let me go. 

Lana claps playfully.


Oh oh oh the ‘we’re not so different’ speech! I don’t hear that one often. Keep going.

Brief pause.


Well, um, we both kill people, right?


Do I?




Vampires. Not humans.


Is it really that different?

Vampire sighs.


Okay. It’s different. But, um, we… both go out at night hunting? 


Okay… I see where you’re coming from…


And, well, that’s it. We’re not so different, so you should let me go.


You almost had me there…


Did I?


Kinda? Sorta?


So you’re gonna let me go?


Do you know how we’re different?




I’m getting $1,000 for killing you.


$1,000? That’s not enough to murder someone!


You kill people for free.


Wrong. I kill people for FOOD.


You think I’m not going to spend that money on groceries?

The vampire sighs in defeat. 

Short Fiction: Hero of War

Hannah stood from her chair, then sat back down. She put a hand on the armrest and moved to rise again, but then stayed seated. She removed two folded yellow pages from her purse and put on her glasses. 

“Dear Matthew.” 

She cleared her throat, and produced a pair of black-rimmed glasses from her purse. She put them on and continued reading the folded papers.

“I hope this reaches you. I want to start off by saying I love you. I’m going to say some hurtful things, but you need to know that I love you, and I think I always will. We were stupid kids together. We grew into stupid adults together. I still smile when I think of that night by the county fair, when you gave me that rose. I still have it. It’s pressed in a scrapbook. That night at the county fair, when we walked together and you told me you loved me.”

She smiled earnestly and opened the papers the rest of the way. 

“It’s an awful way to start a letter, isn’t it? Telling you I’m going to say mean things, then following up by telling you about a great memory. Oh well. I was never good with words. 

Matthew, I think I’ve been more than understanding, and more than patient with you. 

Six years ago, you told me you wanted to serve your country. I said no at first, but I understood that it was important to you. I didn’t want to live alone. But you told me it was temporary. I believed you. At least, I believed that you thought that was true. 

I waited for you. 

Every week, I woke up at stupid hours of the night, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for that little window where we could Skype. I sat in bed with my laptop like a giddy schoolgirl, eager to see you and hear your voice. And when the internet broke up, and I just saw pixels that looked a little like your face, I was happy with them.

The calls slowed, but I understood. You were in the desert. You were young. It was too much.

We were together for two years before you deployed. Married for six weeks. Before too long, you were away for longer than we were together. 

Right before our three-year anniversary, you came home. I knew it wouldn’t be for long. I relished every second of it. You told me about the mistake you made with that dancer, and how she meant nothing to you. I believed you. That’s how couples work from afar, isn’t it? Everyone needs a little tenderness. 

A few weeks later, you were on the plane again. I begged you to stay, but I knew it was worthless. I knew you had to go. It was back to Skype. Back to waiting.” 

Hannah turned the first page over, and sat back. She sighed, and started anew. 

“We found out I was pregnant. I knew it was what you wanted. It’s what I wanted. I figured if I couldn’t have you here, I could have that piece of you to keep me company. My mom called me a single mother. I told her to shut up. But that’s what I was. You couldn’t raise him over Skype. You’re just a tourist in his life, Matthew.” 

She paused. 


She shook her head. 

“I hated that you wanted to name him Matthew. I hated that you convinced me to name him Matthew. A kid named after a parent is like tattooing someone’s name on you. It’s a stupid choice that too many people make. 

For almost four years now, I’ve called him Jacob. His middle name. The name I picked. I don’t even know if he knows the name Matthew. I don’t call you Matthew in front of him. To him, you’re “daddy”. Hell Matthew, to me you’re just “daddy”. I barely remember a Matthew. 

And I know what you’re thinking. I’m not writing this to tell you I’ve found someone else. I haven’t. So hear me out. Please. 

I’ve been patient, Matthew. I appreciate that you told me when you were unfaithful. First it was once in two years. Then three times in a year. Then five. I told you to stop telling me. I told you I didn’t care. I told myself I didn’t care. I did. I think you know I did. 

But do you know what I hated most? Your fucking plans. Your schemes. I begged to talk to you for a few minutes every couple of weeks. If I got to talk to you once I month, I was lucky. When we did talk, you wouldn’t shut up about your army buddies, and these great, grand plans you had. About how you’re going to move us all to some town and start a restaurant. Or about how you’re saving up to start a tour guide business and move us to the coast. 

You always had these plans, but they never involved me. They never involved Jacob. Sure, the plan was always “move us along with you”, but you never once asked me how I felt about these stupid plans. You never asked how I felt about the idea of uprooting and leaving my family. They’re retiring soon. I want to take care of them, since my sister’s nowhere to be found. Do you care? Did they fit in with your plans? Don’t answer that. 

I’m tired of hurting, Matthew. I’m tired of being patient. I’m tired of seeing you through a fifteen inch screen. I need a partner. 

The last time I tried to say this to you, you told me it was temporary. You told me how great army wives have it. You told me how life would be on “the base”. I’m not raising my son on a military base. I didn’t sign up to be an army wife: I signed up to be your wife. To have and to hold, remember that?” 

She bit her lower lip and stared at the pages. She then took the top page and cycled it around underneath the other page. 

“You told me how the army would take care of us. How we’d retire early. How you’d go to college. How I could go to college.

I never wanted to be taken care of. I never wanted any of this, and I feel like you never once seriously considered that. I wanted to write. My dad got me a job writing for the paper, but I had to quit because I couldn’t afford daycare. I could have been an editor by now. I could have been taking care of you. We could have been together. You could be trying to get skateboarding sponsorships like you always wanted. Did you give up on that? Can you even skateboard in the desert? 

That hurts, too. You were so good. I loved seeing you on your board. I loved that look on your face when you competed. It was so sexy. So raw. You were just this beautiful, perfect thing, and when you were skating, nothing could bring you down. You gave that up for a gun and a flag. 

I know this must all sound so negative. But I’ve got to write it, because you’ve never listened when I’ve said it. And I’ve said it. You just talked over me, and told me about the next big plan for your future that I was just supposed to ride along for. 

I was supposed to be your partner, Matthew. Not your passenger. 

I can’t be. I won’t be. I deserve better. Or maybe I don’t. But I want better. That’s why I’m writing this.

I know you took a bullet. You get to be the big hero you always wanted to be. I get that. I guess to a degree, I respect that. But heroes leave orphans and widows, and I can’t live that life. When you were leaving, I told you that I didn’t want you to go, because you’d get shot. You told me you wouldn’t. You promised me you wouldn’t. 

And I know I sound ridiculous and shitty because I’m blaming you for the guy that pulled that trigger. I must sound like the worst wife ever. Maybe I am. But you chose to be there. Nobody forced you to go, Matthew Randolph Comstock.”

Hannah looked to the door, then back to the paper. She flipped the page and 

“I’m tired of hurting for you, Matthew. I’m tired of waiting for you. I’m tired of worrying. I’m tired of praying.

I love you. I don’t think I can ever not love you. 

But I can’t live my life for you. I can’t keep hanging on a thread, on a hope, on a maybe. I owe it to Jacob. He doesn’t get a father, so at least he should get a dedicated mother. I can’t be this doting teenage girl anymore. I’m tired of telling the old ladies at the grocery store that I don’t know when you’ll be back. Every time, they tell me you’re not coming back, and that you’re going to find some girl over there, and I should just get over you. Then they give me their grandson’s number. It’d be really cute if it didn’t hurt like hell every time. 

I think deep down, you understand my choice. I hope you don’t hate me. I know I don’t hate you. I have resented you from time to time. I’ve hated the things you’ve done, and I’ve definitely hated the things you put me through. But I’ve never hated you. I hope you respect what I’m doing. 

The first three times I wrote this, I closed with “I’m sorry”. But I can’t apologize. Not anymore. Not this time. 

Goodbye, Matthew.” 

Hannah closed her eyes, folded the letter, and wept. 

“Excuse me, Missus Comstock.” A man in a brown sweater vest cracked open the door and said politely. 

She put up a finger to pause him while she choked back the tears. 

“Miss Mintzer, please.” She took a tissue and blew her nose, then wiped the tears from her face. She stood to face the man. 

“Miss Mintzer.” The man approached. “Your attorney has processed the necessary paperwork. Are you…?” 

Hannah cut him off by putting up a hand then nodding repeatedly. 

She sat back down in her chair, and reached to the bed before her. White sheets, baby blue linens. The figure before her had his hands crossed on his lap. The head was almost completely obscured by extensive bandages, and a pale blue tube coming from the mouth. She put her hand on his and squeezed lightly. 

“Do you need a moment?” The man said. 

She shook her head. “No. Now, please.” She swallowed hard and failed to fight back more tears.

The man nodded once, then walked to a machine next to the bed. He flipped a sequence of switches, and the machine stopped whirring and humming. Hannah’s head fell onto Matthew’s chest, and the sobbing became wailing. Her glasses fell off her face and tumbled along the cold marble floor. The man took Matthew’s wrist between his fingers, and watched his wristwatch. 

“My condolences, Miss Mintzer.” He left the room the way he came.

Sample Commercial: Jack in the Box


GENERAL stands on a large stone overlooking an army of medieval warriors with swords, shields, and spears. His sword is raised to the sky, inspiring. There is a second stone next to his.


We few!

We happy few!

We bag of BURGERS!

Cut to crowd, confused, whispering among themselves, giving upset, confused, and disgusted faces.


Is there a PROBLEM?

Cut to crowd. One SOLDIER, clean-cut, kind of dorky, in glasses despite his medieval armor, puts his hand up.


Um, yes, sir. I don’t think that’s how the speech goes.

The GENERAL is visibly aghast.


Not how the speech goes? I WROTE the speech!

The crowd whispers and is confused again. JACK emerges from the crowd, in medieval armor, but wearing his trademark mask. He clumsily climbs the stone next to GENERAL.


Hank’s right.

Cut to the crowd, who reacts with surprise and confusion again. Some point at JACK and whisper among each other.


With my five for five deal, you can get five classic cheeseburgers for five dollars.

JACK dramatically raises his voice. We see five burgers, a drink, and fries on white background pan the screen.

Or ten for ten dollars!

JACK raises his voice even higher, and raises his sword in the air. It’s gray foam. We see a stack of ten burgers, two drinks, and two fries on white background, static.

Or five hundred for five hundred dollars!

We then see a comically large stack of burgers on white. Fade back to the crowd, who still seems confused, not inspired.


And that, my band of brothers, is enough to feed an army! For a price that won’t lose to the French!

The crowd cheers and shouts, raising their weapons to the sky.

Cut to five burgers, fries, and a drink on white background, with “5 for $5” and the Jack in the Box logo.