Some films were built slowly—through committees, studio approvals, corporate risk assessments, and months of negotiations that sanded every interesting edge off the final product.
Other movies were accidents.
Squeal was something stranger.
Squeal existed for one very simple reason:
Oliver Kushmore thought it would be funny.
Which, historically speaking, had been the origin point for most Mount Kushmore Productions projects.
Oliver Kushmore had never intended to become a movie mogul.
That part had happened gradually.
The first Mount Kushmore production had been little more than a deranged parody pitch thrown out during a smoke-filled brainstorming session. The second had only been greenlit because the first somehow made money. The third happened because actors kept calling Oliver and asking whether they could come do something ridiculous for a weekend.
Before long, Mount Kushmore Productions had built a reputation across Hollywood.
Not for prestige.
Not for awards.
But for something much rarer in the modern film industry.
Fun.
Actors who worked with Oliver understood the arrangement.
The scripts were insane.
The sets were relaxed.
The jokes were stupid in a way that was often strangely brilliant.
And the experience was almost always memorable.
Which was exactly how Squeal began.
It started with a single question Oliver asked himself late one night while scrolling through horror forums, fan threads, and arguments that had somehow been going uninterrupted for years.
A question fans had been circling for decades.
What if all the actors from the franchise just… showed up in the same movie as themselves?
Not as their characters.
As themselves.
Actors playing heightened versions of their public personas while a masked killer hunted them through a story that gleefully fed on fan theories, franchise baggage, and decades of slasher logic.
It was the kind of idea that usually died in a development meeting.
Studios hated risk.
Studios hated legal complications.
Studios hated meta humor unless it could be focus-grouped into being harmless.
But Oliver Kushmore had an advantage most producers did not.
He owned the studio.
Mount Kushmore Productions had started small, but by the late 2020s it had turned into a genuinely profitable independent operation with its own sound stages, editing bays, office suites, and distribution deals.
More importantly, it had Oliver’s money.
Which meant that if Oliver wanted to make something deranged, expensive, and deeply unnecessary, there was no executive alive with enough power to stop him.
So he did what Oliver always did when he had a chaotic idea.
He started making phone calls.
Agents were the first obstacle.
Agents were professionally conditioned to say no to unusual pitches.
But Oliver had learned something useful about Hollywood over the years.
Actors loved weird projects if the tone was right.
And the pitch for Squeal was simple.
Everyone would play themselves.
The movie would lovingly parody the entire franchise.
And the script would be built around the most popular fan theories people had been debating online for years.
The reaction from the first few actors had been surprisingly positive.
The reaction from the next several had been enthusiastic.
By the time Oliver finished his tenth phone call, the project had already taken on a strange kind of momentum.
Actors were calling each other.
Agents were comparing notes.
People were asking questions like:
“Wait… are you actually doing this?”
“Is everyone coming back?”
“Can I die in it?”
That last question came up more than once.
In fact, it came up so often that Oliver eventually started laughing every time someone asked it.
Because apparently the opportunity to die in a ridiculous meta horror movie was extremely appealing to actors who had spent years discussing horror movies at conventions.
The final ingredient came from the fans themselves.
Over time, internet discussions had generated thousands of speculative theories about the franchise.
Who should have died.
Who should have been the killer.
What twists would have broken the audience in half.
Oliver realized something while reading those threads.
Theories were fun because they let fans imagine alternate versions of the story.
Squeal would simply let those possibilities exist.
It would not rewrite the original canon.
It would not contradict what came before.
It would exist as a chaotic alternate playground where actors and fans could laugh at decades of horror tropes together.
Which was how Oliver eventually found himself standing in the middle of a conference room at Mount Kushmore Productions, looking at a situation that had spiraled far beyond anything he originally imagined.
Because when Oliver had first pictured bringing the cast together for a meeting, he had imagined something manageable.
A dozen people, maybe.
A table read.
Some polite discussion about character arcs.
What he got instead was something much closer to a full franchise reunion.
Actors from multiple generations of the series had filled the conference room.
Some sat at the table.
Others leaned against the walls.
A few had already claimed the couch near the windows like squatters who had no intention of ever leaving.
Coffee cups, script pages, phones, and prop knives had somehow ended up scattered across almost every available surface. Someone had placed a Ghostface mask in the center of the table like a decorative centerpiece, which made the whole room feel less like a production meeting and more like an intervention for horror addicts.
At the front of the room, Oliver Kushmore stood with a marker and legal pad.
Trying to run what was, in theory, a professional meeting.
It lasted approximately forty seconds before the chaos began.
Oliver cleared his throat.
“Alright,” he said.
The room quieted a little.
He looked around at the assembled cast—actors who had collectively shaped one of the most recognizable horror franchises in movie history.
And now they were all here.
Together.
For a movie that technically should not have existed.
Oliver smiled.
“First things first,” he said. “You’re all playing yourselves.”
Several people nodded.
Some flipped through their scripts.
A few were already grinning.
Oliver continued.
“But they’re… heightened versions of you.”
Jamie Kennedy raised an eyebrow.
“So like… the internet versions?”
Oliver pointed at him.
“Exactly.”
A few people laughed.
Oliver tapped the script on the table.
“And there’s one other important rule.”
He paused.
The room leaned in.
“Not everybody can die first.”
For half a second, the room was silent.
Then everyone started talking at once.
“That’s bullshit,” Jamie Kennedy said immediately.
“You literally invited us here to get murdered,” Matthew Lillard added.
“Yeah,” David Arquette said, pointing at Oliver. “That was the pitch.”
Oliver raised both hands.
“People will die,” he said. “But not everybody can die first.”
Across the table, Drew Barrymore calmly raised her hand.
That, more than anything, somehow made the room settle.
Drew leaned forward.
“Look,” she said. “Let’s just acknowledge the obvious. My character died first in the original movie.”
Several heads nodded.
“Iconic opening,” Neve Campbell said.
“Legendary,” Courteney Cox added.
Drew smiled.
“So if we’re doing this meta thing, how poetic would it be if movie-me died first again?”
A few people considered that.
“That actually works,” Jamie admitted.
“Yeah,” Skeet Ulrich said. “Full circle.”
Oliver wrote DREW on his legal pad.
Then immediately crossed it out.
“No.”
Drew blinked.
“No?”
“No,” Oliver said. “Everyone would expect it.”
Courteney leaned forward.
“Then it should be me.”
The room turned.
Jamie frowned.
“Why you?”
Courteney folded her arms.
“Because I’m literally the only person here besides Neve who survived every single movie.”
A pause.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
David nodded slowly.
“…That’s actually true.”
Skeet pointed across the table.
“That would shock people.”
Jamie leaned back.
“That’s a strong argument.”
Oliver scribbled COURTENEY – POSSIBLE.
From the couch, Matthew Lillard raised his hand like an eager student.
“I volunteer.”
Jamie groaned.
“Of course you do.”
Matthew spread his arms dramatically.
“If you kill me early, the audience panics.”
Skeet rolled his eyes.
“You just want a huge death scene.”
“Yes,” Matthew said proudly.
Across the room Melissa Barrera raised a hand.
“Honestly, maybe it should be me.”
Beside her, Jenna Ortega nodded.
“Or me.”
Jamie blinked.
“You two just got here.”
“Exactly,” Jenna said.
“Unexpected.”
Melissa shrugged.
“Killing one of us early would really hurt fans.”
Mason Gooding leaned forward.
“I could die.”
Jasmin Savoy Brown nodded.
“That would definitely upset people.”
Jamie looked around the room.
“Guys, this isn’t a competition.”
Matthew pointed at him.
“It absolutely is.”
From the back, Hayden Panettiere spoke up.
“What if Kirby dies first?”
Several people gasped.
Matthew laughed.
“That would be brutal.”
Hayden shrugged.
“That’s the point.”
Oliver’s legal pad was filling quickly.
Names.
Arrows.
Question marks.
Then someone from the newer group raised a hand.
Ethan Embry.
“What if,” he said cautiously, “I just quietly die in the background?”
The room blinked.
Jamie frowned.
“…What?”
Ethan shrugged.
“I’m just there one minute. Then suddenly I’m dead.”
A pause.
Jenna leaned forward.
“Oh.”
She smiled.
“That’s actually good.”
Melissa nodded.
“That would make everyone suspicious.”
“Exactly,” Ethan said. “People would think I’m the killer.”
Oliver wrote ETHAN – BACKGROUND RED HERRING.
Across the table Skeet raised a hand.
“In that case, I should also be a red herring.”
Jamie snorted.
“You don’t say.”
Skeet shrugged.
“Fans already expect me to be suspicious.”
“That’s fair,” Oliver said, writing it down.
From the back Anna Camp spoke up.
“If we’re talking about surprising people, maybe I die immediately.”
Beside her Joel McHale nodded.
“That would definitely catch people off guard.”
Across the couch Isabel May raised a hand.
“What if the audience thinks I’m important… and then I die in like ten minutes?”
Asa Germann leaned forward.
“Or we all look suspicious and none of us die.”
Jamie laughed.
“That’s just chaos.”
The room erupted again.
Now people were pitching deaths like they were in an improv workshop for the most deranged possible murder board.
“Balcony fall!”
“Chainsaw!”
“Chandelier!”
“Woodchipper,” Matthew added helpfully.
Oliver rubbed his forehead.
Then Jack Champion leaned forward.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”
The room quieted.
Jack pointed across the table at Dermot Mulroney.
“What if we die at a horror convention?”
Dermot blinked.
“…What?”
Jack shrugged.
“You and me are signing autographs.”
Matthew immediately sat up.
“Oh my God.”
Jack continued.
“And then Scream-Face shows up.”
Jenna leaned forward.
“Everyone thinks it’s a cosplayer.”
“Exactly,” Jack said. “So nobody realizes it’s real.”
The room started laughing.
Dermot folded his arms.
“So I’m just sitting there signing pictures…”
Jack nodded.
“And then you get stabbed.”
Matthew slapped the table.
“That’s incredible.”
Jamie laughed.
“Fans would literally be taking selfies.”
Jasmin added, “They’d be cheering.”
Oliver quickly wrote CONVENTION DEATH – JACK / DERMOT.
“That’s actually really good,” he said.
Jack leaned back proudly.
“See?”
Dermot sighed.
“I should have read the script more carefully.”
Across the table Jamie Kennedy suddenly sat upright.
“Wait a minute.”
The room turned.
Jamie pointed at the script.
“Why do I survive?”
The room paused.
Oliver blinked.
“…What?”
Jamie pointed again.
“My character lives.”
Matthew burst out laughing.
“That’s hilarious.”
Jamie crossed his arms.
“No it isn’t.”
Oliver shrugged.
“You get a fake-out.”
Jamie froze.
“A what?”
“A fake-out death,” Oliver said. “You almost die. Everyone panics. Then you survive.”
The room erupted with laughter.
Jamie stared at him.
“So everyone else gets murdered…”
He gestured around the room.
“…and I get a fake-out?”
Oliver smiled.
“Your character is also mad he survives.”
Jamie paused.
Then sighed.
“…Okay, that’s actually kind of funny.”
Matthew wiped tears from his eyes.
“That’s incredible.”
Oliver looked down at the legal pad.
The meeting had started as a script discussion.
Now the script was practically writing itself.
And they still had not even talked about the killer.
Eventually the room began to settle—not because the debate was over, but because people were running out of new ways to pitch their own fictional deaths.
Oliver’s legal pad looked like a detective wall in a conspiracy thriller.
Names.
Arrows.
Asterisks.
“RED HERRING” written in three different places.
At the center of the page, circled twice, was one note:
MATTHEW – BIG EARLY DEATH
Matthew noticed it.
“Hey,” he said, pointing. “I like how that’s the only thing you’ve underlined.”
Oliver shrugged.
“You negotiated for something spectacular.”
“Fair.”
Across the table Melissa flipped through the script again.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “If all of this is happening… how does the killer twist work?”
Several people paused.
Jenna leaned forward.
“Yeah. Because the script says the killer is—”
She stopped herself.
The room glanced toward Neve Campbell.
Everyone knew the twist.
They just had not fully said it out loud yet.
Jamie did it for them.
“Neve is Scream-Face.”
The room went quiet again.
Matthew leaned back.
“Yeah, that’s the part I’m still trying to process.”
Skeet nodded.
“Because the whole movie we’re basically playing ourselves.”
“And Sidney has been the hero of this franchise for thirty years,” Courteney added.
David rubbed his chin.
“So how exactly does that work?”
Jasmin flipped through her script again.
“Does the audience know it’s her the whole time?”
Oliver shook his head.
“No.”
“Then how—”
Oliver raised a finger.
“Oh,” he said casually. “I’ve got that figured out.”
Jamie squinted at him.
“That sentence worries me.”
Oliver tapped the script.
“The whole premise is blending fiction and reality,” he said. “You’re all playing versions of yourselves, not literal documentary versions. These are heightened versions.”
Matthew nodded.
“So basically… the internet versions of us.”
“Exactly.”
Melissa leaned forward.
“So the audience accepts that the movie isn’t literal reality.”
“Right.”
Jenna tilted her head.
“But Neve being the killer is still a huge shift.”
Across the table, Neve finally spoke.
“You know,” she said calmly, “I’m actually really excited about it.”
Jamie blinked.
“…Wait, what?”
Neve smiled.
“Think about it.”
She leaned forward.
“Do you know how many fans online have joked about Sidney snapping one day?”
Several people chuckled.
Jamie nodded slowly.
“…A lot.”
“Exactly,” Neve said. “For years people have joked about what would happen if Sidney finally broke.”
Matthew laughed.
“Oh my God.”
Neve shrugged.
“I’ve spent decades playing the final girl.”
She gestured toward the script.
“This lets me do something different.”
Jenna grinned.
“A villain.”
Neve’s smile widened.
“Something like that.”
Hayden nodded from the couch.
“That’s actually really cool.”
Skeet leaned back.
“Yeah, fans are going to lose their minds.”
David laughed.
“They’ve been rooting for Sidney for thirty years.”
Matthew pointed at Oliver.
“You’re basically weaponizing nostalgia.”
Oliver shrugged.
“Cinema.”
Melissa flipped another page.
“So what motivates her?”
Oliver tapped the script again.
“She’s not a cartoon villain.”
Neve nodded.
“That was important to me.”
The room leaned in.
“She’s someone who spent decades surviving violence,” Neve said. “Eventually that does something to a person.”
The room quieted further.
Jamie spoke softly.
“That’s actually kind of dark.”
Neve nodded.
“Exactly.”
Matthew leaned forward again.
“So she just… snaps?”
Oliver shook his head.
“No.”
He smiled a little.
“She plans.”
Several actors exchanged looks.
“That’s terrifying,” Jenna said.
Courteney laughed.
“You’ve created a monster.”
Neve shrugged playfully.
“I’ve been waiting thirty years for a promotion.”
The room burst out laughing.
Jamie pointed at her.
“Fans are going to argue about this twist forever.”
Skeet nodded.
“Oh yeah.”
Melissa grinned.
“That’s the best part.”
Oliver looked down at the legal pad again.
The movie had started as a loose idea.
A meta horror comedy.
Now it had something sharper.
A killer twist the actors themselves were genuinely excited about.
He underlined another name on the page.
NEVE – SCREAM-FACE
Matthew leaned over the table to look.
“Oh, this is going to be insane.”
Oliver shrugged.
“That’s the goal.”
From the far side of the room Anna Camp raised a hand.
“Okay, but if Neve is the killer… how exactly does she kill all of us?”
The room paused.
Matthew grinned.
“Oh good.”
He cracked his knuckles.
“We’re back to the fun part.”
Oliver sighed.
“Of course we are.”
The moment Anna asked the question, the room sprang back to life.
Matthew clapped his hands together.
“Okay, but seriously,” he said, pointing at Neve, “how are you actually killing me?”
Neve leaned back in her chair.
“Oh, I have ideas.”
The room laughed.
Oliver flipped his legal pad to a fresh page.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s hear them.”
Matthew raised his hand like an overeager child.
“I want something big.”
“You always want something big,” Jamie said.
Matthew pointed at the script.
“You said I die early. That means I set the tone. I’m talking spectacular.”
Skeet folded his arms.
“What exactly does ‘spectacular’ mean?”
Matthew started counting on his fingers.
“Explosion.”
Jamie shook his head.
“No explosions.”
“Fire?”
“No.”
Matthew looked around the room.
“Chainsaw.”
Jenna laughed.
“That escalated fast.”
Oliver wrote MATTHEW – BIG OPENING SETPIECE.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Across the table Drew leaned in again.
“If we’re talking about tone, maybe my death should still happen early.”
Oliver sighed.
“Drew—”
“I’m just saying, I started the franchise with a shocking opening.”
Matthew nodded.
“She’s got a point.”
Skeet pointed at Oliver.
“You’re fighting decades of horror tradition here.”
Oliver rubbed his forehead.
“We’ll consider it.”
He wrote DREW – POSSIBLE EARLY MOMENT.
Jack leaned forward again.
“Okay, but the convention idea still works.”
Dermot groaned quietly.
Jack ignored him.
“Imagine it. We’re sitting there signing posters. Scream-Face walks up.”
Jenna nodded.
“Everyone thinks it’s a fan.”
“Exactly,” Jack said.
Melissa laughed.
“People would be asking for selfies.”
Jasmin added, “They’d be cheering.”
Dermot leaned back.
“So I’m just signing autographs…”
Jack nodded.
“And then you get stabbed.”
Matthew slapped the table.
“That’s amazing.”
Jamie laughed.
“That’s the most messed-up thing I’ve ever heard.”
Oliver wrote CONVENTION KILL – JACK / DERMOT again, this time underlined.
“That’s staying.”
Hayden raised a hand.
“If Kirby dies, it should be during something heroic.”
Skeet nodded.
“Yeah, that tracks.”
Hayden shrugged.
“Like I’m trying to stop the killer.”
Jamie pointed.
“That’s actually emotional.”
Oliver wrote KIRBY – HEROIC ATTEMPT.
Joel McHale leaned forward.
“I still think someone should die immediately.”
Anna Camp nodded.
“Shock value.”
Joel shrugged.
“You introduce me…”
He snapped his fingers.
“Boom. Dead.”
Jamie laughed.
“That’s savage.”
Across the couch Isabel raised a hand.
“What if the audience thinks I’m important… and then I die ten minutes later?”
Matthew nodded approvingly.
“That’s classic horror pacing.”
Oliver scribbled ISABEL – EARLY BAIT.
Asa leaned forward.
“I think the audience should suspect me.”
Jamie laughed.
“Everyone suspects everyone in these movies.”
“Exactly,” Asa said.
Oliver wrote ASA – SUSPICIOUS ENERGY.
Then Matthew leaned forward again.
“Okay, but seriously. How do you actually kill me?”
The room quieted.
Neve considered him.
“Well,” she said casually, “you’re loud.”
Matthew blinked.
“…What?”
Neve shrugged.
“You draw attention.”
Jamie nodded.
“That’s accurate.”
Neve continued.
“So maybe Scream-Face stalks you while you’re performing.”
Matthew leaned in.
“Performing what?”
Neve smiled.
“You.”
Matthew paused.
“…Oh.”
Jamie broke first, laughing hard.
“Oh, that’s perfect.”
Skeet nodded.
“You’re basically getting murdered mid-Matthew.”
Oliver wrote MATTHEW – PERFORMANCE KILL?
Matthew leaned back slowly.
“I’m strangely okay with this.”
Melissa spoke again.
“What about group scenes? Some kills should happen in chaos.”
Jenna nodded.
“Yeah. Not all of them should feel isolated.”
Oliver pointed at them.
“Good note.”
He wrote GROUP CHAOS MOMENT.
David leaned forward.
“What if I die trying to protect someone?”
Courteney raised an eyebrow.
“You always do that.”
David shrugged.
“It’s my thing.”
Oliver wrote DAVID – HERO MOMENT.
Jamie looked around the room.
“This is the weirdest murder brainstorming session I’ve ever been part of.”
Matthew pointed at Oliver.
“You started it.”
Oliver looked down at the legal pad again.
It was full.
Names.
Scenes.
Ideas.
The script had started as a rough outline.
Now it looked like a murder map.
He shook his head.
“This meeting was supposed to be about scheduling.”
Matthew grinned.
“Instead we invented half the movie.”
Oliver sighed.
“…Apparently.”
Across the room Neve leaned back in her chair, watching the chaos, watching everyone enthusiastically design their own fictional deaths, and smiling.
Because the strangest part of the entire meeting was this:
Everyone was genuinely excited.
Not because they were dying.
Because they were doing something ridiculous together.
Oliver finally set the marker down.
“Okay,” he said. “I think we’ve got enough murders for one movie.”
Matthew raised a finger.
“Counterpoint.”
Oliver closed his eyes.
Matthew grinned.
“Never enough murders.”
The room burst out laughing again.
And Oliver realized something.
This wasn’t just a production meeting.
It was a celebration.
Eventually the chaos burned itself out—not because anyone ran out of ideas, but because people were laughing too hard to continue.
Oliver’s legal pad was full.
Names.
Arrows.
Death scenes.
Red herrings.
At the center of it all were two notes circled repeatedly:
MATTHEW – BIG EARLY DEATH
NEVE – SCREAM-FACE
Oliver looked down at the page and shook his head.
“This meeting,” he said slowly, “was supposed to be about scheduling.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair.
“And instead we invented the movie.”
Several actors laughed.
Jamie pointed at Oliver.
“You realize half this script didn’t exist two hours ago.”
Oliver nodded.
“Yeah.”
He looked around the room.
Actors from nearly every era of the franchise were still scattered across the conference room.
Some were flipping through scripts.
Others were still pitching ridiculous death ideas under their breath.
Near the window Jenna and Melissa were laughing about the convention kill. Across the room Jack Champion and Dermot Mulroney were still debating whether fans would notice if someone got stabbed while taking selfies. At the table Courteney was teasing David about his heroic death idea.
And near the end of the couch, Neve sat quietly watching the room.
Smiling.
Because the strange thing about the entire meeting was how natural it felt.
No studio pressure.
No executives hovering.
Just a room full of actors who had spent years connected to the same story, now laughing about it together.
Matthew leaned forward and looked at Oliver’s legal pad.
“You know,” he said, “this is actually kind of beautiful.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not a word I expected to hear today.”
Matthew pointed around the room.
“Look at this.”
Oliver glanced up.
Actors from different eras of the franchise were still joking, talking, arguing, and trading murder pitches like kids at summer camp with better agents.
Matthew shrugged.
“You got everybody back.”
Oliver smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
Matthew nodded.
“That’s not easy.”
Oliver leaned against the table.
“I just asked them.”
Matthew laughed.
“You make it sound simple.”
Oliver shrugged.
“Most of them said yes before I finished the pitch.”
Matthew looked around the room again.
“Because the idea is fun.”
He gestured toward the scripts.
“A horror movie where we all play ourselves and get hunted by Scream-Face?”
He grinned.
“That’s the kind of chaos actors live for.”
Across the room Jamie suddenly shouted, “Hey, Oliver!”
Oliver looked up.
Jamie pointed at the script.
“If my fake-out death scene isn’t dramatic enough, I’m rewriting it myself.”
Matthew laughed.
“See?”
He looked back at Oliver.
“Everyone’s invested.”
Oliver nodded slowly.
That part was true.
He had expected curiosity.
Maybe some polite enthusiasm.
What he had not expected was this.
Everyone seemed genuinely excited.
Because the movie was not trying to replace the original story.
It was celebrating it.
Matthew stood and stretched.
“Well,” he said, “I think we’ve officially broken your meeting.”
Oliver glanced down at the legal pad one last time.
“That happened about forty minutes ago.”
People began gathering their things.
Scripts.
Coffee cups.
Phones.
Actors said their goodbyes while still laughing about the ideas that had been pitched.
A few stopped by Oliver on the way out.
“Don’t cut my death scene.”
“Make mine weird.”
“Please don’t let me die offscreen.”
Oliver nodded to each of them.
Eventually the room emptied.
Within fifteen minutes, the conference room was quiet.
Only two people remained.
Matthew Lillard and Oliver Kushmore.
Matthew stretched again and nodded toward the hallway.
“Smoke break?”
Oliver didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
Outside the Mount Kushmore studio building, the night air was cool and the lot was mostly quiet. Most of the crew had already gone home. In the distance, the massive Mount Kushmore sign rose above the property—a stylized mountain of cannabis leaves that subtly formed the outline of Oliver’s face.
Matthew noticed Oliver looking at it.
“That is still the weirdest studio logo in Hollywood.”
Oliver shrugged.
“Brand identity.”
Matthew laughed.
They leaned against the railing outside the building.
Oliver lit a joint, took a slow drag, then handed it to Matthew.
Matthew took a hit and exhaled toward the night sky.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
From somewhere inside the building, faint laughter still drifted out.
The cast was hanging around.
Not rushing home.
Still talking.
Still enjoying themselves.
Matthew glanced back toward the studio.
“You think fans are going to love this thing?”
Oliver considered it.
Then shrugged.
“I hope so.”
Matthew nodded, handing the joint back.
“As long as everyone’s having fun, that’s the important part.”
Oliver smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
He took another drag.
Smoke drifted up into the dark.
After a moment Matthew nudged him.
“So what happens if this thing actually blows up?”
Oliver grinned.
“Oh, I’ve got plans.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow.
“Do tell.”
Oliver leaned back against the railing.
“If Squeal does well…”
He smirked.
“…I’m coming for the Wayans brothers next.”
Matthew laughed immediately.
“Oh my God.”
Oliver shrugged.
“Scary Movie had a good run.”
Matthew shook his head.
“You’re going to start a parody war.”
Oliver took another hit.
Then smiled.
“Cinema.”
