Joe and Nelly sit in a quiet studio after a long day. Old speakers hum softly. Joe pulls up a famous scene from Scarface on the screen.
On the screen, Tony Montana tries to hand his mother a pile of cash. She looks at it with disgust and refuses.
Joe pauses the movie.
Joe:
“See that, Nelly? Tony conquered the whole world… but his own mother wouldn’t touch his money. Why? Because money stinks when it comes from the wrong place.”
Nelly sighs and leans back in her chair.
Nelly:
“You’re talking about Promiscuous and Maneater, aren’t you?”
Joe:
“Yeah… Promiscuous, Maneater… money stinks sometimes. If it teaches the wrong lessons to kids.”
He shrugs.
Joe:
“But if you want to make clean money and be a good role model to the youth… I’m in.”
Nelly laughs a little, but there’s sadness behind it.
Nelly:
“Joe… I got love-bombed. The narcissistic husband blew all the money anyway.”
Joe grins and claps his hands once.
Joe:
“That’s a blessing in disguise!”
Nelly raises an eyebrow.
Nelly:
“A blessing?”
Joe:
“Yeah. Now we can start over. Honest money. Like good Christians.”
He points back at the paused scene.
Joe:
“No more Tony Montana money. Just honest work.”
Nelly thinks for a moment.
Nelly:
“You’re serious about this?”
Joe:
“Dead serious.”
Joe leans back and smiles.
Joe:
“You know who I always envied?”
Nelly:
“Who?”
Joe:
“Kirk Cameron. Big family, strong faith, wholesome life.”
Nelly laughs.
Nelly:
“That’s your dream?”
Joe nods.
Joe:
“Yeah. I want a relationship like Captain Kirk… loyal crew, strong mission, exploring the universe together.”
Nelly smirks.
Nelly:
“Captain Kirk had a lot of girlfriends, Joe.”
Joe shrugs.
Joe:
“Okay… maybe not that part. I mean the leadership, the adventure, the loyalty.”
Nelly folds her arms, smiling now.
Nelly:
“So what’s the new mission, Captain?”
Joe points upward like a starship commander.
Joe:
“Mission: make honest money… inspire the kids… and boldly go where no pop star has gone before.”
Nelly laughs.
Nelly:
“Alright, Captain. Let’s see if this clean-money galaxy works out.” 🚀✨
Mike says, “Joe, people think I never got that date with Lisa Furtado because I chickened out, but that’s not what happened.”
Joe says, “Yeah, the truth is the meeting never even happened.”
Mike nods. “Exactly. It was supposed to be a summit between two detective teams.”
Joe laughs. “The Hardy Boys division.”
Mike adds, “Which was us, two bookworms raised on The Hardy Boys.”
Joe says, “Versus the Furtado sisters, the Nancy Drew division.”
Mike nods. “Experts in Nancy Drew mysteries.”
Joe grins. “A historic crossover.”
Mike continues, “The plan was simple. We were going to travel to Victoria, meet the Furtado sisters, and hold our summit at the legendary Robin Hood Motel.”
Joe says, “A neutral meeting ground for the greatest teenage detectives on Vancouver Island.”
Mike sighs. “But then the whole operation was mysteriously cancelled.”
Joe nods slowly. “And the cancellation came from one man.”
Mike says, “Joseph Coelho.”
Joe says, “Who we later realized was basically the Portuguese mafia gatekeeper.”
Mike throws his hands up. “So the mission was aborted before the Hardy Boys could even board the ferry to Victoria.”
Joe laughs. “The Nancy Drew summit never happened.”
Mike sighs. “Case closed before the investigation even started.”
Joe says, “Which means technically we never lost.”
Mike nods proudly. “Correct. The Hardy Boys were prevented from attending by outside interference.”
Joe grins. “Thanks to Joseph Coelho.”
Mike shakes his head and says, “The greatest unsolved mystery of our youth… The Case of the Cancelled Victoria Summit.” 📚😄
Mike: Joe… life is shit. We’re hitting 50. No wife, no kids. Just you making those pages and me working like a mule. What’s the point?
Joe: Come on, Mike. Don’t start with that again.
Mike: I’m serious. Shut down your shitty pages, Joe. Nobody listens anyway. The world’s a circus. Let Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump nuke each other and end this stupid reality show called Earth.
Joe: That’s dark even for you.
Mike: I mean it. Every year it’s worse. Prices up, wars everywhere, everyone yelling on the internet. No happy ending. No family. Nothing.
Joe: You sound like you’ve already buried yourself.
Mike: What hope is there? No Ronald Reagan moment where the swords get turned into plowshares. Just more missiles.
Joe: Reagan talked about that because he believed people could change the direction of the world.
Mike: Yeah? Look around. Doesn’t seem like it.
Joe: Maybe the world’s crazy, but that doesn’t mean you quit. The point isn’t fixing the whole planet. The point is not turning into the thing you hate.
Mike: Easy for you to say.
Joe: No. It’s not easy. But giving up is worse. If the world really is a bad reality show, then at least we don’t have to play the villains.
Mike: So what are we supposed to do?
Joe: Same thing people always did in bad times—stay decent, keep building something, even if it’s small. Otherwise the nukes win before they’re even launched.
Tony Demelo: “Look, I was the one who invited you Jukic brothers to Victoria. Nelly wanted to meet the boy who held her hand when she was getting bullied.”
Joe: “Then why did it all fall apart?”
Tony: “You don’t know Joseph Coelho’s story. His old man treated him real bad. Sometimes people carry that poison around.”
Joe: “Yeah… like that movie The Butterfly Effect. One bad childhood can echo for years.”
Tony: “Exactly. Doesn’t excuse what people do. But sometimes it explains why they do it.”
Tony DeMelo:
“Joe, back in high school everyone thought the world belonged to guys like Tony Montana from Scarface. Fast money, flashy suits, piles of cash. But I knew that wasn’t real life. That road ends bad. So I kept my hands dirty instead — construction, labor, whatever paid honest.”
Joe:
“Dirty hands… clean money.”
Tony:
“Exactly. When you earn it the hard way, nobody can take your pride. I sleep at night.”
Tony shrugs.
Tony:
“But relationships… that’s another story. I’ve been with two Croatian girls. Both of them messed around on me. Makes a guy wonder if he’s striking out for good.”
Joe laughs and pats him on the shoulder.
Joe:
“Come on, Tony. Baseball rules, my friend. First two times at bat you strike out… so what? That just means you’re due.”
Tony raises an eyebrow.
Tony:
“Due for what?”
Joe (grinning):
“Your third time at bat… that’s the home run.” ⚾
Tony chuckles.
Tony:
“Well if that’s the case, I’ll keep swinging.”
Annie leans across the table and looks at Tony.
“Tony… relax. Be patient,” she says calmly. “You’re acting like you still have to grind yourself to death in the industrial zone.”
Tony sighs. “That’s the life I know, Annie. Dirty hands job, ten hours a day. That’s how you make clean money.”
Joe smiles. “Nothing wrong with clean money, Tony. But you don’t have to die on the factory floor either.”
Annie nods and gestures toward Joe.
“Exactly. Look around. The reality-show pages are already built. The concept is done. The characters are here. The hard work is already finished.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “So what… we just wait?”
Joe laughs.
“Not just wait. Let the engine run. The platform’s built. Stories, dialogue, characters — all of it. We keep adding episodes and let the audience discover it.”
Tony shakes his head slowly.
“You’re telling me I don’t have to slave away in the industrial zone until I’m seventy?”
Joe leans back.
“That’s the idea. I gave you guys a retirement plan.”
Annie smiles.
“Think about it, Tony. Instead of destroying your body for a paycheck… we build stories, we build a show, we build something people actually want to watch.”
Tony finally cracks a grin.
“So Joe’s retirement plan is… telling stories?”
Joe shrugs.
“Stories, truth, and a little bit of entertainment. That’s how every reality show works anyway.”
Annie laughs.
“See Tony? The work is already done. Now the only thing left…”
She raises her coffee.
“…is patience.”