The Secret Behind ABC’s Lost!

Hi, I’m Gary.
I write Lost for ABC TV.
Also, I fucking hate my goddamn dad, and women are the devil.
I know, ABC tells everyone that Lost was created and written by three other guys, apparently they are more “press savvy” so ABC stuck their names on my show. Whatever.
Anyways, people are always asking me, “Hey Gary, how’d you come up with the idea for Lost?”. (Unless they’re a chick, then they’re asking me “Hey Gary, why is your dick so small? Give me some money you asshole! I fucking hate you, I HATE YOU GARY!!!”) The truth is that I just woke up one morning and was like, “Where the fuck is all my stuff?“
See, my girlfriend, Angela and I had had some fight about what a bitch she was for always hitting on my friends, and using a really castrating tone of voice with me on the phone. She said she’d had enough of my “paranoia”, and I told her if she had a brother who wasn’t dead she’d probably fuck him, too. (ps, Why is it that anytime you’re not a BLIND FOOL some bitch is there to accuse you of being paranoid?) I guess she can dish it out, but she can’t take it, because she started crying and when I woke up the next day she had left with everything, including MY STUFF.
So I’m sitting on the floor of my apartment, eating a bowl of dry raisin bran, and I start thinking about what a goddamned asshole my Dad is. I mean, that guy really sucks. You know when I was 12 we went camping and he left me in the middle of the woods while he screwed a park service lady. I was alone for 3 hours with nothing but my swiss army knife and the shit in my shorts. When he came back I was crying, so he held a gun to my head and asked me if I was a jackyll or hawk. How do you answer that?? He kept spinning the barrel over and over until I said a hawk and he let me go. When I was graduating from college I asked him why he did that and he told me that questions were a fool’s currency. Fuck that guy.
So I’m sitting there thinking about my dad, and Angela, and how I should have bought a dog instead of getting involved with another girl. I mean, it’s the same story every time — as soon as you show a girl you care about her, she cuts your dick off and puts it in your hand. The first time I got a handjob, the girl — this really hot senior who used to babysit my little brother — told me I did it wrong. How can you get a handjob wrong? I still don’t know what she meant, and it’s really fucked me up. You know how hard it is to get it up after someone tells you something like that? Really hard. Why can’t women just give it a rest? Why can’t they be like Asian chicks — all super hot and worried about making guys happy?
So I’m thinking about all that, and I get a call from my buddy, Jay, who’s all “come look at my kid”. ‘Cause he and his girlfriend had a baby? And I’m thinking “I’d rather be in a fucking plane crash” but I can’t say that, so instead I tell him I have to work. He asks me what I’m working on, and I guess that plane crash thing is on my mind because I say “This TV pilot about a plane crash”. Jay is a tv writer, for Alias, so he gets all excited and tells me to show it to him when I’m done.
So now I’m fucked and I have to really write it. I went out and bought some comicbooks and weed and locked myself in my apartment for the weekend. I figured, ok — I’ve got a plane crashing…but what else? Dinosaurs maybe? I wasn’t sure about that, so I sort of halfway put it in. I figured I could make it a polar bear or something later if I wanted. Then I thought about that quote that they say, “write what you know.” If I know anything it’s that women are horrible and my dad’s a jagweed. So then I just wrote a shit-ton about that — I even put Angela and her dead brother in it — I changed their names though.
Anyway,the final draft turned out a little confusing, but awesome. Jay liked it a lot, too and decided he wanted to make it. Fuck yeah! So, I bought myself a new livingroom set and wrote my dad a letter that just said “FUCK YOU OLD MAN,” but I bet his nurses won’t read it to him.