"What if we do, like, a story about a giraffe that has to go to the Vietnam war?" says a man in the meeting to fill the silence.

"Excuse me?" says the woman at the head of the table.

"What if, like, he has to save his human friend from agent orange by using his long neck?" the man adds, checking the temperature of the room and nodding. "He could learn a lesson about loving himself for the way he is… Maybe a mean horse made fun of his neck?"

"We've talked about this, Greg. We need to keep it light. We make family movies," she says in a tone that has been trained to carefully not kill the creative spirit.

Greg flattens his mouth. "Have you seen Up? Finding Nemo? People die in the first 15 minutes. I don't understand why we can't do a story about a giraffe that has to learn to parachute into Vietnam or something…"

"Look, Pixar has made some hits, but the last few have been medium at best. No offense, Greg, but we need to hit it out of the park. OK? That's why I was hired. No giraffes in Vietnam."

"Oh, OK, I guess we loved the one about the robot in the post-apocalyptic Earth or the one about cars with eyeballs for a windshield, but we won't even consider a giraffe that has to do basic training…"

"Well, Greg," she says, carefully remaining calm. "It seems like the story keeps changing."

"I'm pitching!" he says.

"OK!" she says. "We wrote it down! Great! Any more ideas?"

A woman hesitantly raises her hand.

"Yes, Becca."

"Thank you, Daisy…" She looks at her notes. "What about a fart that has to save her niece from an oscillating fan?"

People around the table nod.

"No!" Daisy says. "We need something good!"

"Oh," Greg pipes back up, "I guess a plastic doll dealing with his own mortality is fine, but we can't do a fart and fan?"

Daisy sighs.

"What about a blanket who doesn't want to pay taxes because he's a libertarian!" says a man in the back.

"What about a high school dance but everyone is a different kind of cheese!" says a woman. "Brie falls in love with American cheese!"

"What about a young boy who has to travel across the world to find his dad," says a woman, looking at her notes.

"That sounds interesting!" Daisy says. "What else?"

"The boy is a can of Coconut LaCroix."

Daisy sighs. "I'm sorry, I need to level with you all here. I'm new here, I'm trying to make a good impression, but I gotta ask. Do all Pixar movies sound this stupid at the beginning?"

Everyone at the table nods.

"Alright, Greg, tell me about those giraffes."

Greg grins. "Nice. OK, his best friend he saves turns out to be Ricard Nixon and he gets made President of giraffes."

"That's stupid," says another woman.

Daisy seems relieved.

"Nixon was in the White House during Vietnam, not a foot soldier. Make it Donald Trump. We can work in a bone spurs joke!"

"Oh, that'll kill," Greg says. He writes frantically.

"What if," Daisy says carefully. Everyone looks. "The drill sergeant is an actual drill."

Silence.

Greg stands, walks over to her, and sticks out his hand. "That's fucking genius."