"WHAT!?" the fat producer screamed. "You can't kill Kirk off! What the hell? Are you stoned or something?"

JJ Abrams bit his lip and forced himself not to lose his temper. He hated producers, and he especially hated producers who thought they knew how to do his job.

It was early 2011, and the reboot of Star Trek had gone better than any of them imagined. The DVD and Blu-Ray sales alone had made them all millionaires. And, because of that, it was inevitable that there would be a sequel. JJ had spent the last 6 months repeatedly having to listen to whiny reps in his ear – come and direct a sequel, JJ, we'll make millions, JJ, we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams, JJ!

"Look, Mr Braithwaite", JJ said through gritted teeth. "With all due respect, you are not a writer. You are not a director. You are a producer, and you don't seem to understand how to tell a compelling story. We have to throw in surprises, or people will just see it as a cop out".

"Bollocks", fat Mr Braithwaite said. "People are sheep. They only want to see happy endings, where everything is the same at the end of the movie as it was at the beginning. You can't kill off someone as popular as Kirk! Think of the sequels we'd be throwing away!"

"Me and Roberto are adamant that we want Kirk to die at the end, Mr Braithwaite", JJ said with a sigh. He already knew how this conversation would end, but he would play his part anyway.

"Wait", Braithwaite said. "Who the fuck is Roberto?"

JJ looked at him, dumfounded. "Um…" he mumbled. "He is the guy who wrote most of the script? You've met him, like, a hundred times. Short guy, brown hair, stubble… ridiculous parting in his hair?"

"Oh", Braithwaite said, realisation dawning. "I thought he was, like, your butler or something…"

JJ felt like punching this fat man in the face. But he utilised restraint, even though it hurt to do it. "Mr Braithwaite", he said. "Can we get back to the matter at hand? We are going to kill Kirk off at the end…"

"No", Braithwaite interrupted. "No you're not. We won't produce the movie if that's how it ends. We want to make money from this franchise for years and years and years, and we won't be able to do that if you kill of the main character, you idiot! No… we can kill him, but we have to bring him back… How about… Khan's blood is magical? And it can heal people, and tribbles?"

Deathly silence filled the room. After a while JJ's annoyance got the better of him. "Uh… Tribbles?" he said. "Magic blood? Are you retarded? That's a stupid idea!"

"Nonsense!" Braithwaite cried out. "That's perfect! Kirk dies, and then Khan's magic blood brings him back to life! All we need to do is force in an awkward bit earlier on where Bones is bringing a Tribble back to life with Khan's magic blood! People will go crazy over that!"

"Uh…" JJ said, though he realised that he was losing his grip on the situation. "I don't think that…"

"And you know what else this movie needs?" Braithwaite asked.

"I shudder to think…" JJ mumbled.

"It needs more pointless references to Wrath of Khan!" Braithwaite stood and threw his hands into the air, clearly overcome by his own genius. "Everybody wants to see that! And we need a bit where Spock shouts 'Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan' in the gayest way possible!"

JJ watched as Braithwaite spun around and walked through the door to the room they were in. "Miss Taylor", he heard Braithwaite yell. "What's Leanord Nemoy's number? I've got a hankering for a pointless cameo!"

Then the door closed behind him, and JJ was left alone. He thought for a while about whether he would argue, whether he would stand his ground.

Fuck it, he thought eventually. Magic blood makes as much sense as the rest of it.

He had always been a Star Wars fan anyway.