At the Old Friends Bar.
"Wow, you're making me wanna jump on board!" Phoebe exclaimed. 😍
"Who wouldn't?" Joey said with a wry smile. "It sounds great and all, but there's one big problem—where's a show like that even at? I've been acting for years and never heard of anything like it."
"Ha! Lucky you!" I grinned. "Did you forget who I am?"
"Cut it out," Joey said, shaking his head. "I know you're a big-shot writer, but writing novels and scripting a show? Totally different beasts. And to pull off what you're talking about, even the best screenwriter needs a ton of luck."
Writing a novel just takes imagination and decent wordsmithing. But scripting? Every line's gotta be filmable. Two different worlds, man.
Fancy descriptions sound cool on paper, but how do you shoot them? A "devilish grin" ends up as some goofy smirk on screen—more awkward than charming. Unless you slap a voiceover calling it "devilishly charming," but that's a whole other vibe.
"You'll see soon enough," I said with a sly smirk.
Emmm. Note: This one's the real deal—proper devilish charm. 😏
This world's already a mashup of TV universes, so naturally, there's no Friends—no iconic show like that exists here. Same goes for classics like How I Met Your Mother or The Big Bang Theory. Nada.
Back in the day, I couldn't be bothered to mess with that stuff. Didn't need the cash. Once money hits a certain level, it's just numbers. I legit don't care about it anymore—don't even know how much I've got and don't bother checking. This ain't some fake "I'm above money" flex while secretly wanting to rake it in. Nah, after you've got enough, it's peanuts compared to boosting stats like endurance or wisdom through the system.
Can money buy you more years? Stamina? Smarts? Nope. But the reverse? Oh yeah, totally works. Easy choice.
But now, with Chandler and Monica expecting a kid and moving out of New York—and me being the godfather—I figured I'd whip up a little gift. What's better than setting them up for financial freedom from day one?
That's right! I'm bringing Friends to the Friends world. 😎
Of course, Rachel and the crew are past the age to play themselves. They've kept up appearances pretty well, but you can tell they've lost that fresh glow from a few years back. Over 30 now—Westerners bloom early and fade fast. Like Rachel's sister Amy once bluntly put it about Joey: "Oh, you're that guy from Days of Our Lives! Geez, they really cake the powder on you, huh?" Youth slips away—no amount of makeup, lighting, or filters can fully hide it.
They can't act in it anymore, but it's their story. They'll get a cut of the adaptation fees. As their buddy, I'm not about to shortchange them. Not some crazy $20 million-a-year deal, but a few mil each annually for doing zilch—no filming, no fuss. Who wouldn't love that? For me, it's pocket change.
Handing out cash straight-up feels weird, though. This way, it's smooth and makes sense.
Plan's simple: hire a top-tier writing team as my ghostwriters, hand them the character breakdowns and story outline, oversee a few episodes 'til it's rolling, then step back and let it run. The profits? Way beyond any investment. Ten small fortunes a year, easy-peasy. A legit cash cow.
But honestly, I don't care about the money. Too much of it doesn't guarantee happiness. Chandler and Monica were happiest when they were middle-of-the-road—comfortable, in love, no worries. If Joey wasn't itching to hit Hollywood with his future up in the air, and if the gang didn't have kids on the way (gotta protect that daughter from sleazy sugar daddies!), I wouldn't even bother. Being a godfather's tough work, man. 😂
Oh, and in my Friends version, that Rachel-Joey fling? Gone. I'll crunch the last three seasons into one—eight seasons total, nice and tight. Joey knows this story inside out—he could slide into co-producer, assistant director, or assistant writer. Boom, instant upgrade from actor to big-shot creative. If he still wants to act, those shiny titles and connections will land him roles way easier than starting from scratch in Hollywood. A million times better.
We chatted a bit more, then I walked Chandler and Monica out. Monica's in her first trimester—gotta be extra careful. She'd already been hanging with the crew for a while before I showed up.
"Hey, you guys should link up with Matthew and Lily more," I suggested. "Once they're hitched, they'll move to the suburbs too. I bet you'd hit it off—tons to talk about."
I'm always playing matchmaker for my favorite couples. If Rachel's not keen, and Phoebe and Joey aren't heading out soon, Chandler and Monica might feel lonely out there by themselves. I remember Matthew and Lily snagging a suburban place after their wedding—total newbies, got scammed by a shady realtor into buying some dump with a slanted floor. Houses are a big deal here; you can't just swap 'em out. They made the best of it, though—Matthew used the tilt to skateboard with the kids.
But now? No need for that mess. I'll hook Matthew and Lily up with a spot near Chandler's neighborhood. Anyone tries to rip them off, they'll have to answer to me—a billionaire buddy's no joke! They used to run in different circles, barely crossed paths. But once they're married, raising kids next door, with me as the glue? Two awesome couples like that are bound to become tight.
"It's kinda my wishful thinking," I added with a grin.
"You mean them?" Monica asked, her face twisting weirdly as she pointed.
"Huh?" I followed her gaze and winced.
Over at Matthew's table, there was a giant glass of beer plopped in the center. The crew was gathered around, watching Lily hoist it up. Matthew, her fiancé, checked his watch like a pro timer.
"Go!" he shouted.
Lily chugged—straight down the hatch.
"Drink! Drink!"
"Chug it!"
Ted and the gang cheered her on.
Gulp, gulp. No breaks—she drained it in one go.
"Ten seconds!" Matthew roared, laughing.
Burp! Lily slammed the glass down like a champ, grinning wide. "See that, you losers? That's how you drink!"
Ted and the others pointed at her, hyping up the crowd—behold, the Beer Goddess!
"They're not married yet," I said, pivoting fast. "It'll settle down after the wedding… or once they're house-hunting and planning kids…"
"Lily's still so young and wild," Monica said with a sigh.
"I'm sure we'll find stuff to bond over," Chandler chuckled. "Just hope they tie the knot and move out soon—keep us company."
"Won't be long," I said, smiling. "Few months 'til their wedding. And with how clingy they are, once they let their guard down post-honeymoon? Kid's coming quick. Trust me, that pre-pregnancy checkup phase you're in? That's just their daily routine."
Ted's endless apartment rules—like "no messing around on the kitchen floor"—exist for a reason. Matthew and Lily get in the mood and start going at it right in front of him. Total dog-food factory. 🐶
"Hear that?" Monica shot Chandler a side-eye as he clicked his tongue. "That's their baseline. Stop acting like I'm the one pushing you."
"I didn't say anything," Chandler mumbled, rubbing his shaky legs with a weak laugh.
I saw Monica and Chandler off, then swung by Lily the Beer Goddess's table.
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