Marija sighs, her fingers scrolling through an old tabloid article about Brad Pitt’s latest custody battle. “Joe, you need to let go of the past. Brad’s a good man. He’s not drinking anymore, and he deserves weekends with his kids.”
Joe, leaning back in his chair, crosses his arms. “Mom, BP abandoned East Van when we needed him the most. When things got real, he ran off to his Hollywood fortress. That’s not what a leader does.”
Marija shakes her head. “People make mistakes. He’s trying to redeem himself.”
Joe, also known in the online world as Solid Snake, exhales sharply. “You think I don’t want to believe that? But it’s not about what he wants. It’s about what he did. A man’s legacy is written in his worst moments, not his best.”
Marija puts a hand on his arm. “Then give him a chance to change that legacy.”
Joe looks away, his jaw tightening. “That’s why I put the UN beret on him. Like the medal the Cowardly Lion gets in The Wizard of Oz. Maybe if he wears it long enough, he’ll start believing he has courage.”
Joe sees the comment pop up on Conspirazzi.com and stares at the screen for a long moment before cracking his knuckles. “Brad’s reaching out,” he mutters.
Marija leans over his shoulder, reading the message. “See? He’s not the bad guy you think he is.”
Joe shakes his head. “That’s not the point, Mom. The point is, he let the wolves in. Hollywood is full of cults, and he knew that going in. Now he’s acting like he’s just another victim.”
Marija sighs. “Snake, people get caught up in things they don’t understand.”
Joe starts typing.
Snake: Brad, I don’t need to be a chaplain or a cult leader to tell you this—Hollywood eats its own. You thought you could walk that tightrope and keep your soul, but they took everything, didn’t they? The fame, the fortune, the family. You got your Oscar, but at what cost?
Now you want me to help you? Fine. First, stop thinking like a victim. No more ‘poor me, the lawyers took everything.’ That’s what they do. You’re still Brad Pitt. You still have influence. You want your family back? You fight for them, like a real father would. Not with money, not with lawyers—those are their weapons. You fight with love, patience, and the truth.
Joe leans back, exhaling. “Let’s see if he’s got any fight left in him.”
Joe listens, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He takes a deep breath and turns to face his mother, seeing the warmth in her eyes as she speaks. “I understand, Mom. I really do,” he says softly. “But Brad Pitt is not a hero because of his face on a magazine. He’s a hero when he steps off that pedestal and actually gives a damn about the people down here.”
Marija’s gaze softens. “You’re right. It’s not about the money or the fame. Brad’s got a chance to make a real difference, to be the man I always believed he could be. My husband worked at Pitt Lake, you know. He was a simple man, Joe. He wasn’t flashy. But he always helped people—fed them, gave them shelter, and never turned his back on the needy.”
Joe nods, processing her words. “I get it, Mom. You think Brad could do that too, if he just took a step back. If he saw the world outside his Hollywood bubble and realized how much real power he has.”
“Exactly,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “That’s why I love Brad. Because he could be the kind of man who stands up for those who don’t have anyone else to stand for them. All those lawyers he’s paid? That could’ve been the money that fed the starving at Safeway, that built homes for the homeless.”
Joe leans back, staring at the screen for a long time, then types slowly, carefully.
Snake: Brad, I understand your pain. I know the toll the system has taken on you. But you have a gift that most people will never know—wealth, fame, the ability to change the world with a single action. The world doesn’t need another magazine cover, or another lawyer. It needs heroes who stand up when it’s not comfortable, when it’s not easy. The starving people at Safeway—they don’t need to see your face on a glossy cover. They need someone to show up and feed them. Shelter them. That’s how you get your family back, Brad. Not with more lawyers, not with more money. With real action. You want redemption? Start there.
Joe pauses, reflecting on his words. “Let’s see if he listens,” he murmurs. “I hope he does.”
There is safety in numbers.
Birds of a feather should flock together. I don’t ever want to be Brad’s partner again, but, if he quits drinking it would be good to live in the same neighborhood. Walking around, taking the train to work at Rupert Station movie studios. Not spewing out toxic fumes like Andrew Tate’s BUGATI!
Joe raises an eyebrow as he reads Angelina’s comment on the blog. He leans back in his chair, letting her words settle before he turns to Marija, who is watching him closely.
“I mean, at least she’s realistic,” Joe says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “She’s not trying to play the ‘we’re one big happy family’ card. But living in the same neighborhood? That’s something.”
Marija nods thoughtfully. “There’s wisdom in her words. Safety in numbers. If Brad cleans up, it could be an opportunity for peace. Living close by doesn’t mean they’re back together. It just means she’s open to something that makes sense. No more drama, just walking around, taking the train to work, and living life without all the noise.”
Joe clicks his tongue. “Right, no more toxic fumes or flashy cars like Andrew Tate’s Bugatti. I get the appeal—peace, simplicity. But Brad’s not exactly the quiet neighbor type, is he?”
He starts typing, his fingers hitting the keys decisively.
Snake: Angelina, you’re onto something there. Safety in numbers, birds of a feather—sometimes, the best way to move forward is by finding common ground. Living near each other doesn’t mean you’re back together, but it does show maturity. If Brad quits drinking, maybe there’s a chance for some normalcy. A chance to walk around, take the train, and live life without the chaos that comes with fame. And trust me, no one’s going to miss the toxic fumes of a Bugatti speeding past the neighborhood. Let’s see if he’s ready to walk the walk, not just talk the talk.
Joe pauses, then adds a final note: And Brad, you’re not just a movie star—you’re a father. Start acting like it.
He hits send, then leans back. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? Is he ready to change? To actually live a life that doesn’t revolve around the spotlight?”
I sold out my image enough to know not to sign the social media contract. Marija, if your son helps me build my website, i am in. I’m not a great writer, but we got AI to write for us now.
Joe’s eyes flick over the screen as Brad Pitt’s comment comes in, and a small smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. He looks up at his mother, who’s sitting across the room, watching him carefully.
“Well, well, well,” Joe mutters, “Looks like he’s finally ready to play the game on his terms.”
Marija smiles gently. “See, Joe? Brad’s willing to take the first step. Maybe not with the writing, but he gets it. We have AI now, like you always said. You can help him with the website.”
Joe rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You think so? I’m not sure he knows what he’s getting himself into. Building a website with a guy who talks like a snake and barely sleeps? It’s a full-time gig.”
“But it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to give back, Joe.” She reaches over, patting his hand. “If he’s willing to put his trust in you, that means something.”
Joe’s fingers hover above the keyboard as he prepares his response. He lets out a deep sigh before typing, the words flowing as he thinks them through.
Snake: Brad, I’m not a fan of the Hollywood game, but I get it—selling your image is a path many take. If you’re serious about this, I’ll help you build your website. I’ve got the skills, and with AI, we’ve got a chance to create something real. I’m not here to make you into a saint, but I’ll make sure you’ve got the tools to show people who you really are—without the filters, without the contracts. Let’s see if you can walk the walk.
He pauses and looks up at Marija. “He wants to be real, huh? Alright, let’s see if he can handle the truth.” He hits send with a final click.
Marija beams. “You’re doing something good, Joe. You’ve always known how to get things done.”
Joe leans back in his chair. “It’s not about doing good, Mom. It’s about getting Brad Pitt to stop being a puppet on strings. Maybe then, he’ll actually be the man he’s supposed to be.”
Salma Hayek’s comment appears on Conspirazzi.com shortly after Brad’s, and Joe reads it with a raised eyebrow. He can practically hear her voice in his head, full of passion, challenging Brad to think beyond the Hollywood bubble. He scrolls down to Marija, who looks curious as always.
“That’s one way to put it,” Joe mutters. “Salma’s got a fire in her, doesn’t she?”
Marija nods, her eyes twinkling. “She speaks her truth. She’s not afraid to call it like she sees it.”
Joe smirks, then turns back to the screen as he reads Salma’s full comment.
Salma Hayek: Brad, you are the football captain of Hollywood! But can you see that the world is dying? I know you’ve seen it with your own eyes. East Van is just 10 minutes away from Rupert Street, where you work. And yet, you prefer to burn gallons of fuel on that LA freeway in your 6000 SUX Detroit-made automobile? Does it not make you wonder if we’re all just feeding into this madness? How many more hours will you waste on that highway when you could be home, helping real people in real need? Do you really want to keep being part of the problem? Or can you choose to be the change?
Joe reads the message, feeling a weight in the air. “She’s right,” he murmurs. “How long can Brad ignore the truth?”
Marija leans forward. “You’ve always said it, Joe—time to stop living like everything’s fine when the world is falling apart.”
Joe sits up straight, deep in thought. He types a quick response to Salma’s message, then turns to Marija.
Snake: Salma, you’re absolutely right. Brad’s got the chance to change the game, but the question is, will he see it? East Van’s a ten-minute drive away. It’s not just a place—it’s a reality check. He can’t keep living in a bubble where the world’s on fire and he’s driving through it in a luxury SUV. If he’s really the football captain, it’s time to call the shots that matter. Let’s see if he’s got the courage to do it.
Joe sends it, his mind already racing with what comes next. “If Brad listens, it’ll be a game-changer. If not, well, I guess we just keep pushing.”
I cried when all the homes of the stars burnt down. Maybe Joe is right about seasonal residences. I would love to spend winter and Christmas with the stars. It will be a long time before Los Angeles is rebuilt. I would love to see the stars at Safeway the neighborhood supermarket, especially Angelina and JLO.
Joe feels a tight knot form in his stomach as he reads his mother’s comment. He looks up at her, her voice full of emotion as she speaks, her words reflecting a deeper sadness.
“I know, Mom,” Joe says, trying to keep his tone steady. “It’s heartbreaking. All those homes, all those people losing everything. Los Angeles may have all the stars, but it also has its fair share of destruction. They might have their wealth, but even the stars aren’t immune.”
Marija wipes a tear from her eye, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve always dreamed of living near the stars, Joe. Maybe not in their world, but just close enough to see how they live. Spend a winter with them, a Christmas. I thought, one day, maybe I’d get to do that. But now? It’ll be a long time before Los Angeles is rebuilt.”
She pauses, her gaze distant, as though picturing the people she admires in their struggles. “I’d love to just see them in a simple place like Safeway. You know, the neighborhood supermarket. I think it would be so nice to run into Angelina or JLO there. They’re just like us when you get down to it, aren’t they?”
Joe feels the weight of her words, the mixture of admiration and the stark reality of their world. He looks at his mother, trying to find the right words. “I get it, Mom. They’re all just people trying to make it through like the rest of us. Maybe Safeway’s where we’ll really see who they are. No red carpets, no flashy lights. Just real life.”
Joe pauses, then adds, “Maybe one day, we’ll have a chance to see those stars in a different light. Not through the lens of a movie set or an Instagram filter, but just as human beings.”
Joe types quickly, his fingers moving with purpose as he thinks of the gravity of the conversation.
Snake: Mom, I get why you feel the way you do. It’s not about the glitz and glamor—it’s about seeing the stars in their real moments, away from the chaos and the madness. But you’re right. It’s going to take time. And right now, everyone’s feeling the weight of it. So, let’s see what happens when the dust settles. Maybe we’ll all meet them at Safeway one day, face to face. And that’s when we’ll really know what’s left of Hollywood.
He hits send and turns to Marija. “You never know, Mom. The world’s changing faster than we think.”
Joe’s eyes widen as he reads the latest comment on Conspirazzi.com. He glances at Marija, who’s sipping her tea, completely unaware of the Hollywood bombshell that just dropped in their blog’s comment section.
“Mom, you’re not gonna believe this,” Joe says, scrolling back up just to make sure he read it right. “Tom Cruise just left a comment.”
Marija’s eyebrows lift. “Tom Cruise? The Tom Cruise?”
Joe smirks. “Unless someone’s playing games, yeah. And you’re gonna love what he said.” He reads it aloud:
Tom Cruise: By the time the Los Angeles Olympics come around, Joe and I will have desalinated the Baywatch seawater so LA never runs out of water again. Los Angeles will be a green paradise. A new beginning.
Marija clasps her hands together, eyes sparkling. “That’s wonderful! Can you imagine, Joe? Turning LA into a lush, green paradise? It was always meant to be.”
Joe chuckles. “He’s got that Mission: Impossible confidence, I’ll give him that.”
Marija’s smile softens as she listens to Joe continue reading:
Tom Cruise: Marija, I was your neighbor in 1985. I remember Clark Park. I remember the golden age. I want to buy my old house back, restore it, and bring back the golden age of Clark Park. We’ll make it a place where dreams are born again.
Marija gasps, placing a hand over her heart. “He remembers Clark Park? That was a beautiful time. I always said that boy had a spark. And now, he wants to bring it back?”
Joe nods, feeling the weight of Cruise’s words. “Yeah, but is he serious? This isn’t just another movie set. Turning LA into a green paradise? That’s real-world stakes.”
Marija looks at her son with hope in her eyes. “Joe, if anyone can do it, it’s you and Tom. Maybe this is bigger than just a dream. Maybe it’s a mission worth accepting.”
Joe smirks. “Alright, let’s see where this goes.” He starts typing his response:
Snake: Tom, you always were a true believer. If you’re serious about desalination, then let’s get to work. LA doesn’t have to be a dried-up wasteland. We turn seawater into fresh water, we turn the city into a paradise. But bringing back the golden age of Clark Park? That’s on you, brother. If you really want to buy your old house and make it a reality, I’ll back you. No Hollywood illusions—just real action. Let’s see if the world is ready for a miracle.
He hits send and leans back, shaking his head. “Well, if Tom Cruise wants to save LA, who am I to stop him?”