The only kind of seafood I trust is the fish stick, a totally

Opening Scene – Narrated by Host

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a warm orange hue over the city. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery and the faint, salty breeze of the ocean. Jeeny sat at a table in the small, cozy café by the shore, sipping on her iced tea. Her dark hair was loosely tied back, and her gaze was fixed on the sea, lost in thought. Jack sat across from her, a skeptical frown etched on his face as he picked at a plate of shrimp, eyeing it with suspicion.

A gentle wave of laughter echoed in the café as a couple of patrons enjoyed their meals. The place felt alive, but there was a distinct tension between Jack and the plate of seafood in front of him — an unspoken battle over something so trivial, yet strangely important.

Character Descriptions

Jack
Male, around 35, rugged with a tendency to overthink. His grey eyes are sharp, full of skepticism and dry humor. He stands tall but carries a subtle tension in his frame, a man of few words, especially when it comes to things he doesn’t trust. His voice is low and gruff, and though his demeanor is often sarcastic, there’s a certain vulnerability he keeps hidden behind his sharp wit.

Jeeny
Female, around 30, small but with a presence that fills the room. Her brown eyes are bright with an innate curiosity, and her smile is always just a little more optimistic than the world deserves. Her soft voice contrasts with Jack’s more cynical tone, and while she enjoys debating him, she also finds a certain joy in life’s little pleasures, like good food — particularly seafood.

Host
An observer — a silent narrator who watches the scene unfold, capturing the tension of the moment. The Host sees the world through cinematic imagery, noting the small details that reveal what is left unsaid between the characters.

Main Debate

Host: The soft clinking of silverware on plates fills the air, but the table between Jack and Jeeny is quiet, save for the occasional deep breath from Jack, who stares at the shrimp on his plate like it’s a foreign enemy. Jeeny, on the other hand, seems perfectly at ease, a faint smile curling on her lips as she watches him.

Jeeny: “You know, you don’t have to make that face every time you see seafood, Jack. It’s not like it’s a foreign species.”

Jack: His eyes narrow, a sardonic smirk curling on his lips. “Trust me, Jeeny. The only kind of seafood I trust is the fish stick. A totally featureless fish that doesn’t have eyeballs or fins. Now, that’s my kind of fish.”

Jeeny: Her eyes widen with amusement, her voice light and teasing. “Fish sticks? You’re serious? You’d rather eat something processed and full of mystery ingredients than a fresh piece of seafood?”

Jack: He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, his eyes fixed on the shrimp as though it might start moving. “Yes, because I know what a fish stick is. I don’t need to worry about whether this shrimp’s been to a five-star restaurant or whether it’s still deciding whether it’s alive or dead.”

Jeeny: She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You know, you’re really missing out. Fresh seafood, Jack, it’s not about what it looks like — it’s about the flavor. The experience.”

Jack: His voice drops slightly, a hint of challenge in it. “What’s the experience? Trying not to think about how this thing used to swim around and probably looked at me with its little eyes? No thanks, I’m not into that.”

Host: The café buzzes with conversation around them, but the space between Jack and Jeeny feels charged, like they’re in their own little world. Jeeny smiles softly, her eyes glimmering with the joy of the conversation.

Jeeny: “It’s funny you say that, because I think you’re missing the point. Seafood is about connection. It’s not just about the flavor; it’s about the fact that you’re eating something that’s connected to the sea, to nature. It’s about understanding that you’re part of this bigger picture.”

Jack: He raises an eyebrow, his expression flat, almost bored. “Right, I’m supposed to get all philosophical about eating something that was once a creature that could’ve watched me eat it. I don’t think so, Jeeny.”

Jeeny: She leans forward, her voice full of playfulness, though there’s a deeper sincerity behind her words. “You don’t have to overthink it, Jack. It’s just food. The experience of eating something fresh, something connected to the earth, that’s where the beauty is. And, if you can’t appreciate that, maybe you should just try it with fewer judgments and more open-mindedness.”

Jack: He lets out a soft snort, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement. “You want me to be open-minded about something that still has the same eyes it had when it was swimming in the ocean? I’ll pass.”

Host: There’s a flicker of amusement in Jeeny’s eyes, but she quickly smooths it over with a soft chuckle. The tension between them remains, but in a strange way, it feels like part of their routine — the back-and-forth of banter that only they understand.

Jeeny: “Alright, alright, Jack. Maybe the whole experience isn’t for you. But you can’t deny the joy of something simple, like a fresh piece of fish. You don’t need to get all complicated with it.”

Jack: “And that’s exactly why I trust fish sticks. No mystery, no experience—just fish and breading. It’s clear. Simple. I know what I’m getting. There’s no room for disappointment.”

Host: Jeeny smiles knowingly, leaning back slightly as if she’s conceding a small victory. She knows that sometimes, there’s no convincing Jack when it comes to his rigid beliefs. But something about the way he talks about his love for fish sticks strikes her with a certain charm, a unique perspective on life.

Climax and Reconciliation

Jack: After a long pause, he glances at her, his smirk still present but less sharp now. “Fine, maybe I’ll try a bite of your shrimp next time. But only if you promise not to make me look into its eyes.”

Jeeny: She laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that makes the tension between them seem lighter. “Deal. I promise, no looking into the eyes of my shrimp. But just so you know, fresh fish has the potential to surprise you, Jack.”

Jack: He chuckles, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Surprise me? I’ll believe it when I taste it. Until then, I’m sticking to my trusty fish sticks.”

Host: The laughter between them settles into a comfortable silence. The sea breeze picks up, rustling the nearby palm trees as the café continues its quiet rhythm around them. And though they may not agree on the mysteries of seafood, there’s a certain unspoken understanding between them — that, at the end of the day, they’re both just trying to find something they can trust.

Jeeny: “Alright, Jack. But one day, you’ll taste something fresh and realize, maybe, just maybe, I was onto something.”

Jack: With a playful wink, he raises his glass. “I’ll let you know when I get there. Cheers to mystery seafood and fish sticks.”

Host: The conversation drifts into more lighthearted topics, the weight of the debate fading into the warmth of the evening. The sea continues its endless dance, and in this small café by the shore, two people find a brief moment of connection, one bite at a time.