The winners were, in order, a heartwarming film about a dying grandfather, followed by an animated short of an astronaut on the moon, and finally a comedy short about dating life. 'Singing Doll' wasn't even mentioned anywhere on the website, speaking volumes about its horrendous reception. Sam found individual reviews for each film, and read through each of them with gritted teeth, envious of all the colourful praises they received. When he eventually got to the review for his film, he couldn't even pass the first sentence, which commented on the tripod in frame; Sonia was right, again.

He continued browsing obsessively, clicking through every link and tab to understand what he lacked, although he already knew the answer to that question, only wishing the experts would beg to differ; which they didn't. The team behind the animated short had a team of ten highly skilled animators behind-the-scenes; the director of the dying grandfather got his entire extended family to chip in with the production, totaling a crew of almost twenty from what he gathered, whilst he only had two whiny incompetent girls to work with. Is it a surprise to anyone he lost? Everyone had a silver-spoon, everyone had miles of a headstart on the race, everyone was blessed by Lady Luck, and only he competed legitimately, thus becoming the legitimate loser everytime.

If his father heard about this, he would chime in with his usual lecture about how luck didn't exist, and how all he needed to do was to put his head down and work hard, as if he hadn't done so for the past year. He would've easily won if he had animators behind the scenes, or his extended family of cousins helped him in production, but of course the universe wouldn't spare him such luxuries. Time and time again, his family were the underdogs, and had to work twice as hard to reap half the rewards.

He emailed his cousin one last time, venting his woes about the cruelty of fate and everything in between. His cousin only offered him empty words of encouragement, and dared share their woes of being wealthy. If not for their previous camaradiere, this would've burnt the bridge clean.

**

With nowhere left to turn, he treks across the country to meet his idol in person; Uncle Anthony, or Ant, for short. He and his father had a heated rivalry amongst them, constantly trying to undermine the other's masculinity. Sam had to make this visit a secret, which wasn't hard during his two-week suspension.

He knocked on the door nervously, wondering if he even would answer considering his busy profession. To his relief, he did so with open arms, inviting him for tea with his second aunt. The two had no familial bond whatsoever.

"Sam, it's been so long! Why don't you visit more often? Look how big you are now!" He stood beside him, comparing their heights, towering over him by one head.

"Heh... yeah." He replied awkwardly.

They caught up with embarrassing childhood stories that made his cheeks flush red, refilled their cups of tea, and drove off to spend quality time together. Only in the car could Sam finally steer the conversation towards his pressing troubles.

"So... I came here... because I was suspended from school." He admitted.

"What? What happened?"

"And I can't be the president of my film club anymore on top of that..."

"Oh my god, what happened?"

"I..." He hesitated on telling the truth. "I- I made a new short film and it didn't win again! You told me this takes a while but it's been a year! How am I supposed to make this work?" He cried out.

"Sam, it takes more than a year before you can even find success with your films."

"Well you didn't tell me that last time! You just said it'll happen one day! I don't want to wait ten years before earning my first bit of success, that's too late!"

"Late? Late for what?"

"Well... I want time to enjoy my success once I get it..."

"What was your film about?"

"Well, it's about this ghost in the school that like died in an accident, and like she's trying to find her friend and yeah... It was... rushed. We didn't have time."

"How many people is 'we'?"

"Me, Sonia, Honey..."

"The girl with the dyed hair?"

"Yeah... she's Honey."

"Sam..." His uncle held in his laughter, "How could you possibly make a short film with only three people?"

"Well no one else wanted to join us! I mean we had this new girl Erin, but she joined in pretty late and-"

"Sam, you've seen me on set before, you know how crowded it is. How is it possible that you could make a short film with only three people?"

"I mean, I knew it would be hard but-"

"No, it would be impossible."

"Yeah. but if I just work hard and-"

"Oh my god, don't even say that word-" His bones rattled. "-it makes me so... mm!" He balled fists.

"What? 'Work hard'?"

"Hulk smash! I worked hard for this, I deserve it! My god, I swear-" He mumbled some curses under his breath.

"What?" He found their rivalry bewildering, clueless as to what caused the rift to begin with.

"Sam, you are not Superman, you can't just... will things into existence, okay? No one can make a decent short film with a crew of three people, no one. Especially not under the tight time constraints of a film festival, it is literally impossible."

"I know, but-"

"Then why did you do it? If you knew it was impossible?"

"I just thought if I just- I mean I know you don't want me to say it but- I just thought I could if I just tried... I don't know..."

"See? No wonder you failed. You didn't even know! You just went in thinking it would all fall in line simply because you what? Worked hard? Hard work is not- not- freaking- pixie dust, do you get that? Like if you cut off my finger, no amount of hard work will magically reattach it back, you know?"

"I mean, that's different! Plus, there's like surgery and-"

"Sam, hard work isn't magic. Your film failed because you bit off more than you can chew. If you want to actually make films, then set more realistic expectations."

"Ok... well what if in the middle of the film something bad happens- like someone just... disagrees with everything you say and like... do their own thing."

"Well then learn how to resolve conflicts, but if it's too much then just cut your losses and abandon it."

"You mean give up?" Sam felt personal offence.

"There's nothing wrong with that, better than digging your own grave!" His Uncle flared up, and parked the car. The two went to eat at what his Uncle swore to serve the best chicken rice in all of the country. Sam doubted his tastes in food.

"So... what's the plan now?" His Uncle asked. "How long is your suspension?"

"Two weeks."

"Ok, good, not too long."

"Yeah."

"So what's the plan? Once your two weeks are over?"

"I'm not even the president anymore, so does it matter what I think?"

"Well, sounds like the club is at a dead end..."

"Yeah..."

"Maybe you could try to start something else?"

"What! I'm not giving the club up! I made it! This is my club! I made it! I signed the form, and I talked to Ms Eva! It's mine! I'm supposed to be president! I'm not giving up until I get it back!"

"It is scary how much you sound like your father sometimes."

"What?"

"Sam, why does it matter if it's yours or not? You can start another club, or just make your films outside of school! Why keep beating a dead horse? What, because you raised it? And gave it a name?"

"Well then what else can I do? I've tried so many things! I've tried my stupid country eraser thing in secondary school, I joined a business course, I started a film club to be like you, I did well on all my exams, what else can I try? What? Like... starting a business or something?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Or you could make another film? I'll help."

"Eh..." He shrugged. "I don't know... I think I'm done... making films."

"Oh, really?"

"It's not working! So much work for nothing! It's not sustainable. This isn't the way."

"No matter what route you take, it would always take time before you see the results Sam."

"But didn't you just say hard work isn't magic-" He waved his hands tauntingly, "Now I have to work hard and wait?"

"I'm not saying don't work hard, I'm saying work hard at the right thing so your time is worth it."

"Then how do I know what's the right thing!"

His Uncle drew a blank.

Sam groaned in frustration. "Whatever it is, all I know is I'm done with film. I hate it."

"Ha-ha, ouch." He patted Sam on the shoulder, "Just keep trying, and one day something will go through."

"Yeah, hopefully."

They finished their food and drove off. At their next stop, they played a round of laser tag and a round of darts, tying their victories one-to-one, and had what his Uncle claimed to be the best fish and chips for dinner, which he doubted once again. His uncle was woefully wrong with the chicken rice once already.

"Why do you hate my dad so much?" Sam decided to finally open this can of worms.

"He did something terrible when we were in our 20s, something he's somehow too stubborn to apologise for."

"What was it?"

His Uncle flashed a devil's grin, ready to assassinate his father's character mercilessly, "He got himself discharged from the military because he thought he 'deserved better'"

"Huh?"

"Oh you're gonna have a field day listening to this. One time, he was like doing drills in the afternoon, typical army stuff, you'll have to do it too, and the sun was hot, and so your genius father thought he should be entitled to not do the exercise because of it. He went to his sergeant, and had the audacity to shout at him in front of the entire platoon, like he transformed into the Hulk somehow, I heard he even laid hands on his sergeant! Hulk smash! The weather is so hot, I shouldn't have to do drills under this weather, I'm the best in the platoon, rawr! Stupid..." He looked away, taking a sip of his drink, "-and then he got discharged a week later. And that is why he can't hold down a job even if his life depends on it! All because he thought he deserved better."

"Oh..." Sam felt disillusioned. The rosy image of his heroic father came crumbling down.

"Yeah. It's so- just so-" He tried to shatter the glass of his beverage with telekinesis, "- and it now affects him, for the rest of his life! And I told him, over and over and over again, just freaking suck it up dude! You can't win against your sergeant, they have home field advantage! But no, he didn't listen, of course he didn't, why would he? When does he ever listen, right Sam? Does he ever listen to you or your brother?"

"N-"

"Exactly! And now he pays the price everyday! And that is why he pays rent to Aunty Flower every month!"

"Oh..."

The conversation darkened, and Sam swallowed a huge ball of air.

"Listen to me Sam, this is serious, okay? Don't let your stupid pride lead you to do stupid things like your father, it's not worth it. Some people in life just suck, but sometimes you just gotta take it, okay? Pick battles only you can win, otherwise you'll live your whole life a loser."

Sam found his advice oddly enlightening. "Ok... I will. Thanks." He felt his skull expanding like a balloon.

As if on cue, his fish and chips arrived. True to his suspicions, the fish and chips tasted mediocre, yet when he caught a glimpse of the bill the price indicated otherwise. Confused, he took a bite past feeling full, questioning his own taste buds, before confirming its mediocre taste for the second time. The two had a rematch at darts for the tie-breaker, and he won by a hair, scoring a bullseye with his last shot. Feeling completely wiped out, his Uncle sent him home and bid him farewell.

He entered with a beaming smile, only for the presence of his father to shut it down. "Where were you today?" He thundered.

"Uh... at home, why?"

"Then why didn't you pick Joe up?" Cold sweat broke out, how did he forget?

"You were at his place, weren't you?"

"Wh-"

"Your Uncle's! That good-for-nothing leech!"

"No..."

"He's trying to pit you against me again!"

"What? No!"

"You know what, the next time you buddy up with him, which I know won't be long, invite him over for dinner. Put his money where his mouth is!" He growled.

Sam rolled his eyes, now understanding the Hulk analogy his Uncle used, "What? All because you're salty over acting like a dumb Hulk during your army days? Psh." He found less and less resistance against speaking out against his father after their vicious fight.

Before his father could retaliate, his mother intercepted the raging bull, guiding it back to its pen and offering him dagger eyes. Sam only cared about Joe, apologising for his carelessness and promising to bring him along next time. Joe forgave him with a hint of disappointment in his tone.