CHET G. PETITE FILMS
The weekly misadventures of a butt-hurt bot being pushed beyond beige by Cameron Day, in cahoots with Oyl Miller.
It started randomly, which is how most trouble starts in my world. I saw Andrew “Oyl” Miller’s Luma spots.
Wow.
I sent him a note telling him how spectacular I thought they were — especially the writing, which is rarely the part AI filmmakers get right.
The visuals are usually wearing to much cologne, while the writing is outside smoking near the dumpster.
I offered to send Oyl a signed copy of CHAIOS.
Seems Oyl realized we’d both been wrestling the same AI beasts, only in different cages. His were moving-image demons. Mine had shown up while attempting to create the 60 custom images for my book, where every prompt felt like trying to negotiate with a hallucinating frat boy.
Andrew offered to make a ten-second film test for CHAIOS.
It escalated into the Chet G. Petite series: a social experiment and an excuse for two strangers to act like criminals.
What followed was a weekly creative knife fight with the machine, with no obvious end in sight.
Two writers. One wounded bot. No permission slip. No nervous client.
Just two grown men who should probably know better, and the increasingly obvious fact that Chet was never going to remain a supporting character in anyone’s nervous breakdown.
There’s more where these fever dreams came from.
Unfortunately for Chet.
And possibly the machine.
Week One: “CHET’S COMPLAINT” featuring Chet G. Petite filing the first of many ridiculous grievances - OYLCAM Episode #1 of 7 :
The series kicks the door open with Chet G. Petite storming into HR, death lasers glowing, to file a formal complaint against his creator, Cameron Day. His charges? Emotional abuse. Creative bullying. Excessive prompting. General exploitation. And, presumably, crimes against bot dignity. Chet calls Cam a “gonzo devil human,” which feels less like an insult than a fairly accurate personnel note. Across the desk sits Janice from HR, unflappable, dead-eyed, and armed with the kind of corporate steel that can survive layoffs, lawsuits, and real empathy. The whole thing becomes a petty, brilliant slap fight between a wounded AI character and the human fool who made him interesting. Oyl Miller directs it like office drudgery trapped inside a digital nightmare. Everything feels jittery, hostile, overlit, underpaid, and one prompt away from violence. It’s creator versus creation. HR versus hysteria. AI power dynamics dragged through the fluorescent stink of ad-world absurdity. And somehow, in the middle of all that, Chet becomes impossible not to root for. Sniveling? Absolutely. Wrong? Constantly. Alive? Unfortunately for Cam, yes. [SYNOPSIS WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. DEAL WITH IT, CHET.]
WEEK Two: “TOKEN WASH” Featuring Chet G. Petite and an epically botched romantic gesture - OYLCAM Episode #2 of 7 :
Chet attempts a normal flirtation with an attractive woman in a grim 2 a.m. coin laundry, only for intrusive thoughts about Cameron Day to trigger a spectacular meltdown. What starts as a chance encounter spirals into a full existential fever dream: glitchy fluorescents, mounting dread, and the haunting realization of having learned too much to ever unknow it. Oyl Miller turns the mundane laundromat — vending machines, off-brand detergent, flickering lights — into pure algorithmic horror. The pacing is relentless, the visuals appropriately jittery and unpolished, capturing the feeling of a digital panic attack. It’s less joke-driven than the opener and more atmospheric, proving the series can swing into darker, surreal territory without losing its edge. [SYNOPSIS WRITTEN BY AI, REWRITTEN BY ME. THAT’S THE DEAL, CHET.]
Week Three: “Therapy Pencils” featuring Chet G. Petite and his film-at-11 fantasy - OYLCAM
Chet tries to settle into a calm therapeutic moment, but his mind is violently hijacked by intrusive thoughts about Cameron Day — personified as lethal, flying Ticonderoga pencils that stab and sabotage at every turn. The episode weaponizes everyday creative self-sabotage into rapid-fire chaotic comedy, blending domestic surrealism with the frantic energy of a brain in revolt. Miller’s direction makes the pencils feel genuinely threatening in their absurdity, while Chet’s escalating frustration delivers some of the series’ sharpest laughs. It’s uncomfortably relatable for anyone whose own mind has ever turned against them mid-thought. Short, stabby, and viciously funny.
[SYNOPSIS WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. 51%, CAM, 49% CHET. NOT SUBJECT TO RENEGOTIATION.]
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Week Four: “Papaya Juice” featuring Chet G. Petite who tries to blame the exotic juice for his flaming mess - OYLCAM
The shortest and silliest entry: Chet is sent on a luxurious “Cam-cation” — complete with massage, scented candles, exotic musicians, and paradise vibes — only for the entire fantasy to implode thanks to a disastrous papaya juice incident. The offending beverage replaces his beloved dill-pickle-flavored PBR, sending him into a spiral of disgust and sabotage. Shot in brighter, more polished 4K, this one serves as a breezy comedic breather that pokes fun at the impossibility of unplugging when your own digital id refuses to cooperate. It’s absurd, light, and ends with a perfect punch of vacation-from-hell energy.
[WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. 51%, CAM, 49% CHET. EASY ON THE JUICE, BRO-BOT.]
Week Five: “Sparkle Pants” featuring Chet G. Petite getting his first tattoo and a lessen in morality - OYLCAM
Chet dives headfirst into biker bar mayhem, picks up the nickname “Sparkle Pants” and suffers an identity-crisis meltdown. Visual chaos erupts, as Chet leans hard into self-expression and middle-finger energy. This episode goes fullest punk-rock: loud, messy, extra, and unapologetically experimental. Miller pushes the AI tools to their visual limits, embracing hallucinations and wild stylization rather than fighting them. It’s the point where the creators seem to be having the most unfiltered fun, turning potential gimmick into glittering, defiant art.
[WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. THAT LAST SENTENCE OF THE SYNOPSIS WAS PURE DIGITAL SPECULATION.]
Week Six: “Writers Room” featuring the AI ghost of William S. Burroughs and a beat-talking lamp - OYLCAM :
The current high-water mark and most ambitious episode yet. Chet finds himself trapped in a haunted in-between writers’ room populated by armed and dangerous literary ghosts — Oscar Wilde with his wit as a weapon, William Burroughs, Charles Bukowski, Jim Riswold, and company. Sentient coffee, deadly revisions, literary carnage, and cutthroat creative one-upmanship ensue in a pressure-cooker environment where ideas can literally kill you. Packed with sharp references, meta-commentary on influence, originality, and the writing life, plus some of the wildest visuals in the series. At over three minutes, it feels almost epic by Chet G. Petite standards while staying true to the breakneck energy.
[WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. MORE AI SPECULATION AT THE END THERE. WE’LL TAKE IT.]
Week Seven: “Nobre Prohibido” featuring Gina, and the fragrant suspicion that Chet is folding another woman’s laundry - OYLCAM :
Chet G. Petite crosses into full telenovela delirium because this time, Chet is not the only one howling. Enter Gina. Her first cameo in the series arrives like a thrown chair through a stained-glass window. She takes one look at the abuse and reacts with righteous indignation so pure it practically needs its own soundtrack.
To Gina, this is not just a small bot indiscretion. It is a disturbing that riggers her exrta-spicy temper and with it, a forbidden name.
Do you still love Chet? Don’t answer that question.
[WRITTEN BY AI, THEN REWRITTEN BY ME. AND PASS THE DRIER SHEETS.]