The Reel Deal and Other Bad Jokes
Friday, June 18, 2004
"This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers."
Last post's movie quote was from Star Wars. "The Force is strong in this one."
I shot a short film I've entitled "Soundtrack" yesterday. It featured Jeremy (9 yrs, my brother) in hip-hop garb, gettin' his groove on, walking down the sidewalk. Meanwhile, James (6 yrs, my other brother) walking down the same sidewalk, bedecked in a leather vest and a cowboy hat. Each has his own musical theme. For Jeremy, either "Stand Up" or "Shake Ya Tailfeather," off the Bad Boys II soundtrack. For James, Moby's "That's When I Reach For My Revolver," or "Sadhana," off one of my Mom's classical guitar records. They meet. They quarrel. Since it's a silent film, you don't hear any dialogue, just their music going back and forth, one louder, then the other.
At this point I turn the corner. I'm wearing sunglasses, shorts, Tevas, a Hawaiian shirt with the top few buttons open, a Panama, and I am completely oblivious, drunk and stoned into insensibility. I walk right through their argument, my "Cheeseburger in Paradise" overpowering their music. They look after me, then edge offscreen in embarrassment. The End. I liked how it turned out. I need to edit it sometime.
I hesitated. "Are they good actors?" She looked offended.
"All my actors are good actors." Then she hesitated as well. "Well, alright, there were a few that I was glad to see dead...but the majority I need. This has got to stop."
"Whaddaya want me to do about it?"
"I want you to find out who's killing my actors and stop him!"
"But you're from Gate City? I'm one of Kronston's watchmen, I can't leave my post."
"I'll pay five hundred golds per week, plus expenses."
"I don't subcontract. I'm not a freelancer anymore."
Alandria pursed her lips in thought. I mused on what they would feel like on my skin. "That's a shame..." she said. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner."
I was surprised by her sudden acceptance of my verdict, but I quite rarely turn down a dinner invitation from a girl as gorgeous as this. Broads are so random. "Sounds good to me," I said, leering in my most charming manner.
"Good," she said, snapping her fingers. I was puzzled by what this meant, but I didn't have to wait long to find out. My thoughts suddenly scattered all over the place as the dame's hired goon gave me a love tap with a lead-weighted blackjack. My lights went out faster than an alcoholic locked in a brewery.
How the hell was I supposed to know she meant dinner--in Gate City?