Friday, December 15, 2006

Create TWO Characters this Weekend!

Who are these guys? What is it that has them so terrified?


christina said...

They auditioned for "Spinal Tap: the Musical" and just found out that they've been cast NOT as Nigel Tufnel and David St. Hubbins, but rather as two of the five exploding drummmers.

GimmeABreak said...

Their names are Bobby Boyce and Tommy Hart. They just learned that they're related, both by blood and marriage, to the previous weekend's CAC, Robert.

You see, Bobby's mother Valerie and Tommy's father Sue (never mind - it's a long story), who are now married to each other but weren't when the boys were born, were fathered by Big Bad Leroy Brown - the meanest man in the whole damn town.

Leroy had done the dirty deed with Slim Shady's girlfriend, Delta Dawn, just before Slim shived him. Delta, banished by the town for being such a slut, later gave birth to Angie Baby.

Angie and Sue fell in love but Angie ran away shortly after giving birth to Tommy (Sue did an admirable job raising him as a single father, by the way).

Angie and Slim hooked up while he was on the run for Leroy's murder. They were on the last train to Clarksville when the train was ambushed by a bunch of bad-asses who thought the train was loaded with crates of the new PS3 and Wii.

Slim died in the gunfire, and Angie was seriously wounded. While she was on life support, the doctors discovered that Angie was with child and they kept her alive until the baby was born (3 months premature and he spend most of the first year of his life in newborn intensive care).

That baby, Robert, suffered damage to his optic nerves as a result of the oxygen and light therapy administered for his jaundice. He's been wearing pink-lenses glasses every since.

Anyway, Bobby and Tommy always thought Robert was a skag and they're absolutely horrified now that they have to be nice to him because he's like their half-brother twice removed or something such nonsense.

Fuck, who can keep track of all this shit when you're stoned, anyway....


Mim said...

Mark, the one on the left, met Jo-Jo (pronounced Ho-Ho) in college. He was immediately drawn to Jo-Jo's free spirit and don't-give-a-damn attitude.

It was hard for Mark to give up the strict religious ethics he had grown up with in Pig-snout, Idaho, but he'd always felt different. His immediate attraction to Jo-Jo explained why.

Jo-Jo has helped Mark shed his good-boy exterior and let his inner ho out to play. Mark has grown his hair, found a new wardrobe in the local second-hand boutiques, and even has a new nickname: Lap-Puppy.

But Mark (I mean Lap-Puppy) could not keep the two halves of his life apart forever. His parents have just arrived in town for a surprise visit and surprised him and Jo-Jo at their favorite club.

This is the picture they accidentally snapped when they saw their beloved little Mark. Look at Jo-Jo. He doesn't care.

It's too bad nobody had a video camera to record the subsequent fight and family embarrassment.

GameArs said...

When the gerbil gets out of the bag, sometimes you just need someone to hold you.

Mystery Man said...

It was the moment at last, AT LONG LAST, Mystery Man revealed himself.


Mim said...

Somebody better cut Mystery Man's hair and take him shopping for a new wardrobe, or else he'll never get laid.

Mystery Man said...

Well, I meant that they're LOOKING at me. I actually have quite nice hair. It's dark, peppered with a few grays.



GimmeABreak said...

Mystery Man doesn't care about getting laid. The only thing that's important to him is screenwriting.

Mystery Man said...

I hate to say it, but... that's true. I can be obsessive. I do go out and pick-up girls on occasion and go out on dates, although I haven't found HER yet. I will. (I know a pair of Swedish twins who'll take care of me when I need it.)

And truth be told, I occasionally send Billy Mernit tips on how to pick-up girls. It's crazy the world's foremost rom com expert struggles to get a date. (Don't get mad at me for sharing that, Billy. I love ya, buddy, I really do.)



Ann Wesley Hardin said...

I look at it this way. Writers are totally mental and if you can't engage their brain, you ain't gonna engage the body. Oh sure, maybe on a fly-by-night mission, but nuthin' permanent.

It's an odd dichotomy and one I share with Billy (though on less income, I suspect *gg*). We can write romcom, but we can't find the person who wants to live it with us.

I wonder if there's a Craig's List for that?

Mystery Man said...

Indeed! Not at all!

Yeah, we're crazy. I've gone on dates where, in everything I said, I avoided on-the-nose exposition and only said things that had subtext. That worked out quite well, actually. Hehehe...

But let it be said - find me in the right mood, I can be engaged without too much talk. After all, we ARE writers who believe in "show not tell."


Rose said...

Bobby Rocket had to keep CC Micheals (of the band Arsenic) from rushing the stage and snatching that wig off of the leader singer when they heard the first notes of the song. Damn if it wasn't the same song THEY were going to play in the finals of the Best "Poision" Cover Band contest.

Gary Sanders said...

These 2 screenwriters were frozen in 1982 to further advance the goals of the Walt Disney fellowship program. They have just been thawed at room temperature, forced to read Death of a Screenwriter & the last 3 months of the scoggins report.

Once the screaming stopped they begged to be refrozen with a wake up call of 2022. Their request was denied, but they were treated to a face first nibble of scriptgirl's twin towers of tasty titillation.

In a further attempt to stabilize their twisted melon's Marvin Acuna has invited them to a high level industry meeting in the basement of the Roosevelt hotel. Cocktails will be served. At this meeting it will be revealed to them that although they were frozen, other scientific studies were performed on their bodies. The most compelling of which is. #1 Sperm samples were used to create the perfect studio executive. Said executive is now ascending to power at the new uber studio, run entirely by screenwriters.

These 2 frostbitten writers will now take their rightful position to the left & right of their son, the ultimate power player. A new day has dawned. The day of the satisfied screenwriter is upon us. But wait, who is the mother of this studio head? What will she ask for? After all she bore this bastard (sorry Q) child of power point pontification. Never once being told who the twin father's were. Tune in next week Characterization kiddies. Be sure to wear your waders.

Rlamador said...

The two turn around at their names being called. A figure silhouetted by blinding light walks towards them, boots crunching against a floor littered with discarded pistachio shells. Snark and Lazertig squint as the figure flicks away a non-filtered cigarette, his arm now visible to them.

Snark lets out a blood-curdling scream, and Lazertig pulls him close, both unable to take their eyes off of the man now just a few paces away. The man slips on dark Rayban sunglasses, and jangles a wrist, no, a forearm full of every imaginable variety of tacky bracelet. Dozens, maybe even hundreds.

Snark's mouth hangs in silent horror. It had happened, somebody somewhere had more useless bracelet bullshit than they. Was it worse than the Holocast? Barely.

Out of the crowd behind them, someone calls out.

Hey Jangle-thon!

The enviable man, now named, waves back to his friend, the bracelets jangling luxuriously, a graceful sea of rippling plastic and tyvex in the still night air. Jangle-thon walks obliviously past the paralyzed Snark and Lazertig.

Snark crumples onto the floor. Lazertig looks up, a glaze over his eyes, the world seemingly stopping as he cradles a limp Snark in his arms.

Jangle-thon. Jangle-thon. Jangle-thon.

Pam said...

Conjoined twins, Marv and Vinny, attend the premiere of their debut butt-double film. "Oh my god. That's our ass and Julia Roberts face."

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