Monday, December 01, 2003

Indian Giver

A long Thanksgiving weekend. We spent about 10 hours Wednesday getting ready to host 15 people Thursday. We had a full day on Thanksgiving and a good meal. That night my two nephews (9 and 6) slept over, then went shopping with us the next day. That night we went to see ELF (just so-so) and out to eat.
Saturday morning my daughter played basketball, then my brother and son and a few friends played "Axis and Allies" into the wee hours. Once again my brother, with his disquieting affinity for Germany, knocked off my son's defense of Moscow even as I was trying to bring the British through Finland to shore up their defenses. Every time I play "Axis and Allies" I'm afraid that somewhere in a parallel universe this scenario is getting acted out.
Then Sunday I finished cleaning and winterizing post-Thanksgiving and graded a ton of papers for my screenwriting class.

Not the restful time off that I was hoping for, but the upside is that I feel like I've been off for a couple of months instead of a few days, with all that was packed in there.

On the professional front, I learned the Polonia Brothers knocked out the edit of PETER ROTTENTAIL and are finishing up the audio post as we speak. I hope to be doing a commentary track for the DVD on this one as well. I also got an update from director Bob Dennis that DEATH LAKE is about 50% done as well.

Jason Santo from sent my a big box of screeners this weekend, so I'll be checking those out in the days to come to review for his site.

And now, back to PETER ROTTENTAIL:

ROSCOE, a ragged homeless man about James' age, staggers around the corner of a restaurant and casts an expert eye on the garbage cans stacked there.
He takes a swig of whiskey from a paper bag.
Well, let's see what's on the menu!
Roscoe begins to rummage through the trash. After a few moments, he gives up.
Nopey nope! Let's go see what the three-star restaurants have tonight.
Roscoe begins staggering away, slurping booze.
A CHATTERING NOISE gets his attention. He looks around.
Who's there?
A figure stands backlit in the alley. Roscoe squints.
The pickin's are slim tonight, buddy.
The figure doesn't move.
Roscoe staggers forward.
Hey, buddy, got some change for a homeless veteran? I fought me a mess of towel heads back in Kuwait the first time around.
The CHATTERING NOISE starts up again.
Slowly, the figure's hand extends.
Rottentail is holding chattering teeth.
Roscoe inches closer, fascinated.
Then he gets the full view of Peter.
Damn, you're Fugly! That's one step above ugly. Fuckin' ugly. Looks like you got messed up in some Agent Orange or something yourself there, buddy.
Peter stares. Roscoe finishes off the bottle, and tosses it away with a CLINK into the trash. He wipes his mouth, and examines Peter again.
Wait a second. I remember you from somewhere.
A party, when I was a kid. Back before the sauce. You were a mime, or some shit like that.
Peter grits his teeth.
Hey, grubby, I'm a magician!
Roscoe loses interest, and looks around.
How 'bout you presto-chango me another drink, then?
Peter slowly pulls out his magic wand.
You got booze in there?
Sure. Want some? Open wide!
Roscoe obediently does so, and Peter squirts a slug into his waiting maw.
I've had better. What is it?
Witch's piss! Taste good?
Roscoe thinks, shrugs.
Suddenly Roscoe grabs his stomach, SCREAMING as blood and smoke run from his mouth.
Remember, don't drink and drive...on the way to hell!
Roscoe falls, as his life spills out into the dirty alley.
Peter hops away.
Lenny is concentrating on pushing a wedge of foil into a cable box when the doorbell RINGS.
It's open!
James comes in, swinging a six-pack.
Are you still trying to steal cable?
I'm not stealing anything. This is America, dammit. Porn should be free.
You're going to have to settle for free beer.
James underhands him a bottle. Lennie deftly snags it out of midair.
So my dad, and your favorite uncle, thinks that if I start doing honest work with my hands I'll stop fucking around and smoking dope and going to the gambling boats and get a real job.
That's not news.
So his new angle is that he finally thinks it's time to clean out grandma's old house and get it ready to sell. He said he'd pay me a hundred to go over there and do it.
What, you want to split it fifty-fifty?
No, I want to find some little snot-nose to do it for twenty-five bucks, and me and you spend the weekend there getting wasted on the other seventy-five.
James just looks.
Like the old days, James.
Not sure I want to go back there.
Grandma's been dead a long time.
It's not just that.
Don't wuss out, cuz!
Lenny holds out his beer.
Cowboy up!
Reluctantly, James CLINKS his beer against his cousin's.

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