Tuesday, January 13, 2004

Lady Marmalade

Last night I saw my wife and teenaged daughter having a heart-to-heart in the kitchen so I quickly slipped away and put on "CSI: Miami" in the family room. After she went to bed I learned my daughter was upset that there was a rumor going around school that I was making porn movies, and didn't want me to know.

I noted to my wife that it had suddenly it occurred to me why some of the dads may have been warming up to me at the ball games.

But my brief euphoria was collapsed rather abruptly when my wife said ,"Not directing, just writing them." Writing porn movies? There's writing? Who does it, the guy who also launders the sheets?

But what are you gonna do? Go to the high school and say over the PA, "There's only one shower scene in the Bigfoot movie, but it was tastefully done, and the only sex scene in the killer rabbit movie features a guy in a rabbit suit"?

I feel my daughter's pain, though. It's hard enough being in high school; perhaps doubly so if your dad is considered a porn king.

And speaking of which, we have actually now arrived at the aforementioned scene in PETER ROTTENTAIL:

CUT TO:
INT. STRIP CLUB -- NIGHT
High angle shot down on Lenny, looking up and smiling.
Low angle from Lenny's POV, looking up at a STRIPPER doing her routine.
Feature Lenny again.
LENNY
Tasty!
Feature the stripper dancing.
CUT TO:
INT. ABBY'S HOUSE (LIVING ROOM) -- LATER
Abby watches another romantic movie and drinks from a bottle of wine. The phone RINGS.
ABBY
Hello?
CLAIRE (V.O.)
Hey, girlfriend. Why don't you come out with us tonight?
ABBY
No way, Claire. I can't face another night of rejection. All I've laid lately is a big goose egg.
CLAIRE (V.O.)
Don't be that way, Abs!
ABBY
I'm just going to stay in and watch TV.
CLAIRE (V.O.)
Okay, hon. Good night!
ABBY
Good night.
Abby hangs up the phone dejectedly. She looks at the screen.
ABBY (CONT'D)
I have got to switch to action movies.
She shuts off the television and makes a loopy path towards her bedroom.
The doorbell RINGS.
Abby spins on one rubbery leg and faces the door.
She goes and flings it open.
Peter stands there, a wide, crooked grin on his face.
ABBY (CONT'D)
Who are you?
Peter says nothing. Instead, he takes his hat off and whips a bouquet of flowers from it.
He hands it over to Abby.
She looks at the flowers, tears starting up. Then she looks up and squints at Peter.
ABBY (CONT'D)
Well, any port in a storm.
She grabs Peter by the lapels and yanks him inside.
CUT TO:

Give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.



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