By Car Johnson
My neighborhood is filled with whackjobs. There’s the Jenkins (of course), but there’s also the Smiths, who think aliens are coming in 2012, so they build a protective parameter around their house out of unopened Cracker Jack boxes. Apparently, aliens are allergic to caramel popcorn and salty peanuts. At least that’s what Walter Smith yells from his porch every dawn. He’s like an insane rooster, except we can’t call animal control and complain. I’d call the cops, but Walter’s a lieutenant. How he got past the psych exams, I’ll never know.
I tried to join the academy and they said I was too unstable. I may dance to the beat of my own drummer, but I’m NOT unstable. If I was unstable, I’d be running around with a gun and a list of people who annoyed me at the movies. I don’t even own a gun. I do have a list of people who annoy me at the movies, though. But I’m only going to use it for a petition to ban acting like a selfish moron during films.
How hard can it be to shut up in a theater? No one wants to know your thoughts on the plot, or your oh so witty back talk to the people on the screen. Guess what? They can’t hear you. They’re people on a screen! And cellphones should stay in your pocket. “Yo.. I’m at the movies… Some horror flick… No, my rectal exam was a mess… Hold on a sec, a bunch of jerks are grabbing at my phone.”
I take a bullhorn with me to the movies. I look around for some cellphone wielding prick who’s starting up a conversation and give him (or her) a little taste of their own medicine. You‘d think the other movie goers would cheer, but no. They end up getting mad at ME! Then I have to split before the manager kicks me out That’s why I only do it if the movie starts to suck.
I hate going to the movies and having to sit through crap. The movies are supposed to be an experience and I want to enjoy it. That’s why I never accept any more of my cousin Mark’s invitations to the private screenings of his independent “art” films. He made a movie called “Duck”, which was just a camera focused on a photograph of a duck for three hours. I could do better than that!
So I tried. I bought a digital camcorder and made my own movie. It was called “The Silly Adventures of James Bond and Godzilla in the Land of Mordor.” I even added some soft porn elements, since those films don’t have to look professional to make money. The romance between Moneypenny and Frodo was sheer genius, especially when Godzilla joined in on the action.
I used college kids to play the parts, since you can fill their heads with words like “exposure” and “great on a resume” and call it payment. I dressed up in green spandex and played the part of Godzilla myself because I didn’t think anyone else would be able to it justice.
The man who played James Bond turned out to be a mute, so I had to add a scene early in the film that showed him getting his throat attacked by an irate dwarf. His inability to speak gave his epic battle with Godzilla at the end of the movie a lot more depth. Too bad it didn’t give him better aim. He was supposed to fake a punch and I was supposed to take a dive. Instead, he clonked me right in the kisser and broke my jaw. Then the voiceless thief stole my movie while I was in the hospital!
The movie turned out to be a huge flop and the kid was expelled from school for presenting (as it said in a review) “such horrid slop that Satan himself would not be willing to inflict on the public”. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
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