Pectorals at dawn: Act I, scene 1.
The following dialogue is brought to you by sleep deprivation, five coffees, and several Tylenol Cold & Sinus tablets. Inspired by commentor jackp's image of Tom Cruise and Matthew McConaughey stranded together on a desert island.
The scene: A beach on a desert island in the South Pacific. The rising sun reflects off a brillant surface in the distance. Pan forward. It is Matthew McConauhey's six-pack. He is lying on the beach with a palm frond across his face.
Tom Cruise approaches, carrying a hand-made harpoon in one hand and three large fish, strung on a makeshift rope, in the other.
TC: C'mon man, it's a beautiful day!! I caught us some breakfast!!! Get up and grab life by the balls!!!! We need to live this to the max, man!!!!! It's not like they aren't scrambling every spare military jet in the free world to get out here and find us!!!!!! Wanna do some power sprints?!
MM (croakily): Shit Tom, you know my mama always taught me to see the rose in the vase, not the dust on the table. But I am seriously jonesing this morning.
TC (smile faltering temporarily, then quickly recovering): Ha! Ha ha!!! Good one!!! (sees that McCannabis isn't laughing). J...jonesing man? What, as in, going through withdrawl from some kind of...ha...umm...uh...some kind of ...aa...DRUG? (laughs, eyes virtually disapearring in crater-like smile lines)...C'mon man, I can't believe that.
MM (still hasn't moved, palm frond lifts slightly as he talks through it): Naw man, not DRUGS. Weed. You know...ganja, mary jane, cannihavit. Hey, you don't happen to have any on ya, do ya? I'd be much obliged...
TC (disgust replacing his permagrin, steps back from McConaughey's side, running fingers dramatically through still-perfect hair): Do I...you want to know if I...you're saying do you...NO! NO I DON'T have any DRUGS, man. DRUGS destroy your spirit and drain your virility, man. They stop you from reaching the Next Level, like me.
MM finally moves, puppeting right hand in a 'blah blah blah' motion. Cruise sees this and stops walking in dramatic circles and pulling at his hair. One of his fish falls into the sand. He looks at the limp fish, then back at MM. His jaw clenches and does that painful-looking jaw-muscle pulse thing.
Close-up on MM's face, which can now be seen through the frond. His is smirking sidelong at TC. Without warning, he hand-springs to his feet, striking a pre-tackle pose in front of a shocked TC. MM slaps one of his own ass cheeks and swings his left leg forward like a sumo wrestler.
MM: Whassamatter dude, can't handle the pressure? You're trapped on a desert island with nobody but a ganja-smokin' good 'ol boy! None of yer little zoology friends here to help you now, pardner!
TC: Scientology.
MM (hesitates): Huh?
TC (sighing impatiently): It's SCIENtology. You said ZOOology.
MM (shrugging): Whatever. (Strikes sumo pose once again) All I care 'bout right now is an APology. From you. For insiniatin that yer better'n me.
TC (sniffily, then recovering the permagrin once again): I'm not going to apologize for being right, man. I'm just trying to help you be the best you can be.
MM roars at this, hurling himself at TC. Both men fall to the ground and immediately roll off each other and spring up to their feet, looking around expectantly for their stunt doubles. A few moments pass before they remember they're not on a movie set. Recalling that he has just been physically assaulted, TC turns huffily to MM, pointing his index finger in MM's face and shaking his thick, shiny hair.
TC: This is NOT over, man. (Smiles fetchingly, then leans in menacingly, frowns, laughs, frowns again. Voice drops to a whisper.) You think you can win this, but you can't. (Points index and middle fingers to his own eyes, then to MM's eyes in an 'I'm watching you' move). I'll have my eye on you, my friend. Don't forget it. (Smiles again, then turns and starts striding away, flexing buttocks meaningfully).
MM lies back down and stares up at sky.
MM: Yes, my friend. And I'll be watching you. (Looks meaningfully into nonexistent camera, then places palm frond over face.)
Stay tuned...
The scene: A beach on a desert island in the South Pacific. The rising sun reflects off a brillant surface in the distance. Pan forward. It is Matthew McConauhey's six-pack. He is lying on the beach with a palm frond across his face.
Tom Cruise approaches, carrying a hand-made harpoon in one hand and three large fish, strung on a makeshift rope, in the other.
TC: C'mon man, it's a beautiful day!! I caught us some breakfast!!! Get up and grab life by the balls!!!! We need to live this to the max, man!!!!! It's not like they aren't scrambling every spare military jet in the free world to get out here and find us!!!!!! Wanna do some power sprints?!
MM (croakily): Shit Tom, you know my mama always taught me to see the rose in the vase, not the dust on the table. But I am seriously jonesing this morning.
TC (smile faltering temporarily, then quickly recovering): Ha! Ha ha!!! Good one!!! (sees that McCannabis isn't laughing). J...jonesing man? What, as in, going through withdrawl from some kind of...ha...umm...uh...some kind of ...aa...DRUG? (laughs, eyes virtually disapearring in crater-like smile lines)...C'mon man, I can't believe that.
MM (still hasn't moved, palm frond lifts slightly as he talks through it): Naw man, not DRUGS. Weed. You know...ganja, mary jane, cannihavit. Hey, you don't happen to have any on ya, do ya? I'd be much obliged...
TC (disgust replacing his permagrin, steps back from McConaughey's side, running fingers dramatically through still-perfect hair): Do I...you want to know if I...you're saying do you...NO! NO I DON'T have any DRUGS, man. DRUGS destroy your spirit and drain your virility, man. They stop you from reaching the Next Level, like me.
MM finally moves, puppeting right hand in a 'blah blah blah' motion. Cruise sees this and stops walking in dramatic circles and pulling at his hair. One of his fish falls into the sand. He looks at the limp fish, then back at MM. His jaw clenches and does that painful-looking jaw-muscle pulse thing.
Close-up on MM's face, which can now be seen through the frond. His is smirking sidelong at TC. Without warning, he hand-springs to his feet, striking a pre-tackle pose in front of a shocked TC. MM slaps one of his own ass cheeks and swings his left leg forward like a sumo wrestler.
MM: Whassamatter dude, can't handle the pressure? You're trapped on a desert island with nobody but a ganja-smokin' good 'ol boy! None of yer little zoology friends here to help you now, pardner!
TC: Scientology.
MM (hesitates): Huh?
TC (sighing impatiently): It's SCIENtology. You said ZOOology.
MM (shrugging): Whatever. (Strikes sumo pose once again) All I care 'bout right now is an APology. From you. For insiniatin that yer better'n me.
TC (sniffily, then recovering the permagrin once again): I'm not going to apologize for being right, man. I'm just trying to help you be the best you can be.
MM roars at this, hurling himself at TC. Both men fall to the ground and immediately roll off each other and spring up to their feet, looking around expectantly for their stunt doubles. A few moments pass before they remember they're not on a movie set. Recalling that he has just been physically assaulted, TC turns huffily to MM, pointing his index finger in MM's face and shaking his thick, shiny hair.
TC: This is NOT over, man. (Smiles fetchingly, then leans in menacingly, frowns, laughs, frowns again. Voice drops to a whisper.) You think you can win this, but you can't. (Points index and middle fingers to his own eyes, then to MM's eyes in an 'I'm watching you' move). I'll have my eye on you, my friend. Don't forget it. (Smiles again, then turns and starts striding away, flexing buttocks meaningfully).
MM lies back down and stares up at sky.
MM: Yes, my friend. And I'll be watching you. (Looks meaningfully into nonexistent camera, then places palm frond over face.)
Stay tuned...
posted by whyioughtta at 9:35 AM
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