I had a funny dream last night - no, not one of those - and I thought that I'd write it down as a short story and, who knows, it could become a Hollywood blockbuster. It will be a black comedy. I might write this down as a short story first (not a blog post) and think about how to take it further. It will be good.
This got me thinking of how my blog and its posts could be made into films or TV series. It would, of course mean having a lot of production input but, hey, if The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ isn't up to the job, who is?
Here's an excerpt of a hypothetical 'The Curmudgeon' script to keep you going in the interim.
ACT ONE - SCENE ONE (with apologies to Samuel Beckett)
Enter The Curmudgeon, an everyday sort of man in his late 60s, just under 5'10', fit-looking due to tennis playing, golf and walking, dressed very casually in shorts, tee-shirt and Sketcher shoes.
THE CURMUDGEON: Richard?
Enter Richard, a rater unusual looking man, of about the same age as The Curmudgeon, just over 5'10" but stooped from years of playing double bass, dressed all in black - black singlet, black shirt, black corduroy trousers and, bizarrely, black slippers.
RICHARD: (advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide apart as if he'd been playing viola, not bass). Yes, I agree with you Peter (Peter aka The Curmudgeon) I've come round to that opinion. Your posts are more interesting than mine and have a refreshing lack of musical pomposity in them. The length of the average post is to be admired and the judicious use of cartoons and photographs is clever to say the least.
THE CURMUDGEON: And the puns?
RICHARD: Yes, the punning in the titles - superb. Robert could only dream about doing something so masterful.
THE CURMUDGEON: Together again at last! United against Robert the apologetic, apathetic, apostolic and frankly appalling sinner and toilet cleaner. We'll have to celebrate this. But how?
RICHARD: I have some cleanskin chardonnay here in this bottle without a label.
THE CURMUDGEON: Ah, but Richard, how do you know that it's a chardonnay since the bottle has no label?
RICHARD: Umm, the bottle is very clean and shiny and if I hold it up to the light I can see that the wine is very clean and Robert says .......
THE CURMUDGEON: Why don't you listen to me? I've told you before. Getting wine advice from Robert's blog is like trying to understand the nonsensical wittering in the bible. Take this for example: How is it that of the four Evangelists only one speaks of a thief being saved? The four of them were there – or thereabouts– and only one speaks of a thief being saved. I find this really most extraordinarily interesting. One out of four. Of the other three, two don't mention any thieves at all. What's that about?
RICHARD: (scratching around his crotch area) Bloody tight underpants. I prefer my old big black ones. Shelley buys these for me. I wish she wouldn't look at those Calvin Klein ads of young men in tight white skants - hey! Why does she look at those ads with young men in tight white skants? She could be looking at me .....
THE CURMUDGEON: Richard, Richard, RICHARD! Please stay on topic. We were talking about .... ummm ... something ...
RICHARD: Robert's blog.
THE CURMUDGEON: Robert's blog? Ha, ha that's .....
The Curmudgeon and Richard fall about laughing.
THE CURMUDGEON: Anyway, what was that about skants?
RICHARD: Shelley wants me to look more virile.
The Curmudgeon falls about laughing.
THE CURMUDGEON: God, it's not monkey glands is is?
He falls about laughing again.
Richard and The Curmudgeon fall about laughing again.
............. to be continued.
Produced by The Curmudgeons Inc.ⓒ
Directed by The Curmudgeon.
Starring The Curmudgeon and another.
Casting Director The Curmudgeon
Music Director Another
Music Composer Another
Costume Designer Shelley
Editor Robert
Production Designer The Curmudgeon
Director of Photography The Curmudgeon
Writers The Curmudgeon and Samuel Beckett
Hairdresser (not required)
Catering The Old Girl
Transport coordinator The Old Girl
Make up artist I.T. Sover Funeral Services
Location Northland
3 comments:
Well, I'd fire the proofreader.
That was Robert the Editor's job.
Divine Mercy?
Is she your dominatrix?
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