Friday, March 02, 2007

sex film bomb



“why did i have to meet you here? you thinking of finishing your degree?”

the Doktor breathes deep. “you smell that?”

“yeah, sure. what’s it…like a grill or something. a little bit of garlic. smells good. i’m hungry, let’s get a taco.”

“no, you asshole. look around you,” he points here and there to some girls walking along paths between buildings. “that smell.”

“yeah.”

“that’s pussy.”

“really.”

“yes.”

“well, thank you for that little bit of information. hey, uh…what the fuck are you on anyway?”

“me? i’m only high on life, my friend, high on life. ah, yes. just look around you. college life. wealth. privilege. naïveté. the opportunities are wide open here. this place is largely untouched…full of young, nubile, innocent female minds, yearning to broaden their horizions and…”

“it’s ripe for a scam.”

“precisely.”

“yeah, well you can find some other lackey, ok, cuz the last time you had something foolproof, i came down with dysentery and nearly lost my pinky finger.”

“i didn’t know she was prone to seizures.”

“well, whatever. count me the fuck out.”

“look at you. all riled up and you don’t even know why. hey…would i ever steer you wrong? hmmm? don’t i look out for you? hmmm? who pulled you out of that burning building?”

“BUT YOU LIT IT, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

“my point is, i wouldn’t get you into something that wasn’t a 100% guaranteed, A-1, no-brainer money maker.”

“i get half?”

“there’d be no other way.”

“alright. i got crowd control.”

PUT THAT THING AWAY!!! Christ, can you be a little more business-like for one minute?”

“what do you mean? this lets people know that you mean business. check out the business end.”

“stop that. STOP THAT. put that away. now…just follow my lead, ok? hit the ‘down’ button.”

“you go down a lot, don’t you?”

“shut up. be professional.”

“word.”

we wait in silence. the elevator seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time, and some people have begun milling about, waiting for the car to take us all south. when it arrives, we step on and i cordially hold the door for some stragglers.

as i am surveying the scene, the Doktor says, “35 millimeter.”

“what?” i say.

“the cameras,” he says, rather loudly. “i’ve got them out in the van.”

“huh? oh. OH!!! the cameras. right. sure. in the van. gotcha.”

“yeah,” he says, “we’ve got the house for the weekend. it’s laid out. Lance is gonna shoot this one.” the elevator stops and a few people get off but no one else gets on. the car continues on it’s way.

“Lance,” i say, “i like him. cool guy.”

“yeah…it’s a pretty big budget, considering. all we need now is another actress.”

“who are the others?” i say. the Doktor doesn’t answer, but looks at me sideways, then full-on. he’s gritting his teeth together, and nodding his head towards a Blonde standing next to him. “hello,” i say to her, but she just rolls her eyes and looks at the lit numbers descending above the elevator door. when it reaches the bottom floor, everyone except me and the Doktor files out.

“what the fuck was that?” he says.

“yeah…what the fuck was it? what were you trying to do in there? set me up for a date?”

“no you asshole. we’re doing a porno shoot.”

“we are?”

“yeah.”

“since when?”

“since when? WHAT DO YOU THINK THE PLAN IS???”

“i don’t know, man. i don’t know what’s up with your…selection.”

“my selection?”

“yeah. i thought you said this was a sure thing. and then you’re all motioning towards that Blonde. i mean, she totally wasn’t my type.”

“you have got nothing to do with it?”

“what do you mean? i’m a co-owner of this business.”

“you’re about to be the sole owner of a black eye.”

“oh yeah?”

“YEAH!!!”

and we begin to fight, punching and rolling around in that filthy elevator, full of cracked-rust piss stains and black water from slushy winter boots. the elevator doors open at the top and there are about a dozen or so people waiting to get on. we quickly pull ourselves from the floor. i fix my tie and cordially hold the door for some stragglers.

“we good?” the Doktor says.

“beautiful,” i say, “ok.”

after a few floors, the Doktor says, “35 millimeter.”

“perfect,” i say. “those are amazing for some tight beaver shots. you got lens caps this time?”

“what?”

“cuz last time, juices were flying everywhere. and forget about it once that shit dries. it took those guys hours to chip it off. remember that?”

“uh…yeah,” he says, “and we’ve got the house rented for the weekend. it’s…”

“fucking fantastic,” i say, “i can’t wait to get those girls in one of those wicker chairs out on the patio. put some red marks on their ass. and that swing,” i say, “WOO-HOO!!! those bitches will look like they’re skiing. a pole in each hand, baby. A POLE IN EACH HAND!!!”

“hey…keep that shit under wraps a bit,” the Doktor says.

“i ain’t wrappin’ shit. i’m goin’ in bareback. make sure them bitches got their tests up-to-date. and no crabs like last time either.”

“Lance doesn’t like a lot of…”

“NO-PANTS LANCE!!! holy shit. he’s gonna be there too?”

“yeah…it wasn’t easy getting him to come by for the shoot. he’s a very famous…”

“that pervert. hey, is he still making those barnyard films down in central Texas? cuz if he is, i don’t want nothin’ to do with that dude. hey, tell me something. who’s greasin’ up the midgets?”

“…uh…i don’t know anything about that, but we’ve got a really big budget for this…”

“you hear that bitches? we got a big budget for this one. you know what that means!!! you’ll be doin’ blow offa boners in no time. now, who wants to be a movie star? hmmm? you? you? no? anyone? how ‘bout you? hey, it’s cool. we got some lesbian scenes, too. looks like you’d like that, no?”

the elevator door opens and a few of the girls run off, a few more turn and stare and utter obscenities at us. and one, just before the door closes again, turns and sprays me and the Doktor with pepper spray.

“ouch.”

“MY EYES!!! MY EYES!!!”

“calm down,” i say, tasting the familiar sting on my lips. “it’s only pepper spray.”

“MY EYES!!!”

“will you relax? it’s not mace. now come on. i’ve got some milk in the car. we can wash our eyes out.”

“i…GODDAMMIT this shit stings.”

“you get used to it. it’s like eating hot peppers.”

“what?”

“you build-up a tolerance.”

“i…i thought…YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW MY LEAD!!!”

“what are you talking about? where you in the same elevator? i did. i mean, i thought i did a pretty good job. hey, you still got those cameras? cuz i know someone who will take them off your hands. plus i still get half, right?”

“awww fuck. where are we? i’m hungry. let’s get a taco.”

1 Comments:

Blogger Dok Johnson said...

Another shining example of the subtlity of Mr. Johnny St. Claire.

And another thing, if you're in a wheelchair, what difference does that make on a website? Why? I don't understand. You can't "surf" the "net"?

7:30 PM  

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