Past Imperfect – #297

SR 1297

Joan: “Oh, my lover, you excite me so.”

Cliff: “Really? That’s news to me. I’ve seen stronger signs of life at a mortuary.”

Joan: “Oh, silly, this is such a romantic setting. How could I not be in the mood?”

Cliff: “Romantic? This is a fake park bench on a fake set with two stupid fake trees looking like they want to be anywhere but here. I know the feeling.”

Joan: “But I’m clutching a branch from one of the fake trees to show my devotion.”

Cliff: “Devotion? Based on the limpness of your grasp, somebody needs to call a priest.”

Joan: “Fine. I’ll dispense with the professionalism, something you youngsters don’t know about. My hand is limp because your love-making is less interesting than cleaning the lint out of the dryer trap.”

Cliff: “My love-making? It’s a two-way street, sister. You need to let go of some of your rules. I can’t smear your lipstick, I can’t smudge your foundation, I can’t wrinkle your dress, and I have to wrench my back by leaning over this stupid bench, and I can only kiss your ear.  Lovers don’t have rules, Morticia.”

Joan: “Lovers have rules when one of them has won an Oscar and the other hasn’t yet.”

Director: “And, cut! Good scene everybody, very believable. Let’s prep for the next shot. Be careful with those fake trees. Something tells me we’re going to need them a lot for the rest of the movie.”

Joan: “This means you can take your hands off of me, Second Billing.”

Cliff: “I’d love to. But the weight of your ego has caused my arm to go numb.”


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