Odd But Kinda Sexy

Past Imperfect – #571

Director: “Has anybody seen Marlon? I need him on the set.”

Bitter Scriptwriter: “Why does he have to be here? My words are superb. Anybody could do this scene, assuming that they can read.”

Not-bitter Production Assistant who still believed that she could bed The Brando given the right opportunity: “Now, let’s not be so truculent, Oscar Wilde. Maybe Marlon is still caught up in that traffic jam at the craft services table, where everyone was stunned to discover the shocking lack of caviar.”

Enrique de Enrique, Make-Up Artiste Extraordinaire, at least in his own mind: “Well, I know Mar-Mar is ready to go. I personally arranged all of his chest hairs in a pattern that should appeal to our target demographic. It’s some of my best work.”

Greer Garson, co-star: “I heard him say he needed to get something posted.”

Production Assistant, eyes aglow: “Did he mention any names?”

Greer: “Honey, you’re beneath my pay grade. Go hyperventilate somewhere else.”

Producer, arriving on set for his one and only token appearance because he really didn’t know anything about making movies even though that was his job: “Where’s Marlon? They told me he would be here so he could kiss my ass. I’m not going to be happy if we don’t have any insincere worship.”

Director, fully aware that his career longevity was dependent on people who didn’t deserve any longevity whatsoever: “He’s on his way. I’m sure he’s just getting into character to make sure this scene is perfect.”

Producer: “I don’t care if it’s perfect. I just want it done. I get my bonuses for meeting deadlines, not for quality. That’s the American way. Somebody better find me some Marlon before I shut this thing down and greenlight that movie about dancing Puerto Ricans in New York City.”

Director, ruing the day he thought he could make a difference: “Understood. Nancy, could you bring Marlon to the set?”

There was no immediate response from anyone in this tableau of dysfunction.

Director, turning to the Production Assistant: “Are you not listening? Was the wetness behind your ears causing a hearing issue?”

Production Assistant: “I heard you, but my name is not Nancy. It’s Salome. You weren’t even close. How, exactly, did you expect me to make a connection?’’

Director: “I think the connection is that you want to keep getting a paycheck, correct? Now go reel in the Marlon. Do whatever it takes to get him here.”

Salome: “Got it.” She raced off, managing to toss aside her panties without impeding her swiftness in any way, encouraged by the “whatever it takes” philosophy of the director, which happened to coincide with the goals she had outlined in her diary last night. There is no shame in Hollywood, only box-office tallies.

Enrique de Enrique, perturbed by the panty-tossing and concerned that his own lusty diary might be overruled, decided to join the quest. “I’ll just go help her out. She might need some backup.” No one noticed that he snatched up an assault weapon from the craft services table sponsored by the NRA, because many people in America like to look the other way when it comes to the true foundation of a problem.

Meanwhile, off in an obscure backlot of the studio that hadn’t been utilized since the invention of sound, Marlon was checking his statistics. “Damn it. I don’t understand why my latest blog post isn’t getting any hits. What the hell do I have to do to get any traction in self-publishing?”

Brian, the real scriptwriter: “Oh, honey, let me tell you a story. But keep your shirt off while I tell it…”


15 replies »

  1. I am so distracted by the picture that anything I say will be tainted by estrogen and lots of angst. My. My. My. Let us all be thankful for what the Lord hath made available…

    I did wonder why Mr. Brando (in the days when people did want to look at him sans clothing and before the onset of adult over-obesity) had his feet and part of his legs cast in concrete or wet cement…and why there is an apparently errant strand of barb wire poking it’s bereft head skyward… Is this a prison camp or merely one of those health farms where celebs used to go to get ‘polished’ and rid of the flab produced by over indulgence in foods unhealthy for one and lots of liquor? Poor Marlo. I doubt he ever knew if people liked him only for his body or himself…

    Liked by 1 person

    • I was confused by the ambiance as well. This shot was taken on the set of “Julius Caesar”, and my mind is having difficulties matching up what we see here with the eventual movie that was released. But really, do we care? His shirt is off! Let the angels sing…


  2. Well, HELLOOOOO! “Somebody find me some Marlon…” I’ve been regaining consciousness in various ditches, with neither a drop of gin or scrap of dignity remaining, and parting my white, dehydrated lips to croak something similar for at least the past three decades, and – nothing. But you’ve inspired me to try again tonight. This time, I”m falling in the ditch face UP.

    “If it’s a girl, let’s call her – Greer!” Said no parents, ever.

    I came here by random choice of one of your THREE websites. Three! There is a point where industriousness flips over into ostentation, you know. This is a work of art and love. Please tell me you have minions.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Of course I have minions. They do my bidding, without question, and I will eventually rule the world. Or at least the street where I live. It’s still a bit up in the air. Global strategies are complicated.

      Great comment, David, although I’m still processing the intricacies of your discourse to determine if you wish me well or you merely want my minions. The enigma is enticing…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Brian, Oh, I wish you well (I wanted to add “earthling” for some odd reason.) But you are well advised to exercise caution. As you sensed, apparently nothing I say or do is without some hidden agenda. It gets, frankly, exhausting keeping up with me.

        Don’t worry about your minions, I’m sure they’re quite delicious but I’m committed to acolytes. I know you’re going, “what’s the diff”, but it’s an important distinction. Think “Nikon or Canon?”, but with flunkies.

        Where can I find out more about your book? Best, DR

        Liked by 1 person

        • The enigma flowers. I still feel that the salvation of my soul is in jeopardy, and there will be wretchedness in my future should our dalliance continue, but the darker corners of my mind feel a bit tingly. For the record, I’ve never considered myself an earthling. I merely stick around solely on the promise that they will continue serving the exquisite breakfast marmalade at the Bed and Breakfast wherein I currently dwell.

          As for my books, well, you can easily find out more if you really have a passion to do so…

          Best, BL


          • Playing the coquette, are we? I will find out more about your book. Enjoy your “Cooper’s Oxford” the traditional English way: Make your toast on an eye-level grill, place the slices in a toast rack until they are stone cold – stone cold, mind you – then scrape hard butter onto them. The toast should hurt your mouth, if you’ve done it properly. Pile on the Coopers’ Oxford. Bob’s your uncle.

            Until we meet again.


            Liked by 1 person

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