To set the scene
for you, there is a coffee shop, inside the coffee shop is a man sitting at a
table lost in thought with a notebook open in front of him. Working behind the
counter is a woman. She’s not necessarily glamorous, just somewhere between hotter
than donut grease and making a grown man want to lick his eyebrows. She approaches his table with a cup of
coffee.
“You must really
be thinking of something hard, I’ve called your name three times” she says as
she puts the cup on the table in front of him. “What-oh…sorry, I was just
trying to think of something to write here. When you get a chance, can I get
some coffee?” She chuckles and points to the table. “Oh, how about that?
Thanks.” He starts to stand up. “Looking for the cream?” she asks. “Uh-huh,
just need a little bit” he says. “I know, check the color of your coffee, Mr.
Holmes” she points again to the table. “Again, thank you” he says, a little
awkwardly. “What’s with you today? It’s like you’re not even here” she asks.
“I’ve been
working on this damn screenplay for months and I can’t seem to get it to go
anywhere. The characters are flat and the plot never goes anywhere. It’s just a
bunch of people sitting around talking about nothing of any merit. This was
supposed to be my Rocky and it’s not even a Grave Robbers From Outer Space. The
Expendables two had more character definition.” “It’s about boxing grave
diggers? I thought you were writing a mystery”
“No, I mean, yes, I am writing a mystery.
Grave Robbers From Outer Space was the original title of Plan Nine From Outer
Space, you know, the Edward D. Wood, junior movie?” “Not really” she said
blankly. “Well, it’s considered by many to be the worst film ever made” “So
what does that have to do with boxing?” “Oh, um… nothing. You see, Sylvester
Stallone wrote Rocky while he was making The Lords Of Flatbush and he knew that
it was going to get his foot in the door when studios started to take notice,
so his package deal became that if they wanted the script, he had to star in it.
A few academy awards, and five sequels later, nineteen seventy-six becomes two
thousand thirteen and the rest is, as they say, history.”
“You do realize that I’m twenty-four and most
of what you just said is just words coming out of your face?” “I know, I’m
talking film with the English major, he also wrote three books, does that put
you on familiar ground?” “Close” she said with a smile. “Stallone, wasn’t he in
that movie you kept trying to take me to? Something about bullets or guns?”
“Bullet To The Head. Good movie, your loss. Walter Hill’s adaptation of the
graphic novel. I keep meaning to read it just to see how much Hill inspired the
novel, there are so many nods to his earlier work…you have that look again.”
“The one that says this is all just words coming out of your face?” “Yup” “Do
you know why?” They both laugh.
“I’ve seen Rocky,
my dad used to watch it when I was a kid” she said, “and, an old boyfriend drug
me to The Expendables, but it wasn’t that good. Luckily I was single when the
sequel came out.” “The only part of that last statement I can agree with is
that you’re lucky you didn’t see The Expendables two. You’re not one of those
people that watch Michael Bay films and Nicholas Sparks adaptations are you?”
“Nicholas Sparks is a fucking hack!” “Right on sister! I was afraid that I was
going to have to start buying my coffee somewhere else for a minute.” They both
chuckle, back on common ground.
“I enjoy a good
comedy or even a drama sometimes.” she said. “Yeah, well Stallone doesn’t do
well in the comedy genre. The less said the better; even he’ll agree to that.
Have you ever seen Paradise Alley or F.I.S.T? He wrote Paradise Alley before
Rocky but nobody took any interest until after the movie came out.” “That was
nineteen seventy what? Child of the nineties, remember?” “Home video, you ever
hear of it? When you get tired of watching Will Farrell play the same role over
and over again, check out something besides the new release wall. You should
come over to my place sometime; I’ll introduce you to a whole other world.”
“You know there’s a generation gap between us, right?” “There’s about twenty
years between Stallone and his wife, just saying.” She smiles and then changes
the subject.
“So, this mystery
you’re working on, what’s wrong with it?” “Well, there’s been a murder so of
course you have to figure out whodunit, but the main character lacks something
to give him some definition, a back story, anything.” “What if he’s in a bad
marriage? She’s trying to end it; he’s trying to keep it together but just
can’t see that it’s over?” Suddenly, his head snaps up. “Nothing is over,
nothing! You just don’t turn it off. It
wasn’t my war; you asked me, I didn’t ask you.” She takes a step back but he
grabs her hand and kisses it. “That’s it, you’re a genius, I’ll make him a war
veteran, ah-ha, perfect!” He lets go of her hand and picks up his pen and
starts writing again. She backs away and says, “Glad I could help, I guess.”
She returns to her work behind the counter.
