Saturday, April 22, 2006

Scribble Scribble

In complete contrast to yesterday's stone whacking adventures, most of today was spent as far away from being a Neanderthal as I can imagine. Mike and I spent the entire day finishing the 30ish minute play we have been pecking away at for the last few weeks. It's hardly Oscar Wilde but it makes us laugh. Actually it's nothing like Oscar Wilde at all, it's more like an attempt to see how many times we could use the word 'arse' on each page. The word 'arse' being the funniest word in the English Language - next to 'Wankel Rotary Engine', of course, but Wankel was German, and a proper noun; so it doesn't count.

It was amazing how quickly we fell into working together. Both of us quite happy to loose things if they obviously didn't work, and quick to suggest new ideas. I had fun. And it was amazing how quickly we fell into the cliched stereotype habits of all those bad 40s movies we both must have seen over the years. Two writers at work hammering out the screenplay, one pacing, cigarette in hand, outlining the action, the other, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, hat pushed back on his head, pounding the keys of a battered upright Dell. Hoagy Charmichael over the way tinkling a melancholy tune, Joan Blondell wise-cracking as she delivered the latest in an enless stream of urgent memos from the front office and putting another pot of coffee on the stove.
"How do you want it, guys?"

"Like I like my music baby, Hot and Black."

Hoagy lets out a muffled sob and plays three bum notes.

"What's the matter, Hoagy? What's that you playing?"

"Nothing boss, just a little something of my own."

"What do you call it?"

"I dunno - I guess I'll call it Jazz."

Mike snaps his fingers:

"Hey! That gives me a swell idea for the opening number..."

Cut To:
Close up of Cab Calloway in white Tux, baton in hand.

"A one two, a one two three... "

Something like that.

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