The creative license given to the writers and directors of motion picture is definitely one of the most giving in all of the creative realm that deals somewhat in reality. I'm not talkin Lord of the Rings type stuff which has no basis in reality, or any other sci fi film or anything with a loose idea of reality...I'm talking films with normal people in "normal" situations. For instance I woke up this morning and on my TV a quaint little film roped me in (or I could not find the remote within the reach of my arm and withouot me moving), John Tucker Must Die. Alright, so only Trevor would actually ever watch this movie on purpose, but the basic premise is all these girls feel used by this John Tucker guy and use another girl to try and hurt him...so normal people, semi normal crap going on, and of course the movie ends in a cake fight. I have been around 24 plus years and yet has any situation in my life led to a whimsical cake fight with beautiful women who I once wooed. And as the viewer, we totally accept this as an ending to a movie., especially since we (or at the very least I) do not love ultra snarky realism like that seen in Sideways. So, cake fight, four beautiful women?
The other night I was walking through a parking lot, probably 45 feet behind a car which was desiring to reverse out of its spot and leave. It did eventually back up, then drove behind me, but about 20 feet to my right until the driver of the car determined I was not going to a) suddenly dart 20 feet to my right, and get hit by their car and b)develop Michael Johnson c.1996 speed to do so so that they would have no time to react. First of all, cars are not sneaky. Secondly, I was aware that the car was there and left more than adequate space for it to drive right past me. I can only imagine the conversation going on in the car between husband and wife driver and passenger:
WIFE: Watch out for that very attractive younger man.
HUSBAND: I know honey, man he is good looking. But ever since we got that work done at the body shop to make our Nissan Sentra stealth, I always just wait for pedestrians to be out of sight and safe less I hit them or they develop Michael Johnson c.1996 speed and dart out in front of me such that I cannot control the car in time and strike them.
WIFE: You are half the man he is anyways. You could hit him and he would unflinchingly get up, open your door and pummel you with his fists, not so much out of rage, but out of a correct reaction to the situation. Then I would go home with him.
HUSBAND: Good call, I'll slowly follow behind him for the next 100 yards so we don't hit him. You should go with him anyways.
WIFE: Not this time honey.
HUSBAND: Thanks.
At the beach today, I noted some dudes wearing flippers to swim out in the ocean and my mind, being just as whimsical as a cake fight to end a messy life situation had this hilarious thought:
What if the flipper was not the first piece of equipment early inventors made in an attempt to mimic aquatic creatures? What if it was, say, a dorsal fin? Can you imagine people strapping some sort of fin to themseleves, not in an attempt to look like a shark, but rather to try and help them swim? It would be ridiculous. Then the next invention someone tried was the moving tail. Then flippers finally came along and helped out. YAHTZEE.
As I continue toiling away at work and working on writing some sort of lengthy crap that will have up to 18 haikus within, and search for improv groups out here I can't help but think of how totally dreameriffic this current life is, which is not bad as I am totally getting it out of my system, and hopefully making the rest of my life into non work because I sit around watching you tube videos, eating celery (a negative caloric food) and writing stuff with the signature ending of a cake fight (sorry John Tucker writers, I see a gimmick I like, and I steal it), whether book, screenplay, or haiku:
The cloud floats by her
Wondering where to go now
Signature cake fight
But I also think sometimes, no matter how lame this sounds, that I would like to go back to school and get some letters after my name and learn something cool and then get a cool job. And be awesome like that. And keep writing as an active hobby, both to appease all those killed by the Winchester rifle (bizarre historical reference) and to make people laugh. And the best thing is, I know all along I can do whatever the hell I want.
CAKE FIGHT ENSUES.
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