Genius

(SNIIIIIIIFFF).

J: So it’s like Last of the Mohicans meets Rush meets True Romance and then meets, uh, 9/11 footage?

O:I dunno, 9/11, not so hot right now. Don’t get it twisted now, five years down the road…Who knows, y’ know?

J: Hmmm. No. No 9/11. Axe the 9/11. Erase it from your mind completely. This movie will be the exact opposite of 9/11.

O: Can’t

J: What?

O: Can’t. The erasing thing. From the mind, I mean. You just said it…

J: Why?

O: I dunno, I was never able to do that cause if I’m not supposed to think about something and then I think about not thinking about it I invariablybegintothinkaboutitjusttospitemyselfso….Then I just go ahead and think about it cause it‘s like , Dollar…Dime…Penny…Pound.

J: ?

O: Ah. Wow. Yeah. Hmm. So it’s a what again? it’s a bush?

J: ‘s a tree. Big fuckin’ tree

O: Big fuckin’ tree. OK. Loving this.

J: Yah. Yep. Tree.

O: OK. OK.

J: Yep. And there’s a soldier. A fighting man. Honorable, but tainted. Cause, ya know, he fuckinnnnn, he killed people. Dead people.

O: He re-killed those who were already dead? How? When? That’s really something.

J: No not re-killed he just killed. Once. And then his victims are dead. Y’know, like, right after that, and yes: In a war. Not this war. Another war.

O: “Victims” ? I’m not sure they call them that in a war.

J: No they do I checked it out on the internet. Still “victims” .

O: I dunno. Wars, Veterans. Trees. Not so hot right now. Who knows, maybe five…

J: No. S’not about any of those things except trees. And there’s a little war. And some trees, but that’s all. It’s like Tarzan meets himself in a possible future, meets Face / Off meets Braveheart meets Bladerunner.

O: How about the Matrix? Can we make it meet the Matrix?

J: No Matrix-meeting.

O: “KIA”, “enemy dead”, “body-count”…Not “victim”. Never “victim”.

J: Yah. Oh, and I forgot: he’s got no legs.

O: Yeah. Wait what?

J: No legs.

O: I got that. But he’s a soldier. How can…

J: Was a soldier. He got his no-legs-ness being a soldier in a war.

O: See? Now there you go…

J: What?

O: You said it again. Why did you say it again?

J: What?

O: Again, you said it. What. What?

J: What?

O: No legs. Right. War. You said no war movie no?

J: No. I said no war in the movie. But I lied. There is. There is war. In this movie. Not yet, because -of course - no movie yet. Yet. YET. Yet yet yet yet yet yet yet yet yet yetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyetyet…“Yet” sounds weird if you say it lots of times over and over.

O: Then. Wait. Confused…It is a war movie?

J: Is that a question?

O: Kind of, and no.

J: What? Fuckin‘…I said Right. What I say? Never mind. Guy’s got no legs. None.

O: (Sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif…Snif.)

No legs.

J: Not legs. wait a minute.

O: What the shit fuckin’ shit does that mean?

J: You caught that? ‘No legs wait-a-minute“. Sounds like a ballplayer: “…And stepping into the box is Nolegs Waitaminute. A lusty .340 on the year with an AL-leading record 103 RBI’s. Ha! Too much. Anyways: The guy’s got no legs. But now I’m thinking he has legs. He definitely has legs. Legs now.

O: Dude, you gotta figure out if this dude’s got legs.

J: He does. But useless. Atrophy. Vehicular.

O: No?…Wow. What’s “Atrofee”

J: You said “vehicular” . You meant “Vestigial.”

O: What I said, I don’t even care he color, fucking guy has legs. Vestigial, Cyan, Magenta who gives a fuckin’ fuckin’ fuck.

J: No. I said it. You: “vehicular“. No. Incorrect. Anyway, either way, he does. They are. Now they want to put him inside this other guy. ..

O: Inside? Inside? Inside? Inside? Inside how? The guy eats him?

J: No. Nope. Ahp.

O: Ah yes, the old “Burn to ash and snort him” trope. Well played. And: Isn‘t it?

J: Nah. Uh uh. And Thanks! And: roasting a guy and snorting his remains is hardly a trope.

O: Look at you getting’ all wordy on me. ‘Scuse me mister speak and spell.

J: I’m not…

O: Hold on. Hold up. The only other way is…Wait, (whispers) up his…uh…?

J: Non.

O: Oh. Phew! Oh. Wow. ‘Cause I was gonnna say, I’m like…Woah.

J: No. I mean…

O: SHRINKING! How did I miss it? But I’m not sure. Shrinking people isn’t so in right now. Maybe in five years…

J: No shrink. And no air quotes. You just say “in”. The blue things are…

O: Wait, blue things? And I DID just say “in”. I thought they were Indians.

J: No, no. You air quoted again. It’s just “in” . No little quote thing motion.

O: No, I said “Like Indians”

J: Blue isn’t like Indians. Red is for Indian. Blue is a smurf. No quotes. They’re not Smurfs though?

O: No, Smurfs are over for now. Don’t get me wrong…Coupla’ years…

J: Who knows?

O: Who indeed?

J: Anyway: Blue. Not Smurfs. Also: Giants!

O: Woah. Blue giants. Ok. Ok. Meta, but stupid / meta. Good for the kids. Old folks.

J: Yeah old folks will LOVE this fuckin thing until they begin to crap uncontrollably and have to be fucking sedated.

O: I was going to say: “Old folks, this is not for old folks.”

J: Well make up your mind.

O: I have.

J: Whatever. They’re giants. Not like GIANT giants, but giant enough. Big.

Big like what?

O: What?

J: What?

O: What big like uhhhhhhhhhh…Fuckin……uhhhhhhhhhhhhfuckinporpisesorfuckintallasabasketballhoop.

J: That’s big. Not giant.

O: Ok they’re big and blue and not giants. No wait, they find a way to get the guy into the big blue giant. Sort of if Casablanca if it had been made exclusively with mimes and using NO dialog.

J: Like he’s in a false leg?

O: No. Fuck no! Where the fuck is a false fuckin’ leg? These people live in a great big, gigantic, big fuckin’ tree…

J: Ah. No health care. Like Philadelphia with being a cripple instead of gayness. Or - even better - like Oliver Stone’s JFK meets Oliver Stone’s Wall Street.

O: Dude. No. No health care. But they’re magic, a little.

SNNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIF…(Cough)…(gasp)

O: (continuing): Fuckin’ they’re fuckin’ magic now. OK. Damn dude. Fuckin GRR Torken motherfucker.

J: Tolkein.

O: Token?

J: Tolkein.

O: For what now? The blue guy’s name’s Token? I’m not sure. Have we tested that? Jackie? JACKIE.

Disembodied Voice From Desk Phone Speaker: Yes sir.

O: Jackie. Fuckinnnnnnnnn. Shit. OK, I forgot why I rang you.

(Silence)

O: Ahp. Yes. Good. I remember now. Did we test anything regarding the new thing?

J: Which? What?

O: You know. The thing with the…

J: The blue guy.

DVDS: Smurfs? No. Didn’t we shelve that? Smurfs are so played. No? Don’t get me wrong, five years from now…

J: Right. OK.

DVDS: Is that all?

J: So now he’s in the blue guy. But here it is: he loves it too much. He’s getting Brasco’d by the giant blue Indians.

DVS: What was that?

O: No good dirty fucking Indians. Always with the confused ideals and loyalties.

J: Fuck no.

O: Fuck no.

J: So he thinks he can just walk, but then…

O: Then…

J: THEN…

O: Then?

J: Then he can’t just fuckin’ walk. He’s to deep.

O: It’s personal. Also, no fuckin’ legs!

J: It’s personal.

O: Like Citizen Kane if it was a stripper’s fake name instead of a play.

J: Movie.

O: No. I meant the play. What?

(a full 63 seconds of silence)…So then, the big fuckin tree….

O: What?

J: Well…The tree. It’s…

O: Chopped?

J: Chopped!

O: By who?

J: Whom?

O: I don’t fuckin know. You really have to think this thing through dude.

J: No. I know.

O: Now you sound like my wife.

J: No. I know. I mean I know.

O: OK whatever. I’m telling you: The bad guys kill the tree. Knock it over. Shades of Pearl Harbor. Shades of Victory Garden…

J: And 9/11.

O: No. Wait. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. The whole thing is just like 9/11.

J: Just like it 9/11.

O: Wait though. I dunno…9/11 is a bit played right now. Don’t get me wrong…

J: Five years.

O: I was gonna’ say ten.