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...presents...
Another Hollywood Love Story
by Medus4
__//////\ -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- /\\\\\\__
__ Grand Imperial Dynasty __
Est. 1984 \\\\\\/ cDc paramedia: texXxt 430-11/19/2024 \////// Est. 1984
___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___ _ _ __
|___heal_the_sick___raise_the_dead___cleanse_the_lepers___cast_out_demons__|
1 EXT. GREEN FIELD - DAY
Wide shot of a vast, beautiful landscape. Red mountains
with snow-covered caps tower above a dense forest. Cliffs
overlook a sparkling lake below.
A slow zoom toward one of the cliffs. A small figure can
be seen, but she is not recognizable yet. The powerful
yet whimsical music swells as our heroine comes into
view, draped in a purple cape. Birds swirl around her,
singing the melody of the opening song.
She flings her cape over her shoulder as the music
reaches a crescendo.
At the peak of the music, we see the PRINCESS. Her
silver body reflects the surface of the lake below. Her
dials are ample, and her cord wra-
"Tony, what the fuck is this?! Dials, a cord?" Jared continued reading
the screenplay silently, one hand covering his mouth, which dropped in shock.
He reached to turn the page, and looked up. "Seriously, Tony, what the fuck
kind of movie is this?"
Tony winced, though he half expected this response. At least it wasn't
as bad as his meeting with Disney; they had called security the minute they
realized that the princess movie they had planned on buying featured a kitchen
appliance in the title role.
"I thought the studios were all about diversity these days, ya know?
Representation?"
"Tony, that means having princesses of underrepresented races, or with
different characteristics. That doesn't mean a princess that's... a toaster."
Jared sighed and dropped the screenplay on the table. "I'm not reading
300 pages of this. So, why is she a toaster? Is it because of a spell from
an evil witch? You know, Miley Cyrus has been saying she would love to do an
evil witch voiceover... maybe if we change her from a toaster to a bunny or
something"
"NO!" Tony yanked back the screenplay in horror, almost knocking over
Jared's sparkling water. The restaurant full of unemployed actors and
tourists hushed, looking at the scene. Tony nervously lowered his voice.
"No. She HAS to be a toaster, that's the important thing. Representation and
all of that. And there's no witch; the protagonist is a blender. Miley would
better quite good in the role, now that you mention it. I'm thinking Kristen
Stewart would be perfect as 'Hamilton Beach;' she hasn't done a heroine role
in a while."
Jared did his best to keep his composure, but hearing the name of the
princess, his eyebrows raised in concern. "Look, dude, I took this meeting
for three reasons. The first is because you've always been good to me, Tony,
even when I was starting out as an intern at Cartoon World. I'll never forget
how you insisted on having me help with the storyboard for 'Break the Spell.'
You're the reason I have an Oscar on my desk. Which brings me to my second
reason: you've won how many academy awards now?"
"Uh... TECHNICALLY, 14, but 2 of them were for best original son-"
Jared held his hand up to stop Tony. "No need for humbleness here. We
both know you've been writing hit animated films since I was a kid watching
them. So, what is this -- your artistic period? Trying to make something
with a deeper meaning, for film students and art houses? You KNOW my studio
doesn't have the funding for full length animation unless it's going to pay
for itself in box office and download sales."
His brow furrowed, and Jared bit his lip nervously.
Tony waited a beat, hoping his old friend would finish his thought, but
when he didn't, he nervously blurted out, "...And what's the third reason?"
Jared sighed. "Come on man, don't make me say it. I don't want to be
the one to break it to you."
He looked at the older man, whose face had crumpled. Tony was showing
all of his decades in the animation business - the eager creative executive
that Jared knew was gone, replaced by an old man whose shoulders slumped in
defeat. His face still pointed down toward the cursed script he held in his
lap, he mumbled, "It's because of the rumors, right? Wanted to see if they
were true?"
"Look, Tony, I'm worried about you. People talk, I've heard things.
They're saying you're shopping around this garbage screenplay, throwing away
your reputation, refusing to compromise on small changes. A toaster, Tony?
There's already a movie about a Brave Little Toaster. Why don't you stick to
what you know, write about princesses and witches and talking animal
sidekicks. It's what you're good at."
Tony took that as his cue to end the meeting. He shook Jared's hand,
stuffed the screenplay into his worn leather satchel, dropped a twenty on the
table for the two cups of burnt coffee, and left. The hostess looked at him
with a sneer, and Tony realized that she probably thought one of the homeless
folks camped outside of the hotel restaurant had snuck past the valets. He
resisted the urge to tell her who he was, that he was someone *important*, but
when he looked down at his threadbare chinos and dirty sneakers, he realized
he wasn't important. Not anymore.
He was a has-been.
- x X x -
As he walked toward his car, hoping he hadn't overrun the meter, he
pulled out his phone. He saw the time and quickened his pace, hoping he could
beat the meter maid before she wrote him a ticket. As he rounded the corner,
he saw her typing his plate number into her handheld ticket printer. "Wait!
STOP! I'm right here, I'll move it!"
The meter maid eyed him, and snapped her gum. "Don't matter if you move
it now. Your time was up 8 minutes ago. Time is money." She pressed a few
buttons and the ticket noisily started printing from her handheld.
"Please, lady, have a heart. I can't afford this right now. I have a
new wife, we lost our house and had to move into a shitty apartment, we lost
our baby and... and..." At the thought of their child, he broke. The tears
that had been threatening to break free of his eyes began to fall. The meter
maid ignored his distress and placed the ticket under his wiper, before
snapping her gum again and getting into her official LAPD parking enforcement
vehicle and driving away from the crying man.
He grabbed the ticket, crumpled into a ball in his fist, got into his
car, and slammed the door. He threw his satchel onto the passenger seat, and
the ticket onto the floorboards, which were already littered with empty
bottles of water, fast food wrappers, and a few other parking violations. He
put his arms over the steering wheel, resting his forehead against his hands,
and let the tears flow.
They were overdue, really. He hadn't cried since that day, when the man
came in the waiting area from the back, and told him that there was nothing
further they could do. That she wasn't built to last long, and that she was
being sent back to her maker. He cried then, and he cried now, big wracking
sobs that made him feel like he couldn't catch his breath. All of the
rejection, the studios who had treated him like he was crazy, the stress of
trying to find someone to save his child, and the grief of losing her was
finally being let out. With tears in his eyes, he slammed his fist against
the steering wheel. "They don't UNDERSTAND. I wrote this for HER."
Tony wiped his eyes, looked at his phone, and saw that it was time to
head home. His wife was probably waiting to serve dinner, and it would be
overcooked if he didn't start heading that way soon. He composed himself,
turned the ignition, and headed off into the nightmare of rush hour traffic.
- x X x -
Luckily he didn't have far to go. After taking his daughter all over the
country to specialists, they had to downgrade from his cozy bungalow in the
hills, to a small cramped apartment in Hollywood. He parked his car in the
lot, and pulled out his keys to unlock the door to the lobby. The door opened
before he could locate the key on his ring, and his elderly neighbor poked her
head out.
"You woke me up again. I don't know what you're doing to make that much
noise at six in the morning, but I'm calling the landlord to have you evicted
if it happens again, you hear me?"
Tony nodded silently. Lois Garnetto, who lived in the apartment under
his, often bragged that she had been a resident of the dilapidated building
since 1980. The landlord, who hadn't updated the wiring or plumbing in the
old high rise, seemed to only take notice of the building he managed when Lois
called him. Tony had no doubt that the old woman, with her tight white curls
and wireless bifocals, could have him evicted if she put her mind to it.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Garnetto, won't happen again."
"It better damn not, I need my beauty sleep. What the hell are you doing
in there anyway?! It sounds like a car crash, all that screeching metal."
Tony didn't answer her, and instead headed up the stairwell, and thought
about that morning's session of vigorous lovemaking with his wife. He woke up
horny and she was happy to oblige. He made a mental note to keep it down next
time, so there wouldn't be any complaining from the neighbors.
Even though his day was decidedly terrible, he looked forward to coming
home and seeing his dream lover. He loved his wife. They had found each
other a few years ago after a fateful meeting at Walmart. The thought of
going home to her, and wrapping his arms around her, lifted his spirits
slightly. He walked in, set down his bag, and sniffed the air. "Honey, is
that cinnamon I smell?"
He walked into the kitchen, which was filled with the scent of warm
cinnamon. He spotted his lovely wife, perched on the kitchen counter, her
side lever was down, and he could see that she was making cinnamon raisin
toast just for him. He picked her up and kissed her, right above her logo,
leaving a slight lip print on her polished silver surface. "Ooh baby, you're
hot today! You got your heating element all fired up!" he said, laughing, as
he set her down.
Immediately two slices of steaming toast popped out of her slots, and he
pulled them out and set them on a plate. He grabbed the butter dish, and
picked up his beloved, and set her on the kitchen table across from his spot.
He turned around to retrieve his plate, and brought it and the butter to his
usual seat. However, where his plate would normally go, an article was
printed out. He picked up the article, switching it out for his plate, and
read the title.
"Did... did you print this out for me?" he asked his wife, whose silence
he took as an affirmative. He read through the printed article, and his face
fell. "Enshittification? Planned obsolescence? Manufacturing defects?" He
looked at his wife, whose mirrored sides cast a reflection of his own sad
expression.
"Are you... are you trying to tell me that the same thing that happened
to our child... it could happen to you too?"
Once again, he took her silence as affirmation.
"No, sweetheart, it can't be, you've got a good long warranty ahead of
you."
Just to be sure, he went to his satchel and after rifling through the
papers, came up with one, a dated receipt stapled to it. He read through the
paper, looked at the date on the receipt, and the date on the sourdough-
bread-themed calendar they had hanging on the wall beside the door. He
thought of all the mechanics they traveled to see, of the first time they
heard of enshittification, how he felt cheated from seeing his daughter grow
up due to something called "planned obsolescence." He remembered the shop
workers trying to explain what was happening to her, but all the terminology
had flown right over his head. Firmware? Right to repair? None of that
mattered; he just wanted his beautiful daughter to be okay. He knew he
couldn't allow the same thing to happen to his beloved wife, the light of his
life.
When he came back to the table, his face was blank. He made no
expression to give away the stab of pain in his heart. "Well, I better eat
this delicious dinner before it gets cold!" he said to the love of his life,
and between bites, he told her about his day. "Jared read through the
screenplay, and loved it so much that he immediately called the head of his
studio, and they made an offer on the spot! We're gonna be okay, baby, this
is all going to turn around. And soon, maybe, we can try for another baby.
A boy, this time, okay?"
He finished up his toast, and took his plate to the sink. Out of habit,
he reached for the metal cleaning spray, an after dinner ritual that he and
his wife had shared everyday since getting married. After a pause, he pulled
his hand away. He picked up his wife, gently unplugged her, and wrapped her
cord around his trembling hand.
"Hey honey, how about we do something different tonight? Something more
romantic, to celebrate all the things we have to look forward to? I was
thinking, it would be lovely if we took a nice relaxing bath together."
- x X x -
And together, they walked into the bathroom, and Tony ran the water,
pouring in bubble bath he had saved for a special occasion. He plugged his
wife in, gently placed her on the counter next to the bath, laid down in the
tub, and eagerly waited for her to join him.
___________ BLATTA---NON EST----VACCA ___________
\ / \ \_ _/ / \ /
|A G L A| \ \ / / |A G L A|
L ||\/X\/|| O \ EST_ _EST / L ||\/X\/|| O
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|\ ||_3 4_|| /|NON cDc NON|\ ||_3 4_|| /|
| -------._((___))_.------- |EST | EST| -------._((___))_.------- |
|\/)(\/\ [ x x ] /\/)(\/| \ | / |\/)(\/\ [ x x ] /\/)(\/|
|(YHVH) >A \ / O< (AHIH)| \ EST / |(YHVH) >A \ / O< (AHIH)|
|/\)(/\/ _ (' ') _ \/\)(/\| \ | / |/\)(/\/ _ (' ') _ \/\)(/\|
| -------' ) (U) ( '------- | \ | / | -------' ) (U) ( '------- |
|/ || . || \| SEMENES OPTIMATES |/ || . || \|
|| / \ || DAEMONIS || / \ ||
V ||/\X/\|| E V ||/\X/\|| E
|A D N I| the original e-zine |A D N I|
/_________\ - today, tomorrow - /_________\
xXx DYNASTY xXx FOREVER xXx DYNASTY xXx
_
Oooo xXx / RULE BOVINIA \ xXx / ) __
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\__/ ) / Copyright (c) 2024 cDc communications and the author. \ . ) \)(/
(_/ CULT OF THE DEAD COW is a registered trademark of oooO
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