Back To The Cheese Platter I Go.

A cheese platter yesterday.

 Here's something I wrote a long time ago. It's still true.

Hey kids! Here's a little writing game I once had to play.

Write yourself a real short story starting with the sentence, “The rest as they say, is history,” and ending with, “My mother sat in the chair where she first saw the snake. My father lit a cigar.“

Here's what I came up with sometime last year....


“The rest as they say, is history.” And with that the screen switched to yet another fricken student film. Seven down and only another 54 to go. This was going to be one of the most tedious nights of my life.

If I need to tell you one thing its got to be this. Listen carefully. You might want to put this one away in your top drawer because you'll be needing this. No really. Stop. Write it down and put in your wallet next to the picture of your cat. This is important stuff.

When a friend asks you to come to their short film launch, do not EVER say yes. Open your excuses drawer and pull out the first thing you see.

“Thursday the 25th? Shit, sorry I've got a Scrabble tournament on that night.”

Anything.

When Mandy asked I was like you. Anything to help a friend and their two and a half minute, Super 8 masterpiece.

How wrong.

Get to the theater foyer and there's a lot of mingling but nobody there I know. At least one of Mandy's friends, me, is there to lend support. My usual partner in these situations saves me again. The cheese and kabana platter. Mandy runs past.

“Hey Mandy. Excited about..” She keeps on going.

A guy in a scarf (they all wear scarves) says it's time to go in.

After a brief 17 minute speech the films start and they are all except for one with a talking turd, rubbish.

Seven Reservoir Dogs copies, 12 bad not good bad but bad, bad splatter films, 14 'art' pieces and 83 quirky skits later it was time for intermission. Back to the cheese platter I go.

This time Mandy walks by, despondent. The film hasn't come back from the printers. It may or may not be shown tonight. Her mobile rings. “That could be him, now.” She runs off. Shit. The platter's run out of pickled octopus.

Scarf guy announces that there's another 37 wonderful pieces of work to go and not to bring wine back into the theater. Now I'm stuffed.

The first film after the break started. Another bloody voice over.... “My mother sat in the chair where she first saw the snake. My father lit a cigar.”