1 Hour Writing Exercise Discardia
I haven't written anything in a really long time. Gotta work that out.
Inception
Eames, Arthur... Chris Rock: The Sequel <-- rageprufrock et al. don't say I never gave you anything.
"Jesus Christ."
"That's one way to describe it," Arthur says calmly.
Eames looks at the bullet hole three inches from his right ear and waits for his balls to descend from where they've crawled up into his body in fright.
Arthur is on the other side of the planet.
Eames knows this because when he paid Chris Rock twenty thousand euros to ring up Arthur and declare Eames' undying affection, he made sure that Arthur was far away so Eames would have a fighting chance to get out of the country.
Of course that's not what happened because it turns out that Chris Rock is mates with Jon Stewart and Steve Carrell and George fucking Clooney, and how could Eames miss a chance to drink limoncello shots with George fucking Clooney?
The problem with doing shots with George Clooney is that apparently time warps and shrinks and fucking disappears so suddenly Eames is back at his hotel on Tuesday afternoon instead of Monday morning and there is the object of his affections sitting in an armchair six feet in front of the door with a handgun resting on his thigh.
"I can explain," Eames says, holding his hands up.
"Please do," Arthur says magnanimously.
"It was Chris Rock's fault."
The corners of Arthur's mouth have a natural upturn, right now they are doing their best to point downward. "It's Chris Rock's fault," Arthur parrots.
"And George Clooney's."
The good news is that Arthur puts the gun down, the bad news is that it's only to get up, cross the room and shove Eames back against the door by a hand to the chest.
"You couldn't even man up and tell me yourself?" Arthur's voice is low, gravelly. Eames' balls think now is an excellent time to descend since the rest of his body is now heating up at an accelerated rate.
"Tell you what?" When in doubt feign ignorance.
"You're fucking hopeless."
"But you still love me," Eames says hopefully.
"Sadly enough," Arthur says, patting Eames chest lightly. "I do."
Eames lowers his arms in astonishment. "You do?"
Arthur's smile is all smug amusement. "Yes, but Chris and I talked it over and a kiss'll cost you another twenty grand."
"What?"
Arthur shrugs. "It's for charity."
The Social Network
Mark/Eduardo
The chicken seems like a good idea at the time.
Mark has no idea what else you get for the man who divorced you because you chose some Silicon Valley Svengali over your him, just because aforementioned Svengali let you go to meetings in your pyjamas. And introduced you to Victoria's Secret models.
Okay, that's not really how all of it went, but that's how most of it goes.
At the end of the day, this is about a chicken and divorce and how Mark, apparently, really wants to be an asshole and is only kind of succeeding. At least this is what he thinks Marilyn told him.
Whatever the case, this is why he sends Eduardo a live chicken for Hanukkah.
The fact that he gets Federal Expressed a stale bucket of KFC in return is a start, right?
Right.
After all there are eight days of Hanukkah, Eduardo's going to have to keep one of the chickens Mark sends. Either that or Mark's about to have a very embarrassing PR nightmare with PETA.
Inception
Yusuf, Eames
"I already have children, I do not need to supervise you as well."
Eames' smile has too many teeth. "I don't need supervision."
"Lies, scurrilous lies."
"I'm hurt you think I would lie to your face."
Yusuf makes a derisory noise. "You would lie to your mother's face if you had to."
"I haven't lied to her face since I left home; best part of leaving home."
"So you have not told her about you and Arthur?"
Eames blinks. "There's nothing to tell."
"Your shirt is wrinkle-free and you smell like Arthur's shaving cream."
"You know what Arthur's shaving cream smells like?"
"I know what your aftershave smells like," Yusuf corrects. "You smelling of anything else implies you spent the night somewhere besides your hotel room. Your shirt being wrinkle-free implies a degree of fastidiousness you do not tend to employ. Finally, there is the way that Arthur keeps looking over here. Therefore, you two are shagging. Pure and simple."
Eames' look is all incredulousness. "Did you get another job as a psychic you want to tell me about?"
Yusuf grins. "I watch Sherlock, you should try it."
The Social Network
Divya/Cameron/Tyler (I cannot believe this shit doesn't exist already)
On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Divya has lunch with Cameron.
On Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday he has lunch with Tyler.
On Sunday he needs to rest. Plus there's that whole school thing.
Pretty much every morning he has breakfast with both of them although breakfast can fall anywhere between 7 a.m., after the twins first crew practice of the day, and 10 a.m. because of Divya's morning classes.
Divya is not an early riser, but trying to sleep while two people get ready for a 4:30 a.m. run to the boathouse is an exercise in futility.
Divya knows their schedule as well as he knows his own.
He may not be welcome past the bike room in the Porcellian, but he has a key to their room.
Divya met Cameron first, but Tyler was the first one to make a move. It's not a conventional relationship by any means, dating identical twin Olympians to-be, but it works for them. It works for him -- ConnectU was supposed to find them people who would be willing to indulge this choice they've made for a bit longer, but then Mark Zuckerberg had to go and fucking ruin that.
That's really what the lawsuit is about.
Inception
Eames, Arthur... Chris Rock: The Sequel <-- rageprufrock et al. don't say I never gave you anything.
"Jesus Christ."
"That's one way to describe it," Arthur says calmly.
Eames looks at the bullet hole three inches from his right ear and waits for his balls to descend from where they've crawled up into his body in fright.
Arthur is on the other side of the planet.
Eames knows this because when he paid Chris Rock twenty thousand euros to ring up Arthur and declare Eames' undying affection, he made sure that Arthur was far away so Eames would have a fighting chance to get out of the country.
Of course that's not what happened because it turns out that Chris Rock is mates with Jon Stewart and Steve Carrell and George fucking Clooney, and how could Eames miss a chance to drink limoncello shots with George fucking Clooney?
The problem with doing shots with George Clooney is that apparently time warps and shrinks and fucking disappears so suddenly Eames is back at his hotel on Tuesday afternoon instead of Monday morning and there is the object of his affections sitting in an armchair six feet in front of the door with a handgun resting on his thigh.
"I can explain," Eames says, holding his hands up.
"Please do," Arthur says magnanimously.
"It was Chris Rock's fault."
The corners of Arthur's mouth have a natural upturn, right now they are doing their best to point downward. "It's Chris Rock's fault," Arthur parrots.
"And George Clooney's."
The good news is that Arthur puts the gun down, the bad news is that it's only to get up, cross the room and shove Eames back against the door by a hand to the chest.
"You couldn't even man up and tell me yourself?" Arthur's voice is low, gravelly. Eames' balls think now is an excellent time to descend since the rest of his body is now heating up at an accelerated rate.
"Tell you what?" When in doubt feign ignorance.
"You're fucking hopeless."
"But you still love me," Eames says hopefully.
"Sadly enough," Arthur says, patting Eames chest lightly. "I do."
Eames lowers his arms in astonishment. "You do?"
Arthur's smile is all smug amusement. "Yes, but Chris and I talked it over and a kiss'll cost you another twenty grand."
"What?"
Arthur shrugs. "It's for charity."
The Social Network
Mark/Eduardo
The chicken seems like a good idea at the time.
Mark has no idea what else you get for the man who divorced you because you chose some Silicon Valley Svengali over your him, just because aforementioned Svengali let you go to meetings in your pyjamas. And introduced you to Victoria's Secret models.
Okay, that's not really how all of it went, but that's how most of it goes.
At the end of the day, this is about a chicken and divorce and how Mark, apparently, really wants to be an asshole and is only kind of succeeding. At least this is what he thinks Marilyn told him.
Whatever the case, this is why he sends Eduardo a live chicken for Hanukkah.
The fact that he gets Federal Expressed a stale bucket of KFC in return is a start, right?
Right.
After all there are eight days of Hanukkah, Eduardo's going to have to keep one of the chickens Mark sends. Either that or Mark's about to have a very embarrassing PR nightmare with PETA.
Inception
Yusuf, Eames
"I already have children, I do not need to supervise you as well."
Eames' smile has too many teeth. "I don't need supervision."
"Lies, scurrilous lies."
"I'm hurt you think I would lie to your face."
Yusuf makes a derisory noise. "You would lie to your mother's face if you had to."
"I haven't lied to her face since I left home; best part of leaving home."
"So you have not told her about you and Arthur?"
Eames blinks. "There's nothing to tell."
"Your shirt is wrinkle-free and you smell like Arthur's shaving cream."
"You know what Arthur's shaving cream smells like?"
"I know what your aftershave smells like," Yusuf corrects. "You smelling of anything else implies you spent the night somewhere besides your hotel room. Your shirt being wrinkle-free implies a degree of fastidiousness you do not tend to employ. Finally, there is the way that Arthur keeps looking over here. Therefore, you two are shagging. Pure and simple."
Eames' look is all incredulousness. "Did you get another job as a psychic you want to tell me about?"
Yusuf grins. "I watch Sherlock, you should try it."
The Social Network
Divya/Cameron/Tyler (I cannot believe this shit doesn't exist already)
On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Divya has lunch with Cameron.
On Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday he has lunch with Tyler.
On Sunday he needs to rest. Plus there's that whole school thing.
Pretty much every morning he has breakfast with both of them although breakfast can fall anywhere between 7 a.m., after the twins first crew practice of the day, and 10 a.m. because of Divya's morning classes.
Divya is not an early riser, but trying to sleep while two people get ready for a 4:30 a.m. run to the boathouse is an exercise in futility.
Divya knows their schedule as well as he knows his own.
He may not be welcome past the bike room in the Porcellian, but he has a key to their room.
Divya met Cameron first, but Tyler was the first one to make a move. It's not a conventional relationship by any means, dating identical twin Olympians to-be, but it works for them. It works for him -- ConnectU was supposed to find them people who would be willing to indulge this choice they've made for a bit longer, but then Mark Zuckerberg had to go and fucking ruin that.
That's really what the lawsuit is about.