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A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
There is a so-called island rule in science, which says that evolution drives larger species to become smaller on islands due to a lack of food and other resources, which for me sounds exciting, but unfortunately, brings up one important, yet unanswered question: What about Godzilla?
“No, I won’t go cycling,” Henry told his wife, reminding her for what seemed like the thousandth time that they’d never be able to outrun Godzilla on bikes, and that just because they lived in Toledo was no reason they shouldn’t live cautious lives.
Sixteen pages into my screenplay I realized that even though I had to fire the Mothra puppeteers, dressing a guy up in a rubber dinosaur suit and having him stomp Tokyo was superb drama and needed nothing added to keep an audience at the edge of their $7.50 seats.
Realizing that in screenplays one page is equal to approximately one minute it seems that I may have created a new genre for people with ADD: Run for your lives Godzilla is eating Tokyo…hey, is that one of those new Prias….I could really go for banana split….this under wire is really digging in….I am dying….ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
The real threat to Japan if their nuclear reactors meltdown will come from Godzilla; If I were them I’d be watching the beach front.
Sons and daughters ‘o bitches is what you all are, constantly expecting me to save you from both yourselves and others, what a hoot, I cant recall where in my job description it says anything about being a glorified therapist for a bunch of whiny, simpering mortals with their their little dogs that nip at my heels even after I’ve saved their owners’ lives, it’s both galling and insulting that I’m somehow responsible for preserving this ‘society’ of ingrates, why last week I was flying along (as one does) minding my own business when I see this train careening out of control toward a cliff and my first impulse was to find and destroy the person who built the train track so close to a cliff, because only someone either criminally negligent or desperately stupid would place a means of transport that close to doom (humans being forever inclined to various forms of self-mutilation), but I digress, so there I am flying along, humming some Christopher Cross (I think it was, Arthur’s Theme, the one that goes ‘If you get caught between the moon and New York City’), when I see the impending doom, swoop down, and stop the train with yards to spare and instead of thanks, this gaggle of women waddle up complaining that the abrupt stop ruined their dinner, their trip, Christmas, and to hear them tell it probably caused puppy death on scales heretofore unimagined in the annals of injustice, so at this point point I snap and do something rash, e.g. I pick up one of the portly complainers and toss her into the abyss, I know, poor form, but she had it coming and wouldn’t you know it, there was an off-duty cop on board who sees my transgression and demands that I cease and desist, enact some sort of citizen’s self-arrest, and allow him to cuff me, but I refused because first of all being told how wrong I am by a guy wearing a fanny pack and a t-shirt with an eagle superimposed over an American flag underneath the words, ‘These colors don’t run’, is ridiculous and second, the bitch had it coming, although it turns out the president doesn’t think so, because he decided to send in the Army with their adorable little tanks and ooooh booga booga, big bad tank gonna do bad things to the superhero, really, kids, are you sure, because I CAN DESTROY SHIT WITH MY EYES, remember, do you recall that one time when I saved Europe’s ass by using my eyes to destroy an asteroid headed for Malta (as if it would’ve been a huge loss), oh, sure you don’t, surprise surprise, jackasses, well tell you what, next time godzilla decides to rise from the briny deep and start treating Japan like his bitch, don’t call me, don’t shine any signals into the night sky, don’t do anything, just leave me the hell out of it, you’re all on you’re own, welcome to hell, lemmings.
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