DVD Talk Forum - An Other Story, Chapter 1

Here is an Other Love Story, a work in progress. I will edit chapter one as I see fit, and get some ideas for future installments. Hey View, wanna help with some animation? Initially I was going to ask you to write the story, but I became inspired.

Chapter One

(cue song: "If You Don't Know Me By Now", Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes)

Love is just a fond memory for Geoff, like a 20 for 25 coupon at CDNow. "I've gotta make a change in my life. The excitement has to return. Life can't be all work, no play. I need love...I need excitement, I need ad clicks. I need...nookie!"

Geoff Kleinman, the baby-faced ruler of the infamous DVDT universe, has become tired of being the test rabbit for his wife's cosmetics, since he's beginning to look like Tammy-Faye Baker with a beard. He struggles for a way to meet someone new, and then concludes, “I’ll place a personal ad. Only normal people reply to personal ads!” He grabs the nearest HFLIX memo pad, and scrambles to put his words of the heart onto the piece of paper. He sends the Willamette Weekly five bucks through paypal along with his note, and plops down into his green beanbag chair awaiting the flood of replies.

On a Tuesday morning, Cool Kitten is sitting Indian-style on top of her breakfast table, eating a bowl of Oreos in 2% milk. She is also unlucky in love, in that her husband only bought her the five-carat diamond ring, not the seven-carat with the platinum setting. As she desperately searches for the man of her dreams between the movie listings and phone sex ads, she comes upon: "You and me, no post counts, no pads, no sticky threads. My heart is yours…privacy is a must." CK's heart begins to pound, her glands overcome with desire, and she can't get her mind away from this man's sultry come-hither request for a discreet encounter.

She scoops up the phone, frantically dials the number, and using the code name "Jules Asner," she phones his WW message box. She impatiently waits through the options, and then hears the voice of her new prize, asking her to leave him an intimate message after the tone. After hearing the beep, she whispers delicately into the mouthpiece "Hi there, big boy, my name is Jules, and your ad is giving me the hot."

Later that evening, Geoff checks his messages. To his disappointment, there is only one reply in his message box. In frustration, he cries, “This is hopeless. There’s no one out there for me.” He begins to put the receiver down, and pauses. He decides to listen to the one last chance he has at finding the right girl. As the message plays, he hears the Russian accent, his eyes begin to light up, he takes a huge breath, grasps his chest, taking with it a huge clump of chest rug. After he stops screaming like a woman, and wiping the tears of pain from his eyes, Geoff grins and says, “This is it.”

Over the next few days, the two lovebirds exchange messages and agree upon a date, that they are to make a midnight rendezvous at the Squat and Gobble. He knows this place well because he once had an affair with the dark diner's coffee boy/masseuse, Mr. Max. "Damn I miss pulling that boy's mullet. But I digress...the spot is perfect. It is full of caffeine, lava lamps, and is moderator free."

It’s 11:30 and Kitty is putting the finishing touches on primping and preening. She spent two hours alone deciding what shade of black miniskirt to wear. She sighs and resigns, “This will have to do”, hijacks one last thread, and makes her way to the door of her NW 23rd loft. As she pushes on the door, she finds that she can’t budge it an inch. She is only able to slightly pry open the door, peeks out the crack and sees that she is detained by hundreds of bouquets of flowers, stacked from floor to ceiling. She drops to her knees and fumbles under the door for one of the cards. After several tries, she is able to reach one. She scoops it up, pries open the envelope, and it reads the card "Please don't be angry, I hope you didn't avoid my phone call last night over something I said- GuessWho." She lifts her eyes to the ceiling, slumps to the floor, and begins to sob, "I never should have hired that guy."

It's 11:35, and Cool Kitten is in a panic. Unless she thinks of something fast, she is going to lose her new boy-toy. With nowhere else to turn, she phones her friend, Hotaru-San. Hotaru listens with intrigue. CK begs, "Will you go and pose as Jules Asner and meet my beloved?" Hotaru happily replies, "Of course I will." However, as HS is scribbling down the details of the encounter, Jackskellington has been listening on the other phone. Jack murmurs to himself "My loveable Hotaru will fall for the Kleinster at the moment she sees him, and vice-versa. That smiling face and respectably low post-count will have her weak at the knees." In his desperation, Jack has no choice but to thwart the meeting by calling in the big guns.

"This boy had better check himself before he wrecks himself, dig?" Jack instant messages: "I need you to meet this cracker at the S&G. I want ya to make him disappear, just like Bushdog."

The screen replies "Yeah, I got yo' backside, in more ways than one. I can take care of this. He’ll be more missed than youtoo by the time I’m done with him. But tell me, what are you going to do about your old lady? That's out of my area of expertise."

"Don't you worry about her, big man. The woman can’t get enough pr0n, and I can keep her distracted for hours by showing her Thor Simpson losing a few crackers on Betho. This revolution will be televised, if you know what I mean. Oh yeah...by the way, you're Russian. Do you think you can take care of this?”

“Fool, don’t you know who you talkin’ to?”

We get a glimpse of a man in a purple silk suit, sitting at an empty poker table. His thumb is passing back and forth from his tongue to a stack of C-notes. His wide-brimmed purple hat has a pink bow wrapped around it, which perfectly matches his pink silk handkerchief. His toes are tapping along to the Temptations, his white saddle wing tips keeping time with the tune. He puts down the bundle, scoops up his PDA, and types:

“That’s right. Jules Winfield”
(cue song: “Papa’s got a Brand New Bag”, James Brown)

As he nibbles a Ritz, Jules sits back and muses over the situation at hand. "Damn_fool. I ain't a bit playa, and I ain't losin' my manchowder on no cracker action unless I get something back. I can have sweet lovin' anytime I want. Isn't that right, ho?" Whogirl stops, peeks out from beneath the table "Oh yeah, Jules baby. You more addictive than a Marlboro dipped in liquid heroin."

"That's right, baby ho” Jules barks. He sneers as he pries at his gold teeth with a toothpick. "Lovin' don't mean nuttin' to the pimp with the gimp. This ho-bag is gonna give up something else. Somethin' special." His mouth widens to a Cheshire grin, his green eyes flicker like two disco balls.

"Somethin'.....ALL MINE!"

(cue song: "I'm Sick Y'all", Otis Redding)

Jules sits in the far corner booth at the Squat and Gobble, French-inhaling his Kools, checking his watch. 11:50. He's early, but then again, Jules doesn't like surprises. He draws in the minty-freshness of the menthol, as his gold covered fingers paw at the red pleather seats. There is just barely enough wispy darkness to hide his prominent fro. His head bobs up and down every few minutes, as he glares at the platinum-blonde honey-baby perched at the counter. Goldilocks, quietly nibbling on a wheat and germ fiber strudel, dripping with a pat of Country Crocker and boysenberry jam, nods back and cracks a faint, devious smile. She turns toward the jukebox, and the top button of her shirt opens ever so slightly, revealing a gold chain with a glimmering golden testicle hanging from her neck.

To be continued.