Before I disclose what I have of my story "This Will Be A Movie" I will give you some background. "This Will Be A Movie" Is a story that..well I hope to turn into a film. The reason I am writing instead of filming is A.) I don't have the equipment to film a movie because I was editing with my school macbook and school ended before I could get halfway through the filming process. So writing is the only way I could keep my character Summer alive and still fresh in my head and this forum is..well the only place where I can share it with out being laughed at in person. Also I am far from done with this so expect more. Also word of advice this is the "furry version" where Summer is his fury version as opposed to his human film version. We open with Summer recollecting on his typewriter on a certain "adventure" he had in the late 1960s. Also before you read you should know Summer is 9237 years old, has 4 hearts,5 stomachs, and two livers If you wish to know more about the inspiration and back ground of the character please feel free to ask. AND AWWAAAAAYYY WEE GO
June 23rd, 1968 2:30 am - The club was vibrant, flashy. The sound of Steppenwolf's Magic Carpet Ride caressed my ears and filled me with good vibes and a smile. I remember walking to the bathroom lighting a joint as a pass all of the half naked sweaty bodies of the club. It smelt like a mixture of body odor and weed but everyone was too busy either making out or dancing to notice. As I approached the men's room door a unknown face popped up and said words that barely made out to “Hey want some LSD friend?”. My eyes widened as did my smile and that's all he needed to qualify as a yes. He handed me a few tabs, gave me a hug and left. The hug was unexpected but welcomed .As I enter the bathroom I remove the joint from my mouth and exhale a cloud of smoke which left the room in an instant as I opened the stall door and witnessed the markings left by a clearly stoned individual which read “F*CKIN’ A” all in red. I marveled at the words for a moment and then proceeded to take the dump that has been brewing from the pizza and booze that have been consumed that night. I unzipped and dropped my trousers and undergarments and sat down on the rusty toilet. The sound of shit escaped the walls of the stalls and echoed throughout the room. I smirked at my loud asshole and proceeded to eat the lsd. I exited the restroom and began my journey to the bar which not surprisingly had but two people. I sat down and spun around to the bartender. He was half drunk and or stoned, I could see it in his marble sized pupils and oped mouth as he stared at the band playing. It took him a moment to realize it was me and another to realize I wanted a drink. His eyes widened and let out a cheery greeting “Summer, man how've you been” I responded “ Oh you know, out of prison” he cracked up to this and nearly fell. I broke his laughter “How about you, man?” he stood up with tears in his eyes “Good , man haha”. After a moment of recovery he got me the drink I was after. The drink that's like desert. The drink to wrap up a night. “You gonna join ‘em?” interrupted my sip. He pointed at the dance floor, I turned and looked at all of them. The drunk, high, or both. Not a sober man or woman was on that floor, not entirely anyway. I pondered for a moment then pointed ‘“Them” I said “I dont think so”. “Oh come on, man” his voice pleaded “It’s fun”. “It’s not my kind of fun” I echoed in my cup. “ That my friend is a display of psychotic, wild, and beautiful chaos” I took another sip “ A chaos that I have no business interrupting”. I put my joint between my lips and inhaled, the LSD has taken its effect as my drink seemed to melt in my hand. A normal person would freak out to this. A person who has never been to one of these kind of parties before. But this being my fifth time being here I learned to welcome the effects of the acid. One simple 180 degree turn and the beauty is enough to make a man cry in joy. I didn’t turn yet however, I simply exhaled and ashed my joint. A excited face sprung out “Mind if I take a hit, man?”. “F*ck, man, you can have the rest of it” I passed the joint to the cute eyed chap. He lit up “Oh thanks, man” and started puffing. It was a sight that should have been photographed or filmed but without a working camera on hand I had to pass. I finished my drink and requested three beers. “For whom, man” came from smokey lips “Me” simply replied.I began walking out through the floor with colors damn near blinding me as I make my way to a table that appeared to be melting as well. I pull out a chair and put down two of the three beers and begin to drink the one remaining. “It's gonna be a long night” I remarked which later proved to be wrong
June 23rd,1968 1:37 PM- Pain greats my head before I open my eyes. I grown and begin to sit up. After in a position where my face is off the floor I begin to feel cold and wet on the left side of my face. I wipe the side and open my eyes greeted by at least fifteen beer empty bottles, five whiskeys, two scotches and three vodkas. I sit up only to be put back down into my own vomit by the sheer pain that screamed in my head. Ok, obviously getting up is not an option. At least for now. The last thing I remember was the phrase “It’s gonna be a long night” and then darkness. F*cking ironic as now last night after those words were two seconds of darkness. I finally muster up enough strength (which later proved to be stupidity) to sit up. I open my eyes and there I was, hungover (again) and with a vomit covered shirt and chin (again). These pains were not new but still not welcome. I pawed around my shirt and pants until I find my breast pocket. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I put the cig between my lips and stroked the lighter with index finger and brought it to the end of the smoke. I inhale, release the button on the lighter, take the smoke with my fingers and exhale with a deep sigh. “It's gonna be one of those days, huh?...f*cking beautiful”.I began to feel around the wet and gross ground and found my glasses. A quick rub with my shirt and I put them to my ears. I can now see all of the folks were either gone or sleeping with a hangover itching them to wake. I stand up with a stretch and sigh as my head catches up with me. I stubble to the bar and walk behind it. I find the handsome son who apparently gave me all of those drinks last night curled up on the floor with a pile of burnt out joints spread around him. I marvel at the sight as again I wish I had a camera. I take a bottle of vodka and kahlua and mix them both in both of my flasks. I leave two dollars on the counter and leave the club with a trail of smoke. I open the doors and the sun stabs my eyes so much so that I nearly recoiled involuntarily back into the club. I stubble out shielding my eyes and walk to the convenience store right across from the club. I guess convenience store wasn't just a clever name. I walk over and into the store, confused and disgusted stares attack me before I make one step into the damn place. The owner knew me and only looked up from his newspaper, his eyes met mine. He only looked for a few seconds and then returned to his paper with a familiar disapproving and sympathetic sigh. You see when we met we both knew or thought it would only be a one night stand, but that turned out to be a friendship that we both rarely hang on too. An odd relationship that he tried not to make visible with these visits after parties and drunken nights. As I walk to the back of the store faces look in horror. I've been the town drunk hippie for far too long to be greeted by these faces. I grab a box of ibuprofen and walk to the front grabbing a snickers a mountain dew and pack of gum as I walk. I put the items on the counter and look up at the mirror with a camera behind it. Another sight worthy of film, as a hungovered face with a vomit covered shirt and chin stared back at me. “5.96” interrupted my gaze as I stare into friendly eyes behind the counter. I paw around in my pocket for change and I hand him a five and one bill. I walk out with my four pennies of change dancing in my hand as I hear “Hey Summer”. I turn around and see him walking outside in front of me. The people inside still look in awe as conversation starts. “Ever think about working here?” he said, I paused taking the cigarette from my mouth surprised that it was there this whole time and respond “here, like a job ?” I asked “Yeah, what’d ya think?”. I cracked open the dew and opened the ibuprofen. “Sure” I said after a moment, he looked up at me with a surprised smile. I fought the urge to smile but was defeated and broke into a half grin. “When do I start?” I asked as I was genuinely excited that I was offered a job. My usual income was a combination of taking out trash for random restaurants and selling weed and LSD. Both are a pain in the ass because A.) Not many restaurants want the help, which is understandable. Most of the restaurants I help is the ones that i've been going to for around a decade. B.) I usually smoke the weed before I can sell it. Although that's not new among this town, hell most of my “clients” roll and smoke it before they pay. Anyway “About a week or so...how ‘bout monday?” he responded after a couple seconds “Sure” I said “Why not?”, I held out my hand and he took it in an instant. I can tell he was holding back on showing his full excitement. While his reaction was surprising I can assume that it was due to not really talking to anyone in that shithole of a store. We chatted for a bit and I left popping a couple ibuprofen with due and then pouring the rest of my dew in my flask and mixed it with the rest of its contents as I always do.June 23rd 1968 3:45 PM- After a talk that was supposed to be seconds turned into two hours I began to walk home. As I approach the door I take another swing from my flask which now was almost empty this left a sour taste in my mouth. I open the door and open the fridge which illuminated the room. I take a beer and crack it open and sip it as I walk towards the tv and flick it on. It was the jetsons, which made me smile. I loved watching it after long parties, it had a sort of soothing factor when viewed with alcohol. I stare blankly at the screen for a period of time until I reached for my flask. The weight alone reminded me of the misfortune that i got at the front steps of my apartment. I got up to the “mini bar” as I like to call it and proceeded to pour myself a mixture of liquor and soda. This was the only thing my livers could process for some odd reason that I never went out to find. I mix kahlua and vodka with mountain dew. A relatively new drink only came up about three years ago and three years ago I was saved. The perfect blend of caffeine, sweetness, taste, and aftermath in my stomach and liver showed how much i've consumed over the years. And that's only about the dew, mixed with liquor it becomes a wonderful and addictive concoction that turns the straight edge jackass into a raving alcoholic within days. I take a sip from the glass then poured the rest into my flask. As I walk to the couch my phone rang and echoed through the apartment. It scared me half to death and made me trip on a book that went unnoticed in my fright. I tripped and THUD SPLAT were the last sounds that I could make up before darkness fogged my memo[/size]ry.[/color][/color]
Topic: This Will Be A Movie (The Story So Far) (Read 939 times)