Celeste, left: “I’m really not impressed with how this evening has been going so far.”
Bette, middle: “I hear ya, sister. We haven’t had a fresh cocktail for at least an hour.”
Hugh, right: “Do either of you even realize that we are not on the Upper West Side and therefore we are no longer insulated from the common people? The folks from PETA are going to egg this car any second and if that happens then nobody will be getting any cocktails.”
Celeste: “Why on earth would they do that?”
Bette: “PETA? Wasn’t that the name of my first husband? Or maybe it was Oscar. Making ten movies a year can mess with your head and wear you out, unlike those actresses in the future who can make one movie every decade and still remain at the top of the charts.”
Hugh: “Well, the PETA people aren’t really fond of other people who wear the carcasses of dead animals as fashion accessories.”
Celeste: “That’s just ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with abusing wildlife if it can score you a glossy spread in Vanity Fair. And according to my therapist, I shouldn’t harbor any guilt about taking advantage of the less fortunate as long as it makes me feel pretty.”
Bette: “So that’s why your hairdo looks like roadkill? Some kind of tribute to the animal kingdom?”
Celeste: “I really don’t like your tone.”
Bette: “I really don’t like your hair.”
Hugh: “Ladies, please. We are not going to accomplish anything by turning on one another. If we are going to survive this night, you might have to ditch your Bambi-killing couture.”
Celeste: “I’ll do nothing of the sort. The American Indians wore fur. Why should they get away with it and we can’t?”
Bette: “I sense the direction the writer is going with this piece, so I choose to be noncommittal at this point and hope I still get a Vanity Fair spread.”
Hugh: “There is a huge difference between survival and fashion. Things change, and we should be on the right side of that change.”
Celeste: “You sound like you’ve been reading too many books.”
Bette: “You also sound like you are trying to get your own feature in Vanity Fair. I’m not really happy about that, because there are only so many slots in a monthly magazine. Still, I’m remaining noncommittal until I see where the wind is blowing.”
Hugh: “I sound like someone who is trying to make a point, despite the obvious fact that I am competing against both of your egos and this huge steering wheel which is threatening to steal the scene.”
Celeste: “Wait, an understudy is getting uppity? That sounds like a movie I was in once.”
Bette: “That’s the movie you’re in now, you twit. Although nobody reading this is going to get the subtle reference unless they are ancient and decrepit like we are or they are one of the two young people left on the planet who bothers to watch movies that are black and white.”
Hugh: “I think we are seriously getting away from my underlying message of how we should treat animals with more human decency.”
Celeste: “I think we got away from that a long time ago. At least I did. Then again, I have no soul, and I freely admit it.”
Bette: “Human decency? It’s the humans that are the problem.”
Hugh: “Well, it’s never too late to hope that we can get back to where we once belonged.”
Steering Wheel, quietly whispering into the bug planted under the dashboard: “Unit 54 to home base. Mission accomplished. Sort of. We have one conversion, one possible conversion, and a Republican. We are now arriving at the 21 Club. Please advise of new directive once subjects have imbibed and returned to vehicle. Peace out.”
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
I remember other encounters here with steering wheels. I think the steering wheel usually wins. Just saying.
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I do seem intent on sharing stories where steering wheels prove dominant and wise. Perhaps I should mention this to my therapist… 😉
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Yes…very roadkill style she’s got going there. Pleased to see it’s so fashionable as it’s my go to style .
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My go-to style is “keep it short enough that you really can’t do anything with it anyway”… 😉
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A wonderful, chuckle filled, journey from start to finish, thanks Brian 🙂
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And thank you for joining me on the journey once again. I might have to start awarding you frequent-flyer miles… 😉
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Your post is direct from living in La La Land.
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Having just seen the movie, I would love to live there. Well, except for that one part. But still… 😉
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Love it! My own personal post 💜
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Aww. I’m glad you see it that way! 🙂
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Can you imagine the portfolio the aliens are pulling together? Frightening. Ha ha. I never did see the appeal of wearing carcasses.
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I have wondered before if the reason the aliens haven’t invaded us yet is because they don’t really see the point in bothering to do so… 😉
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Ha ha ha. They don’t want to deal with the hassle. Smart aliens.
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“…unless they are ancient and decrepit like we are or they are one of the two young people left on the planet who bothers to watch movies that are black and white.”
That was blog philosophy.Get back home, Loretta. I caught that one too. I often wonder if those are subconscious. Anyway, I was just reading about the willing suspension of disbelief. I know, get out more. But the world of black & white films calls that out. How willing we were to be entertained that we watched a world that was indeed totally alien from our own, talking steering wheel and all, and we bought into it. A good story or song is one you step into and out of and don’t miss reality at all. Like this.
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I would imagine that some subconscious song references get through, but for the most part they are intentional, as with Sweet Loretta Martin. I realize it’s a slight cop-out, with a tinge of minimal plagiarism, when I do this, but I like the duality of the reference on the nostalgia level and the story level, thus making a third level. Anyway, to your main point, a good story or song allows for “suspension of belief”, thus enriching the experience. Even if that suspension is tested somewhat, as with a certain recent movie featuring a character who loves jazz, even though much of the music in the movie isn’t really jazz. Still, the rest of the elements in the movie were strong enough that we slid sideways for two hours anyway…
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I haven’t seen that one, but I saw a kick ass ballet disguised as An American in Paris. Even with that old truism about giving up some singer to get a good dancer, they knocked it out of the park.
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And that sounds like a line from a song thing? I am perhaps the most guilty of all.
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