Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #520

Cary: “Why are you walking in the door like that?

Jean: “Let’s just say there was an incident and things didn’t work out well for me.”

Cary: “But you look like you’re in pain? What happened?”

Jean: “Well, apparently I made the mistake of trying to wear high heels in this scene. The director whisked me aside and told me in no uncertain terms that I’m contractually not allowed to be taller than you. So I’m making sure that I’m not.”

Cary: “That’s absurd! Wait, who is the director? We make so many movies a year during this Golden Age of Hollywood that it’s hard to keep track, unlike future stars who will make one movie twice a decade. And I might owe the idiot some money, so I need to be prepared for that.”

Jean: “Oh, he’s a new one, based on the fact that he’s sober, so you probably don’t owe him anything. At least I think he’s a him. There seemed to be a lot of unnecessary chiffon and flamboyance. Not that it matters, other than it would be nice to know where I should shop when it comes to his or her gift at the wrap party.”

Cary: “I see. Well, do what you must, but I should point out that you are currently conversing with my Internet-searched crotch and such an act may not make it past those sex-deprived movie censors who will one day run for Congress.”

Jean: “I already thought of that. We’ll just introduce a subplot about a spy-tracking mechanism in your left pocket. If I don’t adequately interpret the signal from your crotch, nations will perish and popcorn prices will rise at the concession stand. It’s a matter of patriotism and balanced budgets.”

Cary: “Should you really be changing the script just to fit your own agenda?”

Jean: “Why not? The writer of this pointless story is clearly doing so.”


Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 05/04/17. No changes made, as we’re in the final stretch of NaNoWriMo, wherein I haven’t yet hit the final mark, babbling endlessly whilst scrambling to create worthless scenes that will most likely be excised from the final story. This is what happens when I pursue questionable writing-challenge goals that essentially mean nothing in the end. It’s like I’m still working for Verizon…


11 replies »

  1. I remember this one, but see how I’m leaving a comment anyway? It’s my good deed for today and it’s still morning!
    As much as I love Cary Grant, I can safely say I’ve never internet-searched his crotch. That’s not to say it hasn’t showed up while searching Robert Downey, Jr., of course. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, wait. I ran across an intriguingly-explicit photo of Downey the Younger just the other day and I remember thinking, hmm, somebody I know would greatly relish the opportunity to study said artistry, but for the life of me I couldn’t make a concrete connection, and I let the link fade away. Now I realize the error of my inattention to detail, and I have updated my tracking spreadsheets accordingly…

      Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, the drama is real. I started out NaNoWriMo quite splendidly, full of confidence, and the first days were a deluge of ideas and words. But I have this bad habit of getting distracted by all the other things in life, and for the past week or so I haven’t even bothered to start working on my quota until an hour or so before the midnight deadline, resulting in mere dribbles of output. Ergo, the scrambling panic…

      Liked by 1 person

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