Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #335

Douglas Fairbanks: “Well, here we go again.”

Mary Pickford: “Now, Dougie, let’s not be grumpy. You know we have to deal with the press, it’s just what we do as Hollywood Royalty.”

Douglas: “But why do we have to let them into our house? It’s annoying.”

Mary: “Because the common people want to see how the rich and famous live. It’s a social service, really, letting them dream about having a grand life such as ours. It helps them forget that their lives are meaningless, and it prompts them to buy tickets to our movies so they can dream some more. That’s just how America works.”

Douglas: “It’s still annoying. I really wasn’t planning on wearing pants today. What about my own dreams?”

Mary: “The people don’t care what you might really be like. They only care about the image you have created. Image is everything, darling.”

Douglas: “They why are you doing that odd thing with your foot?”

Mary: “I’m trying to be quirky and fun-loving.”

Douglas: “It looks like you’re drunk and forgot how to stand properly.”

Mary: “I am drunk. You’re not the only one who planned to have uncovered loins today, until the damn doorbell rang.”

Douglas: “Then stop answering the door. We have servants who can deal with that.”

Mary: “You’re still missing the point, my beloved. When the publicity machine rolls your way, you’ve got to put on a happy face and embrace it. Otherwise, we actors become box office poison and we have to do something wretchedly dreadful like run for governor of California or appear in informercials about designer breast implants. We can pretend to be something we’re not for an hour or so. Speaking of which, have you put away all your… toys? That one reporter over there is vibrating with an intensity that means he will be asking for a tour of the second floor.”

Douglas: “Oh. Well, it’s entirely possible that there’s a bong sitting on the balcony off our bedroom.”

Mary: “I’m so disappointed in you, my pet.”

Douglas: “Why is that? Are you mad because I didn’t clean up after myself once again?”

Mary: “Of course not, my love. I’m upset that you didn’t bother to invite me to the balcony before the schtick hit the fan. You know Momma loves the herb garden, and it’s not fair that you withheld the latest harvest.”

Douglas: “You’re right, I’ve been a Humphrey Bogart and I’m sorry. Perhaps I can make it up to you later with some slap and tickle? We can play that game where you are willing to do anything to win an Academy Award.”

Mary: “That does have a certain appeal, but perhaps we should switch it up this time. I think you should be the one who accepts the Oscar, so to speak.”

Douglas: “Done. I’ve had enough Herb Alpert that I’m easy like Sunday morning.”

Mary: “Splendid. Okay, shush now, the reporters are ready with their questions. Remember, image is everything.”

Hedda Clodhopper, lead correspondent for The Hollywood Blather: “Mary, love the quirky foot action. What else have you been up to today?”

Mary: “We’ve just arrived home from church. It was a lovely sermon, all about truth and honesty and living a clean life.”

Louella Parsnip, lead correspondent for Fox Spews: “And how about you, Douglas? Did you revel in the revelations of a higher power?”

Douglas: “I certainly did. As I sat in the balcony, I had wonderous visions and I loved everybody and everything.”

Mary: “Okay, then. It’s been lovely chatting with all of you, but I’m afraid we’ve got to run. We’re late for an awards ceremony.”

Hedda: “Oh? I wasn’t aware of any ceremonies this evening.”

Mary: “It’s a private affair. Invitation only. We’ll let you know how it turns out on our blog.”

Louella: “I hope both of you win!”

Mary: “I think we just did.”

Douglas: “Praise be!”

 

Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 12/07/15 and “Bonnywood Manor” on 08/05/16. Considerably revised for this post, taking things in an entirely different direction.

 

Later, Mary: “Whew! I’m glad that’s over. Run get that bong and let’s explore the whiter shade of pale.”

Douglas: “Ohhh… I think I finally understand that song now.”

Mary: “No, you don’t. And neither does the writer. Still, clean yourself up and meet me in ten.”

The Bong: “Why does nobody ever bother to clean me?”

Hedda, outside the gates of Pickfair, turning to Louella: “I didn’t buy any of that. Did you?”

Louella: “I’ve never bought anything in this town. Except life insurance.”

 

15 replies »

  1. Hedda Clodhopper was good; Fox Spews? PRICELESS. I scared Huny again by bwahahahahaing insanely. I think she’s gone to seek help…

    Actually, after staring at that photo a bit longer, are you SURE those aren’t cleverly placed cardboard cut-outs of Boll and Weevil? The curtain behind Ms. Mary has something odd, long and black sticking out of it at about knee level and that curtain just ain’t right. Maybe the fumes from the Bong o’ Plenty got it in a bunch…(oh my gawd).. okay then. Over and out.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I had a whole section about those atrocious curtains, but it got too weird (even for me) and I cut it out. But now that you mention the cardboard-cutout aspect (which I can totally see, now), this factoid would actually work well with the excised bit. There just might be a version 4.0 of this mess…

      Like

  2. Hedda Clodhopper and Fox Spews? Hahaha. Magnificent, Brian. 😀

    Mary: I smoked too pot and can’t stand on my leg. It’s got a permanent cramp.
    Dougie: Go lie down my little cabbage. Some day Donald Lump will be a thing of the past and we won’t need to escape so much.
    Mary: Escape from what? Wealth and fame?
    Dougie: You escaped from Canada.
    Mary: But it was boring. And besides, I don’t need free heath care. Now be a good little pet and pass the herb.
    Dougie: Okay. But some day you might regret it.
    Mary: I can’t seem to bend my leg …

    Liked by 1 person

    • Meanwhile in the Offal Office, Donald Lump: “What’s this I hear about pot-smoking criminals sneaking across the Canadian border?”

      Mike Pence, Vice-in-Resident: “You should build another wall, just like the glorious wall you built on the Mexican border, shining in the desert sun. Jesus is proud of you.”

      Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Pressed Secretary: “Your fanatical base will love the idea. Just like I love you. Please let me have your baby.”

      Melancholy Trump, First Wife: “Don’t build the wall just yet. I need to find an offensive jacket to wear to the opening ceremonies.”

      Bong on the Balcony: “I was created to help people deal with the preceding four twits.”

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Okay, sure, I could comment on this post like a good and honorable reader and I was fully prepared to do so, but then I read the section past your note and, *gasp* I LOVE that song! Quick, right click, search google, click on video, and… what the hell? This is the kookiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. And now I must ask — have you ever done a video take on this one? It needs your commentary. It truly does.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I haven’t even watched the video yet, but I am already firmly giddy with anticipation. I completely trust your judgment, and I promise to move mountains to make this my next music video review. Okay, maybe not mountains, but I will do my best to remain focused for at least five minutes, a duration limit that is becoming increasingly harder for me to meet as my mind decays by the second. Stay tuned!

      Liked by 1 person

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