idiotprufs

the blog that made the pope laugh so hard he peed himself.

Archive for the tag “writing”

I’ve Been so Busy…and Invertebrate

She turned me into a banana slug...I got better.

She turned me into a banana slug…I got better.

You may have noticed my recent absence from the blogging world.

You probably didn’t notice it right away. It just suddenly dawned on you one day that a persistent irritant had disappeared. Like when you suddenly realized the itching had stopped because that annoying rash on your testicles had finally gone away.

But you’re not rid of me yet. You can get all the restraining orders and pepper-spray you want, but I’m not going anywhere.

Take that, Beth.

Note: the previous line was for comedic effect only. I am not following or harassing a woman named Beth in any manner that could be construed as a violation of any court order.

You see, I’m like herpes: you will never truly be rid of me. I’ll always be there lurking, just waiting to show up and ruin your weekend. (It’s been a rough few months.)

Anyway, there have been several reasons for my dearth of activity:

Miming

I’ve taken up the silent art in an elaborate scheme to infiltrate the world of mime and sabotage it from the inside.

I planned to work tirelessly to become the world’s most prolific and prominent mime.

Upon reaching the pinnacle of miming, I would embark on a downward spiral of debauchery and scandal that would permanently stain the miming world.

Unfortunately I was unable to bring my plan to fruition; it seems miming is way harder than it looks. Also, I’ve discovered I’m allergic to white face-paint, berets, and being punched in the groin by small children. (They have little fists of steel.)

I do however plan to go forward with the downward spiral of debauchery and scandal.

Juggling Chainsaws

My attempt at learning to juggle chainsaws was going along swimmingly…until suddenly it wasn’t.

Learning To Write With My Left Hand

Upon falling victim to an unforeseeable and unpreventable accident, I have lost all use of my right hand.

Well…that’s not strictly true; it makes a interesting paperweight.

Would it be so difficult to print the words, NOT TO BE USED FOR JUGGLING OR ANYTHING COOL, somewhere on a chainsaw?

Note: perhaps I should have learned how to mime chainsaw juggling.

chainsaw hand

Where’s the warning, Husqvarna?

I Spent Several Weeks As A Banana Slug

If you’ve read this blog in the past, you will know that my aunts are a great big gaggle of witches.

You will also know that I have on occasion angered them. Maybe it was something I said. Maybe it was something I did. Perhaps it was something I wrote in this blog about their chunky thighs, potato-faced children, or their general tendency to be evil hags.

But usually it’s my mere existence that sets them off.

Anyway, they turned me into a banana slug.

It’s ridiculously hard to use a keyboard when you’re a banana slug. You get brilliant ideas, but you just can’t execute them.

On the upside, banana slugs have voracious sex lives. There is nothing in this world sexier than a banana slug…to another banana slug.

Take that, Beth. You’re no banana slug.

banana slug

Sexy!

I’ve Had No Good Ideas

I’m just kidding; I’ve never had any good ideas.

I promise I will post again soon, and it will be my usual level of crap.

hand

It’s also useful for scaring small children after they’ve punched you in the groin.

Advertisements

Even More Taglines For Your Approval

taglineIllegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest, is the current tagline for this blog.

However, it is now illegal in all 50 states, the United States Virgin Islands, American Samoa, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, and Frowned upon in Puerto Rico.

So it’s time for a change.

Not a change in the blog, but in the tagline; the statement above is just too wordy to be a tagline.

Note: this blog is still legal and well received in the District of Columbia, various militia run compounds that have declared independence from the United States, and the Vatican.

So it’s time to choose a new tagline.

idiotprufs: the blog that once made Pope Francis laugh so hard he peed himself.

idiotprufs: the blog that is widely used as currency in Bolivian prisons.

idiotprufs: the blog that took the Tide pod challenge and thought it was delicious.

idiotprufs: that blog that was shattered when The Amish Mafia was taken off the air.

idiotprufs: the blog that just can’t get the theme song from The Poseidon Adventure out of its head.

idiotprufs: the blog that was heartbroken when it discovered Mary Poppins isn’t a true story.

idiotprufs: the blog with cat-like reflexes and is as equally adept at using a litter box.

idiotprufs: the blog that has in no way been influenced by the Russians.

idiotprufs: the blog that used to call itself Miranda.

idiotrufs: the best way to spend the day if Jumbles are too complicated for you.

idiotprufs: the blog the solved two sides of the Rubik’s Cube then just gave up.

idiotprufs: the blog that was thrown out of a party after it made a rude comment about another blog’s toupee.

idiotprufs: the blog that is convinced that Rudy was offsides.

idiotprufs: the blog that lives in a glass house, but throws stones anyway.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s been pepper-sprayed far more times than is reasonable.

idiotprufs: the blog that leaves a stain that you just can’t get out.

idiotprufs: the blog that once met the Dali Lama and thought he was kind of full of himself.

idiotprufs: the blog that hates it when it burns it tongue on hot coffee and then can’t taste anything the rest of day.

idiotprufs: the blog that is frequently printed out just to be used to line bird cages.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s frequently crapped on by birds.

idiotprufs: the blog that just found out the word is spelled: idiotproofs.

idiotprufs: what the hell else are gonna do with your time?

One of these lucky taglines will become the new tagline for this blog.

Good luck to all of them.

Rubik's Cube

The blog that couldn’t get this far.

 

Help Me Finish Something!

I need help.If you’re anything like me (and if you are, you have my deepest sympathies) the draft section of your blog’s dashboard is littered with unfinished posts.

After tirelessly combing through dozens of drafts (for at least 10 or 15 minutes) I came up with this short list of possible drafts to finish and post.

I’m a Peon: At the time there seemed no need to finish this; it just seemed too self-evident.

Mad Scientists Living Under Oprah’s House: This was to be a post about how Oprah is genetically engineering a race of super smart and evil monkeys to help her take over the world. Again, just too self-evident.

I’m a Moron #Yolo: I had seen a tweet that read: Just took a dump on my bosses car. #Yolo. I imagined a post containing a series of subsequent tweets from this person, ending with the tweet: Just got to know my new cellmate Brutus and he’s roughed handed. #Yolo.

A Little Wrong or Horribly Wrong: This post stemmed from my overhearing a patron in a dining establishment complain that their order was horribly wrong because they received ice tea rather than lemonade. My supposition was that receiving ice tea rather than lemonade is only a little wrong. Had they received a glass of antifreeze or hemlock or alpaca pee, then their order would have been horribly wrong.

A Day in the ACME Complaint Department: I thought it would be funny to do a one-sided phone call (Bob Newhart style) of a person in the ACME complaint department taking a call from an angry Wile E. Coyote, because one of their products had again detonated in his face and slammed him into the side of a mountain.

road runner

This is about to go horribly wrong.

Reasons to Throw Rocks at Things: There has to be several.

Why do Hillbillies Have Weird Faces: This popped up on my search term page. Some poor individual came to this blog looking for an answer to that question; I fear I’ve let them down.

Toad Lickers Unite: It is high time we illuminate the plight of the toad licker in this nation.

homer simpson

Homer is just one of the many downtrodden toad lickers.

A Temper Tantrum and a Mostly Jet Black Truck: This is a true story about a giant blowhard of a man and how he parked his jet black truck in the wrong place.

Let Me Explain: Another true story about the time I witnessed a co-worker try to explain to a supervisor why he had called-off on Friday. His story began with “I got arrested” and then got increasingly worse.

Let me know which of these posts should be finished and published. (Or more than one–there is a plethora.)

I live to do your bidding.

 

The Experiment

image source: wpclipart.com

This is short screenplay written by Ian Wallace, based on Frankenstein’s Omelet.

 

Opening Credits: Dream Sequence.

Characters: Main Character. Male. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Dressed in old-fashioned, but not period clothing.

Editing: The opening sequence will consist of a dream sequence that foreshadows the goings on in the body of the film. It would be made up of several different shots  (as described below) spliced together in an abstracted narrative format. The order in which they are presented do not necessarily dictate their sequence.

  1. The main character running through the woods as if being chased. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, and periodically looks back over his shoulder.
  2. Shot of the man’s feet running through the forest debris.
  3. Mob: Rather than bringing more cast members into the film, we could abstract farm implements and torches progressing through the woods. This would maintain the universal monster feel of this opening.
  4. Lightning Streaking across the sky.
  5. Design a makeshift lab. This doesn’t have to be anything overly elaborate, but should at least have the quintessential bubbling beakers. Easy as food coloring and dry ice. There would need to be a workbench, and dissection tools.
  6. Man presses his back against a wooden door, with the classic mob push going on behind it. He looks panicked and winded.
  7. On the workbench is a tray about the size of a dinner plate, or just a dinner plate with a cloth over it. Upon closer inspection, it appears to rising and falling as if breathing. Or more like a pulse depending on the aesthetic.
  8. Slow dolly up to the kitchen refrigerator. Three shots from medium angle light for night. Use green tape around the edge of the door so the glow can be composited in and motion tracked.
  9. As he watches the covered item on the workbench, a shot of blood soaking through the cloth. Lightning flash.
  10. These scenes will be inter-cut with the man sleeping fitfully, as if having a nightmare.  Not over the top, but enough to get the point across. Camera angle and shot variety will create the tension leading up to the point where the man wakes up and it’s morning.

Scene two: Morning

Setting:

A bedroom with a big enough bed for two. He is alone, but the blankets on both sides are disheveled, implying that someone has been there. It’s morning and the room is relatively bright.

Action:

The man jerks awake from the nightmare he was having. He’s disoriented at first, but recovers and rubs his face.

Cut to the man walking into a brightly lit kitchen. He’s awake, but still a bit tired. A woman is busy at the stove. She’s wearing morning clothes and by her mannerisms, you can tell she’s been awake for awhile. At the middle of the space is a breakfast table setting. Burnt toast, coffee, and a large plate with a cloth over it.

He strolls over to the woman:

Man: “Good Morning” he says, still groggy: kisses her on the cheek.

Woman: “It’s about time you got up, sleepy head,” she says lightly.

Man: “Yeah. I was having the weirdest…” stops abruptly as he catches sight of the refrigerator from the dream. Just a normal fridge now. “…dream.” He finishes.

Woman: “You Okay?”

Man: Shakes his head as if to clear the image. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired.”

Woman: “Awww… I’m sorry. But I have just what you need to feel better: some good old fashioned home cooking.”

Man: Sits down in front of the plate while rubbing his eyes, so that he hasn’t caught sight of the plate covered by the cloth. “Thanks babe,” he mumbles, “what are we having?”

Woman: “Well, it’s sitting right in front of you, silly. Take a look.”

Man: He opens his eyes, looks down and freezes. It looks just like the plate with the soaking blood from the dream. (cut to shot of cloth soaking through) He looks over his shoulder, obviously slightly rattled, then back at his plate.

Woman: “Well go on before it gets cold,” she says in a motherly way, standing by the table.

Man: Gingerly he pinches the cloth and pulls it away. A plume of steam rises up and he winces as if the smell was unpleasant. Before him sits the omelet in all its glory. A pool of liquid surrounds it on the plate. Strange marks, textures and folds in pale yellow and off white. What may be a mushroom slides down it. The man stares down at it. “It looks delicious (he feigns honesty) what is it?”

Woman: “What do you mean what is it?” (sounding slightly annoyed) “It’s a home style omelet.”

Man: (Hiding his bewilderment) “Well, of course it’s an omelet. It just doesn’t seem to be a conventional omelet, that’s all.”

Woman: “Well that’s the stoves fault isn’t it? It’s not level.” (sounding more frustrated)

Man: “Not level?” he replies. “Well yeah, that’ll do it.” (trying to sound confident) Cut to the man investigating the omelet. He lifts a fold of the body and more cloudy fluid trickles out. Under the fold is an 0ff-blue, bruise like patch. Maybe the look of coagulated blood underneath a membrane.

Woman: (Now looming behind the seated man) “Well? Are you going to try it, or just look at it all day?” (covering up aggravation with forced sweetness.)

Man: Looks up at her, makes a smile and laughs nervously. He turns back towards the plate. He cuts a portion from the side with his fork and holds it up, speared. More strange fluid leaks away from the limp morsel. The man grimaces, closes his eyes and shoves it in. At first it’s fine. A look of momentary relief crosses his face. He chews it like a rubber band. Then it hits him.

Scene three: Gastrological disaster.

This scene is a hallucinatory nightmare as the man struggles with the morsel.

  1. Footage of hydrogen peroxide being poured on red meat.
  2. Beads of sweat on his forehead.
  3. Eggs and omelet makings being smashed and mutilated.
  4. Close-up of man chewing. He looks up, red in the face, toward the woman with a facial expression of “why would you do this to me?” Some of the milky liquid runs out of the corner of his mouth.
  5. The omelet on the plate is starting to pump a foul black liquid that begins to fill the bottom of the plate.
  6. Unused shots of the mob scene. (pitch forks and torches.)
  7. Close-up of the man sweating and looking panicked.
  8. Woman dressed like lady Frankenstein or in some other nightmarish costume (think of the Ms. Shields/mother scene from A Christmas Story, where the two are dressed as a jester and a witch mocking Ralphie with, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” ) laughing maniacally

Man: He finally manages to swallow it. (close-up on his throat swallowing.)

  1. Egg falling on glass, seen from underneath, and bleeding black and green. (inject egg with food coloring and drop it from high enough that it spatters.)
  2. Fluid mixing and congealing. (jello and vegetable oil.)
  3. Stock footage of church burning or volcano erupting.
  4. Woman dressed as a devil with dramatic lighting. Perhaps several people dancing around the table dressed similarly.

The man finally gets it down. Tries to keep from vomiting. Horrible stomach noises can be heard. He looks sick. Back to reality.

Woman: “Well, what do you think?”

Man: (Still looking a little ill) “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before. Ever.”

Woman: “Great!” she says happily, totally oblivious. She turns to go about her day. “Eat up while I get dressed.”

Man: Looks around desperately for a way to dispose of the contents of the plate.  Looks down. The woman’s dog is staring up with hopeful, hungry eyes. The man pauses, looks over his shoulder, and puts the plate on the floor. The dog gobbles the omelet down, licking up the fluid drippings from the omelet, and walks off into the other room. With trembling hands, the man grips his coffee cup and drinks.

Woman: The bathroom door opens and the woman walks out dressed. She pauses. From the other room the man hears the woman scream.

Man: Looks up with wide open, panicked eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

Woman: “The (dog’s name) has vomited everywhere. It’s on my carpet. My freaking couch. It’s everywhere–I just stepped in it.”

Man: Still frozen until he hears the dog growling from underneath the table. The dog bites his leg. The shot is from above the table as you see the man gasping from the bite.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: