Movieland

Chapter 19

A dose of ibuprofen did little to soothe the pain in my wrist. Watching Tango and Cash with Dad helped slightly. They finished blowing up the compound and the credits rolled. I wondered how well Kurt Russell and Sly Stallone got on off screen. Their chemistry in the movie was what made it perfect. Tenacious D even had a lyric about them as a dynamic duo. Could JP and I be our own buddy tandem? JP and Max: In Search of Frankie.

If I found him, who knew how deep the movie-verse ran. Movieland 2: More Movies could be a thing. The desperate fake movie star in me wouldn't mind.

"Can you check the weather?"

Dad flipped over to Action 4 news. Ashton Van Buren looked rotten, like an ashy orange. "And now over to Frances McCaffery for the weather."

Frances McCaffery looked like if Kathy Bates went as James Caan for Halloween. "Thanks, Ashton. Watch out Lindley, but a storm is coming."

The screen behind her showed a large swath of green containing smaller pockets of orange and small cells of red. It moved in a simulated loop from west of Lindley to on top of it. "Great news, Lindley, a cold front is coming in to help us cool down. However, the bad news is it's clashing with a warm front, and in that epic battle we get severe thunderstorms. We're looking at rain throughout Saturday, with severe lightning. We are also on flood watch, as we're predicting 3-4 inches of water. Things will clear up on Monday with sunshine and another heat wave. For now, you're going to want to stay dry out there. Ashton."

Dad flipped over to the movie after Tango and Cash: Demolition Man. A Stallone doubleheader was an instant rewatchable.

Dad sawed logs before Snipes and Stallone were frozen. I tiptoed into his office to get another look at the "excellent" screenplay.

I opened and closed my branded hand. The pain had worn off but the syringe mark remained. It had dulled into a dark pink but was still clearly visible. The metal coils had imprinted on my skin.

"THE LAND OF MOVIES"

BY

ART MAGEE

698 AxelFoley Lane

Lindley, MI 49438

555-765-4565

artmageewrites@email.com

FADE IN:

EXT. MOPR TESTING FACILITY -- NIGHT

A BABY WAILS (O.S.) as rows of lights illuminate a modern laboratory. The CRIES are urgent and painful. The BABY is not hungry or tired or teething. Something is very much the matter. As the CRIES continue, the camera slowly ZOOMS OUT from the facility to STEADY on a rickety metal sign that looks to have only recently been installed: MOPR INDUSTRIES. The sign rocks in the breeze and then blows back and forth as a station wagon SCREAMS past it.

Supered below: 2000.

The fingers on my cast hand resembled thick sausages and were purple going on blue. My heart was doing the disembodied thing again. It thudded up my wrist and through my swollen fingers. I had the chills but felt like I was burning up. The heartbeat was my own but also from somewhere else, a feed being piped into an earpiece that broadcast my pain. I held two fingers against my throat. My pulse beat, delayed a second, and then echoed in my ears.