The Belligerent Years
An Early Dinner at the Home of James Brolin (costarring his son, Josh)
Posted by thebelligerentyears
May 30, 2008 at 6:35 pm
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JOSH: “Hey dad, how’s it going?”

JAMES: “Fine son.  Come on in and take a load off your feet.  You look tired.”

JOSH:  “Really?  That’s funny, I feel great.  Actually, I feel better than great.  Never better.”

JAMES:  “It’s nothing too serious, I’m sure.  Just a little haggard around the eyes, and your shoulders slump a little.

JOSH:  “Slump?”

JAMES: “Yeah, ‘slump’.  Don’t sweat it, son.  We all get tired.  It happens.  You’re not in your twenties anymore.”

JOSH:  “Huh?  I guess I should take some vitamins or something.  I was thinking of taking up jogging this year, but it’s so hard to find the time, when I’m on set all day.  I bet you would enjoy jogging.  You seem to have a little more free time these days.”

JAMES:  “I got that DVD your publicist sent over.  I haven’t watched it, yet.  What was it called, ‘The Men From the Old Country’?

JOSH:  “It’s called ‘No Country for Old Men’.  It’s really meant to see seen on the big screen.  I wished you could have seen it, when it was in theaters.  I’m really proud of it.”

JAMES:  “I wished I could have, but I was filming a watch commercial, over in Dubai.  They don’t have art house theaters there.”

JOSH: “It was in general release, dad.”

JAMES: “Well, I for one would like another drink.  Would you like one?”

JOSH:  “No thanks; I’ve got an early call, tomorrow.”

JAMES (snickers):  “You know, back when I was making ‘Westworld’, Dick Benjamin and I used to close down the hotel bar every night, and still make a 5am call.  You guys today are soft, I tell you.

JOSH:  “That’s great dad.

JAMES:  “Oh sorry, I guess Mr. Fancy Pants is too big a star to hear a story about old Hollywood – the REAL Hollywood, from his old man.”

JOSH:  “Whatever.”

JAMES:  “Don’t ‘whatever’ me.  You take that tone with me, Goonies, and you’ll be shitting out your teeth in two days.  That’s a guarantee.”

JOSH (stands up):  “Okay, calm down.  I guess I’ll take a drink.”

JAMES:  “SIT DOWN.  I’ll get your mother to get you drink.”

JOSH (simpering): “Not my mother.”

JAMES:  “Bar?   BAR?!!!  Get Josh a Glenlivet and Fresca.”

JOSH:  “Fresca?”

JAMES:  “It’s the house drink, don’t be a pussy.  BAR!  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

BARBARA:  “Right here, dear.  Sorry, I was blogging.  They are putting in the on the computer for me next week.  I love blogging.  Do you or Diane blog, Josh?”

JAMES:  “What does this prattle have to do with you making me a drink?  You know, in Dubai, a man can beat his woman for less.”

BARBARA:  “You’ll have to excuse your father, Josh.  He has been like this ever since he got back.  Everything is how great it is in Dubai.”

JAMES (raises hand to sky):  “They treated me like a king there.  Did you know that ‘Pensacola: Wings of Gold” has its own channel, in Dubai.  They loved me, and in turn, I loved them.  Dubaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”

(JAMES COLLASPES)

JOSH:  “Oh my God.  What happened?  We should call 911, shouldn’t we?”

BARARA:  “No, don’t worry.  He will snap out of it in a few minutes.  Hold this Fresca under his nose.  He gets like this because he loved Dubai so much.”

JAMES (Muttering) :  “Dubai.  Dubai? Dubai?”

JOSH:  “Barbara?”

BARBARA:  “Yes, Josh?”

JOSH:  “Do you think I could have a Glenlivet and Fresca?”

BARBARA:  “Of course you can, sweetie.  Of course you can.  But first, could you help me turn him over?  I want to check him for ticks.”

END SCENE

The Belligerent Years would like to take this opportunity to salute the Brolin family and their contribution to film entertainment.  The preceding dialog is about a different Brolin family, one that thinks they are movie stars, but are really in a virtual reality game.

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Chuck Palahniuk Writes a Children’s Story (Idea by J. Strathman, who will not be paid)
Posted by thebelligerentyears
May 7, 2008 at 7:13 pm
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The playfield is hot. It is hot like a booger-filled toaster pastry. I straddle the teeter-totter and the wood feels super-heated between my legs. The warmth radiates through my hips and up to my tummy, like tendrils scooping me up and carrying me above the playfield. I kick out my legs and send myself soaring into the air.

Flash.

Hot pain shoots up my inner thigh, as I realize that an inch-long splinter has plunged into my pale, hairless flesh.

Laugh.

Susie Stringfellow is laughing at me. My face feels warm, warmer than where the splinter has entered my flesh. She always laughs at me-never with me. I love her. I lust her. She’ll show any guy her panties for a handful of brownie bites, her boobies for the whole bag, but I can’t stop thinking of her. Her laughter scalds my face. I begin to melt.

When I reach the nadir of the teeter-totter, I let my body fall backwards, sending Joe Wessel, my tottering partner, falling back to the earth with a crash. He cries out, grabbing his groin. The children laugh. I don’t feel bad. He tells anyone who will listen that he wants to be a girl when he grows up. I just helped him along. He cries out to the playground attendant, but the old dyke is too busy watching the Hunt twins going down the wide mouth slide, arms interlocked, hip to hip. I can almost see a droplet of saliva on her chin, like a dog waiting for its supper.

I pull the splinter from my leg and a squirt of blood lands on my hand. I taste it. It is salty. My leg throbs. I wonder about all the germs embedded on that splinter of wood, and picture myself in a hospital bed, dying of a mystery infection rampaging through my body.

I see David Turk near the soccer goal. He sells half caps of his Ritalin for five bucks a throw, but he has always hooked me up, because when played hospital, I let him be the doctor. He owes me and he knows it. A dose of the Rit would take the edge off the pain in my leg and maybe even drown out Suzie’s laughter for the rest of the afternoon. I have to get to him fast. The recess bell is going to ring any second, and I don’t want to get stuck snorting a pixie stick before class.

Not again.



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HOT GUTS
Posted by thebelligerentyears
May 2, 2008 at 1:58 am
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The “Little Golden Books” You Were Never Supposed to See #3
Posted by thebelligerentyears
May 1, 2008 at 7:03 pm
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