Old Folks lived in a retirement home in
Point and Shoot, Florida, like Elvis, in Bubba Ho-Tep. This is not an imitation
it's in the same genré. Retirement home buddy movie. His buddy is his wife Brenda.
She's old too.
Agoraphobia is in the public domain.
They go to The Red Bar together on Sundays to hear Dread Clampitt play.
Old Folks owns a meteorite shaped like a blackjack, or sap. It's the color of pewter
and heavier than gold, although harder. It is hard as adamant. Hard as a fiddler's
dick.
An archeologist friend found it in the desert doing a site survey on
horseback and sent it to Old Folks, like stealing a coprolite, or a minié ball, from
the museum. Who would miss it? It had no archeological significance. It was just
a rare collectible. A curio.
It was smaller than a fish priest, like the
one Old Folks's father brought back from Micronesia in World War II, or the baton
Captain Knauer swung at Paul Crewe in The Longest Yard.
Crewe caught
it in his hand. He would have taken it away from the captain and whipped his ass
if the other guards wouldn't have killed him. Jumped on him like the cops on Rodney
King in a Spike Lee movie.
Would it be radioactive, like the material in
the trunk of the car in Repo Man?
Joseph Campbell says the quest for
the father is part of every hero's identity myth.
Michael Jackson, who collects
such things, hears about the sap and sends two thugs to the nursing home to steal
it. Or the government wants to confiscate it for a psy-ops program. Stealing it will
be a black ops job. Like Watergate, or Bush's military records.
Anyhow, the
retirement home is not a safe place to own a meteorite shaped like a blackjack.
Big fight scene, in the dark, like the shootout in the warehouse where the floats
are kept, in Broadway Danny Rose, everyone talking like a duck, from helium
gas.
It's stolen, and Old Folks goes on a cross-country chase to recover
it. He leaves Brenda behind. That way he can have wild, screaming sex with groupies
in exotic locations, on the road. Maybe just around the Redneck Riviera.
Old Folks is a roving correspondent for the L. A. (Lower Alabama) Free Press.
Or, no, Old Folks is faithful to Brenda. It's the government agents who have sex.
The government is bad. Sex is bad. Think of Yves Cloquet having sex with Kiki in
Naked Lunch and turning into a bird of prey. With sharp claws and a tearing
beak.
Bad, bad, bad.
Even if Old Folks gets it back he'll have to
kill all the witnesses.
And we can always bring in a script doctor, if we
get bogged down or sidetracked.
How will it end?
The Talking Asshole
will get wrapped around the axle of the Duc de Ventre's Hispano-Suiza and hang out
of Old Folks's ass like a sheet of toilet paper, or a fax.
Wait a minute,
I'm getting a fax.
Horny Pills. No prescription needed.