My Life in Movies

Yesterday, my mind went roving, as it wasn't required for the mundane tasks of rolling up old fence wire and pulling old posts. Amongst some of the odder thoughts I perused, I got to thinking about what kind of movie my story would make. Probably a real slow, boring one. Other then that it would kind of depend on who was making the movie. You know, the trademark styles... the treatment.

For instance, if it were anime', I would spend the whole movie in a grimace and making little growling noises with a black exclamation point hanging above me and bizarre sweat drips suspended around my head. That is until the final minutes of the movie where I would be blown into another dimension by some sort of martial arts/ wizard being.

Now if Disney did my movie, they would kill me off in the first ten minutes. Disney always kills off the mom. Then for some strange reason, Mac would have to trek across country with the dog and the ponies. All of whom would be able to speck english, when no one was looking, and would have bows in their hair and wear stylized team jerseys. Then their pictures would turn up on the fronts of lunch boxes and as mini collectibles.

If Hollywood got ahold of me, I would also be killed off, but they would kill me off because I'm boring. There would probably be some sort of light plane accident in my pasture so there could be an explosion. Hollywood has to have an explosion! This would, of course, rip a hole in the earth that would uncover?....... a deposit of alien babies that would spring out and wreck havoc on the world? ..... possibly a buried clue to a lost ancient civilization, thus leading Mac on the adventure of a life time where he would meet the woman of his dreams. Possibly played by Catherine Zeta-Jones....... a knight's templar?

God help me if the swedish film makers get ahold of me. My slow, dull life made to look even more slow and more dull. Then I would drop dead in the pasture puling fence posts. My life force would fade in a glow of cold, brilliant white light that would morph into the highlight in the eye of a child. Then you would hear a voice in Swedish ( english subtitles), "Inga, what are you doing? Go outside with the other children." The child would slowly blink, then get up from her white chair in the white kitchen and run outside as her mother instructed. Then leaning, and looking out the window at her daughter. the mother would murmur in Swedish (english subtitles), "My daughter... she has such an old soul". Roll credits. It would win some awards but it wouldn't sell much popcorn.

The movies all seem to require my demise. I think I'd rather just hang on. I'll keep working on the little farm with Pip and Chloe and Fiona, the dog, and possibly someday, we will have a story worth telling.... and without explosions. It could happen.

Louie