THE ARTIST Bloopers.
Really worth watching if you like this movie or just like Silent Bloopers
Thanks to /Film for finding this.
Nice. The Artist is great, and these bloopers are no exception.
About Anything and Everything
A little preface about this idea. Someone suggests a thing, and then I write something about or including that suggested thing. I asked a friend to name a thing a random for the first one, but after this, feel free to suggest something. The titles to these stories shall be the suggestion they are based on.
Early Romans Used Porcupine Quills As Toothpicks
Gladius stood at the bars of prison. He was awaiting his turn to do battle as a gladiator for the entertainment of his captors. The guards were making the rounds distributing “food” for the prisoners. It was a lumpy mass of indeterminable origin, but to stay alive here, one needs all the food they can get. The small mass of guards approached Gladius’ cell. “Slomp.” That was the sound of the food hitting Gladius’ tray. “Slomp,” said one of the guards. “He said he fuckin’ hates you,” said a different, but still not really important to the overall story guard. “Oh,” Gladius said. “And I don’t know who you are,” unimportantly said that second guard, again. “Oh,” Gladius said. “And NOW I SHALL MASTURBATE,” said some one else who was somewhere else and wholly unimportant to anything going on here.
“C’mon, it’s time for your fight,” said guard number two as he opened the door to Gladius’ cell.
“But I thought my fight was to be on the morrow,” said Gladius.
“SLOOOOOMMMPP!” said the first guard.
“But it is only fight’s eve not fight day,” whined Gladius, gosh I hate him. This Gladius guy sucks in my opinion, but what do I know.
“SLOMP,” cried the fearless leadership of the first guard who is a much better character in my opinion.
“Fine, ‘tis my destiny to fight in this arena regardless of time.”
“Please, just follow me to the arena,” said the second guard who was honestly getting rather tired of his job. He doesn’t like the way all the destined-to-die inmates spit and kick at him. He understands it, but it’s not like he is the only thing keeping him here. He has been punched in the face three times today alone, but he finds his strength renewed when he remembers what he is doing it all for or who, rather, as it would be in this case where it is his wife Amelia and his son Julius. Seeing their smiling faces greet him when he made it home was all he cared about, but work was starting to get in the way of that. Each day requiring him to stay later and later and the number of people who would soon gladiate grew every day, and some nights he didn’t get to go home at all. He heard that these years are the most important for a child Julius’ age, and not being there for Julius is killing him inside, he doesn’t want his son being a beggar or a leper. After today he was going to ask the boss about reassignment, but if the boss doesn’t go for that, he is more than prepared to quit his job.
“Perchance, whereas you filled mine belly with nourishing food, I shall fill yours with the sharp edge of a knife.” Gladius whispered in the ear of the second guard as he stabbed him with a knife he had stole earlier from a passing knifeman who was there to visit his animal rapist cousin. Gladius threw the body of the second guard at the first guard.
“Verily, I must make haste into the shadows if I am too escape my ultimate fate.” thought Gladius.
“Jesus, fucking kill that guy and if you could kill Gladius as well that would be nice.” said the second guard.
“Slomp,” said the first guard preparing to avenge his fallen friend.
Gladius tried to escape but got lost and ended up in the arena anyway.
“OUR CHALLENGER HAS ARRIVED” announced the announcer as that was what he was payed to do.
“THIS ONE GOES BY THE RATHER FITTING NAME OF GLADIUS.” The audience sat in anticipation of the bloodbath and didn’t really care for that joke. It went over better in the announcers head when he first thought of it, but decided that it really didn’t even matter because his second joke was better anyways.
“I BET HE SHALL NOT BE SO GLADIUS WHEN HE SEES THAT HIS OPPONENT TODAY SHALL BE… LIONS!!!” The crowd roared. The announcer felt glad that so many people enjoyed that joke, but no one really cared for it. They were just cheering cause he said lions.
Gladius was walking around the arena like a jackass cause he is dumb. God, I hate Gladius. SO. FUCKING. MUCH.
“AT LEAST IT WAS GOING TO BE LIONS, BUT IT APPEARS THAT WE HAVE A LAST MINUTE SUBSTITUTION, AS ONE OF OUR GUARDS HAS SWORN TO AVENGE ANOTHER GUARD KILLED BY GLADIUS EARLIER TODAY. SORRY, PEOPLE” The crowd booed at the quickly repealed lions, but they were still happy to be at the arena to watch a man die.
“THE REQUEST BY THE AVENGER IS THAT THIS FIGHT BE AN UNARMED FIGHT TO THE DEATH.”
A large gate was raised, and the first guard entered with a porcupine quill in his teeth.
“BUT A WEAPON THERE BE IN THE MAW OF MY OPPONENT” yelled Gladius complaining. God, what is it with this guy? IS IT JUST ME? IF IT IS JUST ME WHO HATES HIM, I’LL SHUT UP. Wait, no I won’t.
“THAT IS JUST A TOOTHPICK. LET THE FIGHTING… BEGIN.”
The first guard went punched at Gladius a bunch of times, but he only hit him a couple of times. Then Gladius took the porcupine quill out of the first guards mouth and stabbed him, because stabbing is all Gladius is good at apparently.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE VICTORY GOES TO GLADIUS.” The crowd roared with praises for Gladius. With his victory came freedom and with that freedom, he returned to his homeland. HOORAY. THAT IS JUST FUCKING GREAT, BECAUSE EVERYONE LOVES GLADIUS, OH WAIT NO THEY DON’T. I HATE YOU SO MUCH GLADIUS. I HOPE YOU ARE ENSLAVED AGAIN, BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE YOU. YOU ARE THE WORST CHARACTER EVER. Hopefully, Gladius dies soon, but he probably won’t cause he is so brave or whatever. He’ll probably just keep doing who gives a shit.
I wrote a short story for a contest a while back and here it is.
A Meeting of Sorts
DJ Buckley
Larry Biltmore was poor. Larry Biltmore was so poor that if low income housing was a person, Larry Biltmore would be the also poor friend who lets him crash at his place until he can find his own place, but Larry knows it will be a while before he gets a place. Low Income Housing really doesn’t have its life together, but if the meeting Larry is about to attend goes well, then maybe at least one of them will have a decent financial footing to stand on. This meeting was taking place in a luxury hotel called The Holiday Inn, and after stepping inside, asking for directions, and following those instructions, Larry Biltmore was outside the door of room 214, which contained the meeting he was about to attend.
Larry stood outside the room trying to do his best to make himself appear professional before he knocked on the door. He then, knocked on the door. “Are you Mr. Biltmore?” Asking the question was a feminine voice hiding behind the barely ajar door. This jar was of a quality more akin to wood than glass, though there was a small glass section three-quarters of the way up the jarring door to view possible entrants. “Yes,” said Larry, who was Mr. Biltmore. “We’ve been expecting you, come in,” said what might be a woman. It was a woman Larry decided as the door opened, though he still couldn’t be sure because Low Income Housing told him that like half the women in town were like trannies. And that the doctors were so good you couldn’t tell they had that like tranny surgery. And that if you accidently banged one you would turn into a gay, so Larry wasn’t about to trust this possible woman on whether or not she was a woman. He walked inside to find the lady-thing in S & M garb.
“Where is Mr. Goodman?”
“Oh, he won’t be here for a while?”
“Is he busying making The Borrowers 2?”
“No, he has business elsewhere, so he left me here to keep you company.”
The sharp crack of a whip echoed throughout the room, and it made Larry laugh. “I’m not… er… no… no thank you, I… just want… business,” which was as true as it was awkwardly stumbled upon. “I don’t think you got a choice,” that Mr.-Mom-thing said approaching Larry whip in hand.
“I really don’t want to do this; I just want to do business.”
“Well, you’re going to have to put pleasure before business this time.”
Larry, trying to restrain himself, angrily mumbled “I appreciate the sentiment, but no thank you,” through gritted teeth. “I don’t remember Mr. Goodman saying you had a choice in the matter,” he-maybe-she said then whipped him in the center of the chest with the whip that cracked earlier. “RAAAH,” he screamed in pain. That whip along with him/her had to go, and Larry was trying to come up with a way to do it.
“Do you mind if I set the alarm for right before Mr. Goodman gets back?”
“Whatever turns you on, sugar.”
Larry walked over to the night stand where the alarm clock was.
“What time is he getting back?”
“Around SeveUNNGGHH,” whats-her-or-maybe-his-face said as Larry threw an alarm clock at her face knocking her out.
“Looks like you’re OUT OF TIME, CLOCK FACE,” Larry opened the window then dropped the possible tranny out of the window. “Looks like you’re also out of UNBROKEN LEGS!” He ransacked the place then left.
I’m gonna write jokes here.
I’m trying to become more consistent in my writing, and I figured that the best way to do so would be to place in a place where there is a record of what I wrote and when I wrote it. Sorry if this part is boring, I’ll try and make the posts more humorous from this point on.
Boners,
D.j. Buckley
I wrote a short story for a contest.
I wrote a short story for a…oh, I already said that. Well, if you want to read it, you can download and read it for free here. http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/a-meeting-of-sorts/12184441
