Friday, June 17, 2005

Tomas & Katherine

Katherine enters the Kitchen where Tomas is eating cereal. Tomas looks perturbed.

T: Katherine, have you tried this low fat milk? It’s totally without substance. It’s almost as if they combined milk and water to create this foul liquid.

Katherine doesn’t answer and Tomas takes note of her for the first time since she entered the room. Her face is crumpled up in anger. She looks like a pouting child.

T: What’s the matter, Katherine? Need another botox injection?

K: My publicist just informed me that we’re getting married. Tomas, we’ve only been dating since April.

T: Yes, I am aware of that Katherine. But things move fast in Hollywood. In fact, things are moving so fast for us, we have to travel back in time to before me met and get married in January.

K: Tomas Darling, I love you. But like a father. You are sixteen years my elder. I cannot marry you.

T: Oh, but Katherine. This is purely a business arrangement. We both have new movies coming out and imagine the money involved. I have Nike lined up to sponsor the wedding. Then there will be the obvious commercial tie-ins, such as action figures and a spin off movie franchise.

Katherine's face squashes and inverts with deep thought. Tomas looks on with patience. Suddenly, it reverts back to its normalness.

K: But what about Scientology? It doesn't allow the sinful gain of money through the use of love, without a princely donation to the order of course. This venture will cost more money than it will make.

T: Oh, haven’t I told you. I invented that baloney back in the eighties to make a name for myself when I was struggling actor. It's only a load of poop. I mean, aliens... sheesh!

K: What? You’re responsible for Battlefield Earth!

T: Lets not dwell on that, honey. We’re getting married. Show me the money. Show me the money. Show me. The Money. SHOW ME THE MONAYYYY! Say it with me.

K: Don't call me honey.

T: Say it.

K: Show me the money.


And later that day, at a press conference.

T: Yes, I proposed to her. It was early this morning at the Eiffel Tower, so I haven't slept at all. Today is a magnificent day for me, I'm engaged to a magnificent woman.

And Tomas cracks his trademark smile and climbs over the furniture like an untrained baboon.


  1. If the shit bot likes it then I like it. I am too tired to read it though. I read the last sentence and laughed my ass off.

  2. It doesn't get any more poignant while seering actual muscle tissue from the bone.

    You know, with all the flack that the Cruise Missile is copping [from every direction it seems; quenching his thirst for publicity and then some], I can't help but admire the guy. Sixteen years the elder and still finding the cash to shimmy his meat and two veg all over a hot bodied femme with a face like an uber eager receptacle.

    BTW, the movie tie-ins were sublime and I couldn't help but be moved by the use of the extended version of the shortened version of his name.