Anisa's Note: This is the "novelization" (and no, it's not really a novel) of a video that demonstrates exactly to what measures required high school classes will drive us. Specifically, a "STOMP project" assigned as part of "History and Appreciation of the Visual and Performing Arts." The STOMP part means that the video was supposed to incorporate music made with everyday items and some sort of plotline. Paul Laurence Dunbar High School and Deviating have no affiliation with STOMP (the performing group) as far as I know.
DISCLAIMER: I am *not* responsible for letting my imagination get away from me. Just because it *didn't* happen doesn't mean that it couldn't have. (And yes, I am aware that some of the stuff chronicled is just this side of legality.)
CAST:
Ladies' Man: Daniel Skillman
Fiery Little Hellraising Waitress: Katie Radun
Bartender/double-balled Nerf gun handler: Emily Bayma
Rich Guy: Conrad Robinson
Gangster: Phil Townsend
The Lady of the Night/Slut/Tonight's Feature Attraction: Jennifer Flinchum
CREW:
Hair and Makeup Artist: Jennifer Flinchum
Cameraman: Kevin Teague
Choreographer: Kevin Teague
Director: Kevin Teague
Down the streets the ladies' man walks. His gait is swift and unchanging as he approaches the nondescript door and taps out the ritual as he has done every other night for the past three months.
The door is opened by that hellraiser of a waitress as always, the one who could manage to scowl and look utterly enchanting at the same time. As he reaches back to close the door, he takes care to touch her hand.
She snatches her hand away, retreating back to the bar where the bartender winks at him. He acknowledges the affection with a curt nod and turns to one of the highest priorities in the bar: the game.
The rich guy and the gangster are already seated, idly throwing blatant glances over at the bar, where the waitress is trying to ignore the three who will undoubtedly give her a load of hell before the night's over. The ladies' man sits, accepting the cards that will make or break him tonight.
The bartender looks on eagerly; assessing which "lady of the night" would bring in a decent profit tonight.
The waitress weighs the value of filing for sexual harassment against the need for money.
The betting commences, the pile of chips growing with the allure of tonight's fortune. Each man stares the others down, each wanting the thrill of victory and the exhilaration of alcohol in a time where legality is thrown to the winds.
Little by little, the bartender realizes that tonight's comers could make the night worth it. As they demand drinks, she sends her fiery little hellraising waitress to suffer their harassment.
She strides to them, carefully keeping out of arms reach of them. The ladies' man orders the drinks, an easy matter when the rich guy and the gangster's choices never differ. The bartender's halfway to mixing them when tonight's feature attraction saunters up.
She's like all the girls that have turned the upper floors into their private playground: undoubtedly attractive, sensual, and forgettable, the last being key to not preying on the paying customer's mind. She makes her way around the table, doing her job stupendously: a light touch there, a subtle pinch there, the acceptance of money from the rich guy, the casual swishing of the feather boa, and settles herself, like a queen, onto the gangster's lap.
The waitress steels herself and brings the drinks, trying not to make eye contact with any of the marauders around the table. The gangster's whiskey, the ladies' man's wine. As she approaches the rich guy, he, in his drunken stupor, decides to take his life--and her backside--into his own hands.
The slap startles the entire bar into silence, the only sounds being coy tittering of the lady of the night, draped like curtains over the gangster's window. The waitress regains her composure, haughtily picks up her tray, and marches over to the bar, planning on giving the bartender a piece of her mind.
The lady of the night bangs on the table, trying to recapture the wayward admiration of the men. The betting continues, the rich guy's escapade retreating from their minds as the tension nears the breaking point. Finally, the ladies' man calls.
The gangster lays down the best hand he's had all month, thanks to the added luck of the lady of the night.
The ladies' man's hand is less than stellar, but such sacrifices must be made in order to get sympathy from the ladies.
The rich guy wins, his hand being the best the table's seen in a while.
The lady, seeing the ploy worked, carefully disentangles herself from the gangster and moves to the rich guy's side, hoping she'll get a big bonus.
The gangster, on top of losing a promising hand, now fumes with the disappointment of losing tonight's female companionship.
The ladies' man diplomatically calls a toast, hoping to repair the wounded poker circle.
The aces slide out of the rich man's sleeve.
The gangster loses control, and shoots twice as the bartender moves to soothe ruffled feathers, and hopefully not lose any business.
The violin case rests tranquilly against the table leg.
OUTAKES (let these into your mind for jest a second....)
The cameraman in the gangster's lap.
The cameraman and the gangster teaching the waitress to swing her hips.
The lady of the night sexually harassing the gangster.
The bartender and the cameraman "playing" together.
The bartender as the gangster's indignant lover, protecting him from the "slut".
Splitting the gangster three ways.
Being drunk the next morning.
The gangster and his violin.
Can anyone decipher these viewing guides?
"Emily, have you been drinking?!" "No Dad, I swear I didn't have anything illegal..."
That's Jennifer-ese for "yes".
Do *you* remember last night?
Why is the carpet all wet?
Does sparkling grape juice have alcohol in it?
No, it's really just an inside joke...we weren't *drunk*...could you define drunk?
This project gets a PG-13 rating for....
Mrs. Williams liked ours better!
Our costumes rocked!
"I was, like, neurotic! I was SO sure I'd lost the card table..."
"Oh baby..."
"I drink a whiskey drink, I drink a vodka drink, I drink a lager drink, I drink a cider drink"
Look, even Emily can swing her hips!
I swear that I did NOT do that on purpose!
What's the slut doing in the waitress's lap?
Was she slapped, tripped or pinched?
What, I don't get to be in the middle?
The gangster dropping his cards.
The lady of the night getting cards instead of money.
"Is there any way to get this out of a white shirt?"
The bartender's "diamond" ring getting kissed by the rich guy.
"Hey, I can play 'Three Blind Mice' on these bottles!"
The slut-turned-hair-and-makeup-artist.
It's better to have a bad reputation than no reputation at all.
Are those three all dressed up in dresses and makeup?!
Slamming the table so hard that the lamp went out.
The "what, no liquor?" looks.
The lack of rhythm in the rich guy and ladies' man.
The rich guy: Guys, I don't have any cards...
Hey, the gangster's growling like a rabid dog!
The bartender's mad dash for the stereo.
The rich guy's refined poker chip toss.
The secret of what's really under that hat.
The look on the gangster's face when the slut and the boa come up. (The "Jennifer I'm going to kill you when this is all over" look.)
One guess as to what ELSE is in the slut's dress.
Can the gangster see down the slut's dress from that angle?
The look on the slut's face when she gets the rich guy's cards instead of money.
The look on the rich guy's face when he slaps the waitress.
How many straps are visible?
Is the gangster feeling himself up?
The bartender sure can manhandle that gun.
Okay, let's quit with the ball jokes.
I'M TRAPPED IN A BASEMENT WITH CRAZY PEOPLE!!!