Another wasted day. Hey, it's what I do best. Talked to the old man for over an hour today. We brainstormed on the boston pig. I'm never gonna do another drama again. I swear. I've gotta overhaul a big chunk of it. We came up with some good ideas and now I'm not exactly sure where I want the story to go anymore. I reckon I'll figure it out. The three-toed screenwriter. I'm endangered you know. Poachers hunt me for my oily pelt and scent glands. Natives shoot me with poisonous darts. They catch me in nets when I fall. They don't want to bruise my tender flesh. I'm a delicacy. The native women, crouching topless in a circle, stir me in a bowl with herbs and warm spit. And eagles grab me out of treetops and regurgitate me to their chicks. Anything I can do to help. I'm high protein.
I do look kind of filthy when I swim though. I'm gonna go brush my fangs and hit the hay. Maybe do some shitwork on the movie. goodnight.
I do look kind of filthy when I swim though. I'm gonna go brush my fangs and hit the hay. Maybe do some shitwork on the movie. goodnight.
mad_fer_it:
that is epic.... it's like your channeling the spirit of marlon perkins from mutual of omaha's wild kingdom.... he is dead right.... anyways, you are a writer 
mad_fer_it:
did u make your deadline..... is the pig on a spit..... 