Friday, September 26, 2008

The Lamest Action Hero

I woke up this morning feeling like someone had beaten the crap out of me while I was sleeping.
Seriously, it felt like the aftermath of a torture scene in some action movie, as though I’d been bound to a chair and was being slowly and methodically beaten by some creepy old guy who’s referred to as being “an artist when it comes to inflicting pain,” who, upon hearing that, looks up from the table on which his implements of torture are laid out, smiles, and says, “What can I say? I love my work,” then returns to inflicting mind-numbing agony on me, while some really hot – but evil – chick dressed in skintight clothes, with whom I nearly had a romantic interlude earlier in the movie before I learned that she was evil, tells me that this will all stop if I just tell them where the girl* is, and while I initially respond with wisecracks like, “If she were up your ass you’d know,” as she keeps screaming “Where’s the girl?” while the torture artist rains down kidney punches on me, I eventually resort to simply saying “Fuck you!” but eventually can only manage to feebly spit out blood and weakly gasp “Fu…fu…fu…” and I can’t even hear the question anymore and probably couldn’t tell them where the girl is even if I wanted to, and then I’m set loose from the chair and my wrists are tied together and looped over a hook suspended from the ceiling of the dimly-lit basement in which this is all taking place, and as the torture artist’s assistants proceed to beat me about the ribs, legs, and feet with canes, the torture artist, laughing with sadistic glee, plugs in The Device…
Yeah, that’s pretty much how I felt this morning.
Of course, none of that was the actual cause of my soreness this morning; that all stems from having sat on the couch with my feet up on the coffee table for several hours while Scott and I watched the Riff Trax versions of Reefer Madness and Raiders of the Lost Ark, the dampness of the weather, and just generally not aging well.

*Or microfilm, or disc, or formula, or MacGuffin of your choice.

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