(Watch the movie before you read my paper. Otherwise you will think I'm some kind of freak.)
Once upon a time. The words to start off every great story. The young woman sat back in her red armchair, letting it swallow her up. She fiddled with the pen in her hand, trying to figure out where to take her story next. She knew she wanted to write, but about what, she wondered.
She pushed herself up from her chair, settling herself in front of the window.
“What a strange site. There is a man down there in a nuns outfit. It looks like he fell off his bike. Maybe I should go help him,” she thought to herself.
She started to back up from the window when she noticed that there was already a girl there helping him.
“Well,” she thought, “she can take care of him. I have a story to write. But maybe, just maybe, I can use him as inspiration.”
Once she had again gotten comfortable in her armchair, she picked up her pen and note pad.
Once upon a time, there was a man in a nun outfit. He was peddling along, trying to escape the harsh realities of the world around him, into what could only be described as a dream. A dream that would make no sense, have no direction, but would be apart from reality. He fell to the ground, hoping to throw himself into the dream. And it worked. He awoke to see a young woman rearranging his clothes on a strangers bed. She must of felt him watching her, as she turned around to him. He held out his hand to her, which began to open up in front of them. Ants started to crawl out from out of the hole, into the palm of his hand.
“This is starting to go somewhere,” she considered. “But something shocking needs to happen. Something unexpected. Something...risque.”
The man became aroused from the scene outside. His entire life, he was told to be normal, to control his feelings. But he was in the dream world, he could do what he wanted here. He turned slowly to look at the woman. How beautiful she was, a body of perfection. He crept towards her, looking her from top to bottom. He started to grab her at her body, carassing her boobs. The man looked her over again, seeing straight through her clothing. Looking at the beautiful body the lay beneath. He grabbed her again, visualizing what wonders were hidden.
“I like it, but it’s starting to get a little too risque. Maybe we should add some drama to this story,” the young woman thought to herself, trying to keep on track. “But I just don’t know! Perhaps I should throw something weird and unexpected in there. Keep the audience on their feet.”Suddenly the woman jumped back and away from the man. He didn’t understand why she had moved from out of reach of him, away from his touch. He started toward her, watching her as she picked up a raquet. Again, he didn’t understand why she had moved away from him, it was his dream, he should be able to do what he wanted. As he tried to move towards her, he found that he could not. He had suddenly become attached to two ropes, which were attached to dead donkeys, stone tablets, grand pianos and priest. All he wanted to do was get to the girl, so he kept pulling and pulling. Over and over again he yanked at the ropes in his hand, trying to get closer to the corner of the room, and closer to the girl. Right as he was getting close, the woman ran out of the corner and out of the door.
“I am so hungry! I deserve a break after all this writing,” decided the young woman.”
She climbed out of her big red chair, and walked into the kitchen. The little yellow kitchen was filled to the brim with treats of all sorts, sent from her many admirers and publishing companies.
“Maybe I will have some of this,” she said aloud to herself, as she picked up a gift basket overflowing with cookies, cakes, coffees, and more.
“But I would hate to ruin the beautiful packaging,” she thought as she started to unravel the yellow bow off of the purple cellophane covering. “But I am hungry, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
After choosing a couple of large peanut butter cookies and some instant hot chocolate, she returned to her writing spot.
“These cookies are just so amazing. I love how they fall apart in your hand, and melt in your mouth. Wait a minute, what is that,” she mused out loud, as she pulled something from her mouth. She put the unknown object in her hand to contemplate its origin.
“I think its an armpit hair! How gross! That was in my mouth!” The young woman exclaimed, not caring that she was speaking to an empty room. “I can’t eat this! I’m going out for some real food.”
So the young woman put on her big brown coat, slipped on her flats and walked out her apartment door, leaving her story, unfinished.