….slipped on the shoulder gravel and fell down out of sight. I heard two shots. And then I saw her again through the side window. She was standing up straight and calmly pumping more slugs into the windshield of the truck that had just rammed us. Elapsed time: three seconds and she was back in the car”.
I stomped the accelerator and the old Pathfinder leaped. “What happened?”
“I slipped getting out but it was okay. I fell on my stomach but then had a clear shot at their tires. Hit them both. When I jumped up, I saw the two guys sitting there. One had a rifle. I thought a few shots into the cab might give us more time to get away.”
“It made my day.”
And so goes a scene in the cheap B-flick kind of novel we are writing. Of course the book careens from one Bruce Willis-like incident to the next Arnie-style fracas but the twist is that it’s two old people. He’s 70 and she’s a close second. But she has yoga. It’s a buddy movie.
Sal won’t let me write in a sex scene.
“I could easily get you naked. We’re running from some cops. Fall in some water. Get somewhere and have to strip down naked to get dry? Piece of cake.”
“No. No, no no!”
“OK, I stop at bra and panties. I can make that work.”
“Say ‘bra and panties’ one more time and I am not writing anymore. I swear.”
“Okay. We surprise a woman by breaking into her house to get dry and she’s in bra and panties. I could make her Asian or something for added interest?”
“That’s it! We’re done here. I quit. No more editorial work for you, pig-face!”
“Pig-face? Isn’t that a bit harsh for your co-author?”
“Look. No sex. No nudity, okay? Just stop with the bra and panties crap.”
“Okay, fine. We just kill and wound people. Maybe blow up some cars. Steal stuff. That kind of thing. But no sex. No sex because why? Because we’re British?”
“Exactly! I was born in England and we don’t talk about sex. Too rude. But murder is perfectly fine. We love talking about murder, don’t you know? And the weather. We’ll talk about weather. Make that work!”
“Cheap B action movies always have scantily clad women. It’s de rigeur like a Klingon is to Star Trek.”
“Fine. You can have a scantily clad Klingon. Happy now?”
“Hmmmm…not bad. The story needed a twist. Let me think about that…..”
Well you are on your way. As to the spice o’ life stuff… read a few Harlequins. They are the masters of understatement and innuendo to the extent that no one blushes while reading them. But the subtle licentious message is received.
Two Canadian women arrested in Cambodia for lewd dancing are on their way home via Thailand, the Philippines and Vancouver. All charges were dropped but three foreign Nationals are detained. Clothed horizontal dancing is frowned upon in Cambodia. What would they think about mud wrestling?
What do YOU think of Sally in a dirty Harry scene shooting bad guys?!
As I said, “You two are on your way.” Are you aiming for an action packed ironic noir 1930’s detective type. Where the door bursts open and a car drives in, stops on a dime and a pair of gams swing out of the roadster.
No gams, heaving bosoms, luscious lips or come-hither looks. Our women (heroes) are tough! Sal makes Bonny Parker of Bonnie and Clyde fame look wussy. Many women nowadays (those in the spotlight like Gloria Allred) do not like to be portrayed as soft. Smart. Kind, maybe. Definitely UNITED. But they prefer possessing lethal or litigious powers. Somehow the Doberman has been substituted for the Poodle.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that!”
Nice one You Two! I’m with Sal on the scenery. And I wasn’t even born in Britain, but there is already far too much of that rubbish out there, so, I guess you’ll just have to think of something else! Meanwhile, back on the coast, it has stopped raining for a bit, and we have had two back to back sunshine filled days, glorious; and the snowdrops and crocuses are blooming. There, the weather, we can still talk about the weather. And C. is busy building a new outhouse, speaking of crap! XX
I little bit of kissing would be okay, right?
Not without pre-authorization forms. Not today. Sal has to apply for a permit if she gets the urge to apply a lip press now. Needless to say, we have no paperwork pending at the moment. But, you never know. I even have the forms in my wallet – just in case.
Hell, I’d sue dogs for an unwanted lick nowadays! “Your dog licked me!”
(Please acknowledge that you know I am just joking. Sal has a permanent license to smooch me whenever she wants. And dogs are welcome, too. I was just joking. Honest. OK, I give up. I am going to resign!)
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I knew that.
Thankyou. Your mind might be untidy but it’s sane.