Whereas usually I end up nodding off to the soothing sound of wookie discourse in the next room (as my father habitually watches Star Wars to lull him to sleep), last night it was I who needed some late night telly to numb my mind. And, since Dad has since moved out of my house and back into his, I had full reign over tv subject matter. I love Star Wars as much as the next girl, but flipping through channels seemed more adventurous at 2am.
I landed on a cheaply recorded, vaguely familiar film and realized that one of the actors was an old flame. Quickly I flashback to five years earlier when Driscol asked me to join him in acting in a dramatic suspense picture written by one of his friends from art school. I reluctantly agreed. Now I suddenly realized that I soon might see myself on screen.
Sure enough, several excruciating minutes later, I watched myself lying in bed with Driscol, smoking a cigarette, naked from the waist up. I looked around my living room to make sure my dad wasn't sitting next to me.
"Come over here, my darling hippopotamus."
"You know I don't like to be called that."
I seemed to be repeating playfully how I didn't want to be referred to as a hippo and simultaneously figuring out Discol's character's complex secret arrangements to kill me, all the while my breasts bare and my figure looking highly hippo-ish. I dramatically scribbled some wavy lines symbolizing important information into a notebook using a giant sharpie marker.
I couldn't bare to watch any more, especially since I remembered that this was my only scene.
Although my acting was impeccable, I'm not sure my dad would be proud of his little girl for a job well done. I hope Chewbacca never fails him.
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