Or: When I Finished My First Screenplay… (That sounds
pretentious, doesn’t it? There’s no other way
to say it, though, and it’s the subject of this
poem, thus it has to be said. If it makes
you feel any better, no one will read it,
so, um … to all the agents out with there: Hello.
No worries. This is the business we’ve chosen.
Where was I? Oh yeah. It’s like I was saying…)
When I finished my first screenplay, I’d wanted
to thank the old friend who had inspired the
main female antagonist in the story.
The character’s name is Cecelia (C.C.).
She has two brothers: George and Scott. Their surname
is Turgidson. Get it? No, probably not.
It’s not a very funny joke anyway,
but it’s a reference to Dr. Strangelove
and the story I wrote is as well. Mostly.
Anyway, C.C. is a total nightmare
of a human being and I needed a
point of reference for that, so I pulled out
my old yearbook and looked for an evil face.
When I saw hers, I cackled with glee, slammed the
book shut and tossed it back in the storage box.
After that, I wrote C.C. like a mixture
of this herkey-jerkey girl I knew back then
and Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor
in Terminator 2 – the insane Sarah
who’s paranoid and war crazy. C.C. rocks.
She takes over the story and drives the plot
as fast as she drives the car she steals from… well…
It doesn’t matter. Now’s not the time to tell
the details of Of Myths and Legends. It is,
however, time to admit I didn’t quite
understand Dante until I sent this girl
a message calling her my Beatrice. My
muse. My inspiration. I’m sure she read that
and went, “What the hell is he talking about?”
Erm, I don’t know … I was trying to sound smart.
I wanted to brag about the character
and say thank you. It was never meant to be
a romantic gesture. Upon receiving
no reply, I looked over the things I’d said,
then I read (most of) Dante’s epic poem
and puked. I want to send another message
to her saying, “HI … YOU’RE NOT MY BEATRICE.
I MISSPOKE! MY BAD!” … But I can’t. That would be…