You mess with Harpo Marx, you get the horns.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Bond No More!

Pierce Brosnan has finally given up the Walther PPK. No more shall he ask for medium-dry vodka martinis, shaken, not stirred (he can go back to his real love: Jolt Cola.) No more shall he careen about in an Aston Martin, except for those films in which BMW had got the sponsorship.

He's Bond no more.

Which is just as well, as the former Remington Steele was entering Roger Moore, Sean Connery territory. Seriously, how many people will believe a Bond who can get the senior-citizen discount at the local Denny's, not that the real Bond would deign to eat there. Of course age was the reason Brosnan was sent packing out of MI6 and not pictures like this one. (Relax ladies, it's just a role in a movie...maybe.) The real Bond though couldn't be magically transformed into a younger, goofier version, the way Jack Ryan was transformed from Harrison Ford into the gonad-prankstering Ben Affleck in The Sum of All Fears.

Of course, what would the real Bond be like? I can't imagine for a second that he'd be anywhere as dashing or as much a bird-magnet as the various actors who have played the role (with the exception of Roger Lazenby, who came across so wooden that he was in constant danger on the set of being devoured by termites.)

A real James can only imagine...(cue cliched daydream camera transition)


(Scene: An unnamed American city in the year 2005. A jet black car speeds down a street. Suddenly, machine gun fire riddles the tires of the car. It screeches to a halt and a bald and sinister-looking man, holding a nervous-looking white cat, jumps out and runs down an alleyway past two gentlemen of limited means.)

Wino 1: Watch it man! Some of us are trying to relax here!

Wino 2: Shoot, dude! That was totally uncool.

(A helicopter swoops out of the sky. From within the helicopter, a tuxedoed man swings down on a wire to the ground. Just before he reaches the pavement, he does a backflip into the air over a parked car, and draws his gun just before landing on both feet. He dashes into the alley.)

James Bond: Gentlemen, did you see a man, holding a cat, run through here?

(The two gentlemen of limited means look up at this figure. He is gravelly-faced, with a slightly countried British accent, made proper by sheer will. He is tall but only moderately so, not so as to make him more interesting to that of the opposite sex.)

Wino 1: Who the hell are you?

James Bond: Bond, James Bond. I'm on the hunt for Blof...

Wino 2: BOND?? Man, you ain't no James Bond!!

James Bond: I assure you good sir that I most certainly am! Now, if you could just tell me which way...

Wino 1: Naw, man. You can't be Bond!! You're all plain faced, son. Bond is like, Pierce Connery Moore, Jack. You're kinda Robert Lance Henrickson Redford Shatner DeVito.

James Bond: Listen, those are just the movies. I assure you, I am agent 007, Commander James Bond! Now please, I am in a great hurry! Did you see...

Wino 2: Prove it, dude!

James Bond: What?

Wino 2: Prove you're James Bond.

Wino1: Yeah, man! If you're James Bond, then you can do one of those Bond deals!

James Bond: I really don't have time for...

Wino 1: Wait, I know just the thing!

(Wino 1 produces a bottle of a dark liquid from his waistcoat.)

Wino 1: Here! (He hands Bond the bottle.) Tells us what wine this is.

Wino 2: Yeah, dude! If you're James Bond, identify that wine!

James Bond: I really don't have time for this.

Wino 1: (to Wino 2) See, he doesn't want to do it, 'cause he ain't Bond!

James Bond: Oh, all right!

(Bond unscrews the cap on the bottle, wipes the mouth of the bottle on his sleeve, and takes a sip of the liquid inside. His face screws up unpleasantly.)

Wino 1: Well?

James Bond: (with disgust) It's Ripple.

Wino 1: Yeah...but what year?

James Bond: ...This one. (He hands the bottle back to the first gentleman of limited means.)

Wino 2: Impressive!

Wino 1: No, no, that was an easy one. We've got to come up with something harder!

Wino 2: Wait, I know! (He produces a deck of cards.) Everyone knows that James Bond is the worlds' luckiest gambler. (To Bond) Here, draw a card and hold on to it.

(Bond reluctantly draws a card and holds it to his immaculately tailored jacket.)

Wino 2: (Drawing a card and holding it up) There, I got a King of Diamonds. Let's see him top that!

(Bond turns his card around, revealing an Ace of Spades.)

Wino 2: Whoa! Very Bond, dude!

Wino1: I'm still not convinced!

Wino 2: Two out of three?

Wino 1: Naw, man!! Let's see him pick up some chicks!

James Bond: I'm sorry, I really don't have any more time...

Wino 2: Yeah, dude! You should be able to pick up a couple of chicks, just like that!

James Bond: Listen, the helicopter pilot was a beautiful blonde woman. Would it help you to know that I had my way with her on the flight over here...while she was piloting the copter!?

Wino 2: Oh, could just be saying that, dude.

Wino 1: I completely agree with my associate. We need to see some impressive chick magnetism right here in the alleyway.

James Bond: Oh...very well!!

(He snaps his fingers and 5 gorgeous, scantily-clad women run into the alleyway, wrapping their limbs around his body in ways that cannot be specifically described on a PG blog.)

James Bond: Satisfied?

Wino 1: No, no, no, no man! I'm mean, think about it. How do we know you aren't just Arthur Fonzarelli, pretending to be James Bond?

Wino 2: Excellent point, dude!

(The two gentlemen of limited means exchange high-fives.)

James Bond: All right!! All right. I have a foolproof method of proving that I am, in fact, James Bond.

Wino 1: Sounds good to me.

Wino 2: Shoot away, dude!

(Bond does, fatally wounding both gentlemen of...oh, we'll just come out and say it, Ripplely-challenged men!)

James Bond: Licenced to kill, you see.

Wino 1: That's... definitely... Bond, man. (He gasps and dies.)

Wino 2: Dude! (He gives the "I love you" sign and expires.)

James Bond: (Sighs) That's the third time today.

(Bond and the scantily-clad ladies run down the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.)



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