Spiderstu's World

When was the moment? Well that’s a good question; I suppose it’s an important one too. But the moment I knew I had to do some thing was last week. All my life, I’ve wanted one thing, to be a writer, a screenwriter to be more precise. When I was a kid I’d sit around watching movies. Not the normal types of films that kids watch like the latest Disney blockbuster about some cute animal that lost its parents or Miramax’s latest film about a chimp that plays baseball, but what I suppose most people would call proper cinema.
Let me put it this way, when I was 9 years old we had to write a short essay about our favourite film, kind of like a book report but about a film. I’m sure that when the teacher set this assignment he was expecting a small pile of A4 sheets of paper about how “superman is the coolest cos he can fly and shoots lasers from his eyes!” So I do understand his overreaction when he read mine. In hindsight I suppose a 5-page analysis of Apocalypse Now might have been a bit over zealous for a 9 year old.
I’d been to university and gotten myself a degree in filmmaking and screenwriting. And after leaving I got myself a few jobs writing film reviews for local papers. It wasn’t enthralling but it paid the bills. The most important aspect was that it wasn’t nine to five, which gave me time to work on screenplays. I’d write them and send them off to the BBC, ITV, film companies pretty much anyone who’d read it and might be able to do something with it.
So I’ve got this friend I went to uni with, he went the other way, into acting. He’s managed to get his face about a bit, he’d done an episode of the Bill playing this weeks criminal. But most recently he’s got a part in a Hollywood film that’s filming at pinewood studios. Only a few lines mind, but still enough to get your name on IMDB and make a few contacts. He gives me a call and tells me that there are a lot of big names on the set and he’s getting quite friendly with some of them. He asks me “Do you want me to see if I can get one of your scripts into the right set of hands?”
Is he kidding? Is he fucking kidding? I hang up and email him my most golden script. 90 pages of sheer ingenuity. This script is my baby, I’ve worked on it for years now and it is in prime condition. I know that they only have to read this thing and it’s going to get made. Fuck it it’s going to make me! Ok so maybe you think I’m being a bit overconfident, big headed maybe? Well I’ll tell you something, there’s pretty much fuck all I can do well in this world, but when it comes to scriptwriting I’m brilliant. It was what I was put on this earth to do, and I don’t just feel it I know it!
A day later I get a call from my acting friend, he tells me he managed to get it to a producer. He’s not Harvey Weinstein, but he has pull none the less, he told my friend that he’s read it and get back to me if he likes what he sees. Despite my haughtiness about my script, the nerves still come, I can’t fight them back. I spent the next two days being privy to an argument between the voice in my head that hates me and wants me to fail and the voice that idolises me and will fight to the death to defend my honour. The phone rings over and over again, if it’s not who I want to hear I make an excuse and hang up, I can’t talk make plans with friends or make Smalltalk at a time like this. Of course I start to face the fact that my call isn’t going to come, so I try to prepare myself for the boring calls, the calls that don’t bring with them the job offer of a lifetime. The calls that are shit!
It rings. I don’t recognise the number. If this is someone cold calling they’re getting the full brunt of my wrath, they may not know it but they’re toying with my emotions and they will have to pay. I realise I’m just staring at the phone and quickly answer. It’s him, the film producer. He likes it! He fucking likes my script. I start to give myself a mental pep talk. Wait a minute got to focus; they’ll be time to digest it later. I can’t risk thinking too much and missing something then coming off as stupid or ignorant. I ask him if wants to arrange a meeting to discuss the script. Ok maybe that was a bit forward, he’s only said he likes it, he’s the guy that should be arranging meetings not me! Ah fuck it, I tell myself, I took a calculated risk, it’ll come off as eager. “Sounds great.” YES!
“Great when do you want me to come in?” He tells me that he’s going to be up and down the country for the next month then he’s flying back to the states. He’s in my neck of the wood on Thursday, would it be ok if we could have the meeting at my place? The first thing I think of isn’t saying yes and arranging the smaller details, it’s of Ezekiel. My housemate. I haven’t said a thing, it must have been a full ten seconds now. “Are you still there buddy?”
Shit I need to think, I need to way up the pros and cons in milliseconds, how the fuck do I do that. No wait I need to say something anything. “YO! Buddy, can you hear me?” Say something damn it, anything, the first thing that comes into your head.
“Yeah that’s fine by me.” Oh fuck it. He tells me that he can get my address and all my contact details from my acting friend, and he’ll see me at eight thirty on Thursday. Then he’s gone before I fully understand what I’ve just said.
It’s three days till Thursday, I’ve got so much to prepare. The house has to be cleaned; I need to make a good impression. I need to try and talk to Ezekiel. In between cleaning and swatting up on my script and mentally preparing my pitch, I talk to him. Probably somewhere around six or seven times a day, I never get the same response. In the end I consort to briary. Not pay me a million Mr Hasslehoff or I send these pictures of you wearing PVC to the sun type of bribery, but more along the lines of dangling a carrot in front of donkey to make it walk further.
Ezekiel loves Tom Seleck, I don’t get it either! I figure that if I buy the Magnum PI box set and Three Men and a Little Lady, give them to him at eight ‘o’ clock that’ll keep him busy till after the meeting. It might not be fool proof but it’s all I’ve got.
Its Thursday it’s seven thirty and Ezekiel’s hardly come out of his room all day. If he has it’s been to get a block a cheese and return to his room. This is a good sign. I figure I’ll take him the DVDs early. I knock on the door. No answer. I go in anyway and the door is slammed and I’m pushed back to the wall. The door opens slowly and Ezekiel’s face peeks out of the crack between the door and the frame. He say’s nothing but looks and me then down at the DVDs and again at me then again at the Tom Seleck collection. He snatches them from me and the door slams shut.
It’s eight thirty now and everything is set. I can hear the Magnum PI theme tune ringing out of Ezekiel’s room. The doorbell goes. I open the door and show him in. He’s not like I expected. Doesn’t look like a big time producer at all. But his face is friendly and he looks excited to be here.
We talk for an hour about the script; he likes my take on the script. This couldn’t have gone better if I tried. It’s just when were getting to the good stuff about an offer maybe to buy the script, or a maybe he’s about to tell me who he wants to sign for the lead role. When I hear it. Footsteps. The door from upstairs swings open. Ezekiel is standing there. I only focus on his top half. He’s wearing a very slick suit, his hair is slicked back and he’s smoking a cigarette. I look at the producer and he’s not looking at his top half. He’s looking at Ezekiel’s crotch. Maybe because he wasn’t wearing anything on his bottom half.
He sits down next to the guy who’s going to make my dreams come true. I decide to act like it’s normal and just introduce him, maybe I can still salvage this.
“This is my House mate Ezekiel.” Ezekiel turns his head the way an aristocrat might and looks him up and down. Even if a little reluctant and confused the producer introduces himself and holds out his hand for Ezekiel to shake. Ezekiel digs his finger into his nostril and scrapes out a huge lump of snot, you can’t even see his finger nail. I watch in disbelief, too shocked to act or say anything as Ezekiel sticks his finger straight into the producer’s mouth. So far that he’s kissing Ezekiel’s knuckle. There’s a lot of shouting and things are said, and just as quickly as the phone call he’s gone.
So yeah that was the moment I knew I couldn’t cope with him anymore. But I don’t want you to think I’m offloading him or anything like that. I think you need to understand the relationship I have with Ezekiel so you can see this is the hardest decision of my life. I think I need to take you right back to the start.