Saturday, April 04, 2015
Dream Factory
After the previous night, when both Rip and Caroline actually
left him, Hobie proved scattered in the important scene,
dropping a drink when he toasted the end of the Interstellar War.
But the Polish director wouldn’t reshoot. “Good! Stupido!
Ev-body stupido!”
Also his metallic pants made his rectum itch so, he cried.
“Good! Cry. Is happy time, so cry because!”
Hobie finally got to Dr Rolski, the studio’s European Publicist,
in town to translate in this shipwreck of a production.
“After I graduated from Krakow and signed on here, they told
me Dream Factory, which I correctly translated to Bullshit Factory!
Anyway, I can’t say anything to the director, who belongs in an
institution, American OR Polish. Better, American, since
his English is better than his Polish.
Hobie sunk back into the sofa in Rolski’s cluttered Winnebago.
“In English, Polish, French or German, my life is flying apart!”
“Join the club!”
Labels: bisexual, breakup, director, Dream Factory, European, Hollywood, Polish, shipwreck
