#howard moon/dennis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tcm · 4 years ago

Text

Interview with Richard Benjamin on Making Comedy Look Easy in MY FAVORITE YEAR (’82) By Donald Leibenson

To hear Richard Benjamin tell it, MY FAVORITE YEAR was a charmed production. For his first film as a director, he had been looking for a comedy (“I’m just kind of bent that way,” he jokes) and the stars aligned to bring him a script that, he says, was everything he knew. He had Mel Brooks as the film’s guardian angel. He had a bona-fide movie star that his wife, Paula Prentiss, recommended after another actor regretfully declined the film’s plum role. And he heeded Carl Reiner, who gave him succinct advice about making a comedy: “Get funny people.”

Which he did. The film is character actor heaven, with Joseph Bologna, Anne de Salvo, Selma Diamond, Adolph Green, Basil Hoffman, Lainie Kazan and Bill Macy.

MY FAVORITE YEAR is set in the mid-1950s when television was live and comedy was king. Mark Linn-Baker stars as Benjy Stone, a young comedy writer on a variety show reminiscent of Your Show of Shows, where he ardently pursues the show’s not-amused production assistant (Jessica Harper). During one life-changing week, he is assigned to chaperone the show’s guest star, his idol, former swashbuckling screen hero, Alan Swann (Peter O’Toole in an Oscar-nominated performance), who has a penchant for drink, womanizing and otherwise behaving badly.

Benjamin spoke with TCM about casting O’Toole, trying to pin down Mel Brooks and why you should never end a comedy in a graveyard.

To quote Alan Swann’s great line, dying is easy, comedy is hard. With MY FAVORITE YEAR, you make it look so easy. How did the project come to you?

Paula and I were in New York. My agent, David Gersh, sent the script by Norman [Steinberg] and Dennis [Palumbo, credited as co-writer due to the Screen Writers Guild arbitration]. I remember reading it in the hotel room and as I finished, I said, ‘This is everything I know.’ I was in high school when Your Show of Shows was on. I would get on the phone with my friend Shelley Berger, who I am still close to, and we would do all these routines they had done on the show on Saturday night. I grew up loving Errol Flynn and those swashbuckling movies. I had also worked at 30 Rockefeller Plaza [the film’s setting] as an NBC page and guide, and I knew every inch of that place. [The script] was right up my alley, as they say.

Brooksfilms produced the film, and Mel Brooks was a writer on Your Show of Shows. Did he serve as the film’s guardian angel or offer any input?

Guardian angel’s good. He kept saying he would give Norman and I two full days to sit down and go over the script to see if we could make it even funnier. The truth of the matter is that the script didn’t need much of anything, but he promised that. Trying to get Mel to stop moving is a feat. We went to his house, and he invited us in and then said he was going out. He said he had to walk the dog. Then he comes back, and he said he had to go, that there was a crisis at Fox. I said, ‘No there’s not,’ and he said, ‘Well, there could be.’ So, what he ended up giving us was two hours, but it was a great two hours. And the next thing you know, he was gone.

But Norman and I came up with one of the best jokes in the movie while we were standing in his driveway watching him drive away. It’s the one where Swann falls off the roof and plummets past the two elitist guys. And one says, ‘I think Alan Swann’s beneath us,’ and the other guy says, ‘Of course he’s beneath us, he’s an actor.’

I cannot imagine anyone but Peter O’Toole as Alan Swann. Was he the first choice?

Albert Finney had been offered the role, but he had not committed. He was up in Sausalito making SHOOT THE MOON [’82]. They told me I had to go up there and convince him to do the film; otherwise they couldn’t make the movie. The list of people M-G-M would go with was very short, because who are you going to believe with a sword in their hands? So, I’m on this mission, because if he says yes, I’m going to get to make a movie. We arranged to have lunch together. He’s completely charming. I get ready to ask the question – which could change my life, by the way: ‘Will you do it?’ He said, ‘Well…,’ and I could tell it was going to be a no. He thought the script was really good, but he had done two or three movies in a row and he said he wanted to get back to the theater. Then he said to me, ‘Why don’t you get O’Toole?’ He said, ‘We do this all the time. I turn something down, he does it, he turns something down, I do it.’ When I got back home, Paula who had made WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT? [’65] with Peter, said, ‘Get Peter. He is perfect for this.’ Finney said it, Paula said it. And I asked [co-producer] Michael Gruskoff if M-G-M would make the film with O’Toole, and Michael said yes.

What was the meeting with Peter like?

(Laughs) That meeting! That meeting was quite something. First of all, we couldn’t find him. We could tell we had the right person because the behavior was just like the character. He had a farm in Ireland with no phone. You had to call this pub to get a message to him. I called the pub and they said Peter wasn’t there. His agent didn’t know where he was. I called his manager and said, ‘We’re trying to find your client.’ He said, ‘He’s at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. He’s been here for a week.’

So, I’m actually talking to Peter O’Toole, and he said he had heard about the project and to send him a script and we would get together the next day. I go over and there he is in a beautiful suite wearing a smoking jacket; he is the character. He said, ‘Here’s the thing…’ and I thought, ‘Here we go again.’ He said he liked it very much, but he hadn’t read the last ten pages and to please indulge him and he would call tomorrow. The next day, on the dot, he called and he said to turn to the last page of the script.

Now, in the original script, there’s a scene which I shot that would have played after what’s in the movie. It took place in a Hollywood cemetery, and Benjy is walking past the gravestones. He says in voiceover that Alan Swann made him promise he would do something on his birthday every year. Alan has passed away, and Benjy comes to his grave, kneels down and pours a bottle of Courvoisier over the tombstone. That’s what’s on the last page. Peter asked me to read the date that was on the tombstone. It was Aug. 2. He said, ‘Aug. 2 is my birthday; did you know that?’ I asked Norman if he knew that, and Norman said no, he had made it up. And Peter says, ‘Therefore, I must do the film.’

What happened to that scene?

I was terribly reluctant to take that out because Peter did the movie because of it. But people at M-G-M said I couldn’t end a comedy in a cemetery. We had two audience screenings, one with that ending and one without it. In the screening with it, the audience enjoyed the picture, but the scene put a pall over things. Then we had the screening without it and the audience was very enthusiastic and very up as they came out.

How did you find Mark Linn-Baker?

Our casting director Ellen Chenoweth said the first person to get was Mark Linn-Baker. Mark came in and read and was terrific. I said, ‘This is my first movie, I can’t cast the first person who walks in here.’ I saw maybe 25 to 35 more—some really good people—but she was right, so after all of that, I said to get him.

Peter and Mark had great chemistry.

They seemed to hit it off right away, but later, back in L.A. after we shot the long scene on the roof, which played like a mini-farce, Peter came up to me and said, ‘I like the lad, you cast him well.’

Was Peter game for the physical stunts?

I couldn’t stop him from doing them! The bathroom scene required him to fall headfirst into the wall. I came to him before we shot and I said, ‘The camera is so close, I can’t pad this wall.’ He said, ‘I was brought up in music hall. I can do this all day. Don’t concern yourself.’

Director Howard Hawks once said that a good movie was three or four good scenes and no bad scenes. I lose count watching MY FAVORITE YEAR of how many great scenes there are in it. Between those driven by comic banter, the TV sketches, the physical comedy scenes, the quieter romantic scenes and even the dramatic confrontations, did you have a favorite type to direct?

I can’t say there was a favorite. It’s all of a piece. I will tell you that one of the scenes I like is in the Stork Club and getting to do something that reminded me of all these kinds of wonderful comic movies I loved growing up. I do remember that one of the first things we shot was the scene in Central Park where Alan Swann mounts the horse. It just seemed to lack energy. And I was thinking, ‘I have to go tell Peter O’Toole that he has to pick up the pace and it has to be lighter.’ I went up to him and said, ‘It’s good, but…’ and before I could finish, he said, ‘You want it faster and funnier.’ I said, ‘You’ve got it,’ and he said, ‘And you shall have it.’ And I thought, ‘This directing thing is not so hard.’ (laughs)

Were there directors you worked with as an actor who particularly inspired you when you became a director? For example, you worked with one of the best, Mike Nichols.

Mike, yes. He directed me in the national company of Barefoot in the Park and [the film] CATCH-22 [’70]. Mike’s thing was he’d come up to you very quietly and say, ‘Just like in real life.’ That was his main thing. It meant that there should be no ‘acting’ here; your character responds to situations as they would in life. It’s like what [critic] Walter Kerr once said about Neil Simon’s jokes: They have the truth in them. This is what funny people know: You can’t try to get a laugh, because you won’t get it.

At one point, Alan Swann says that doing the TV show was the most fun and the hardest work since the world was young. Was that what making MY FAVORITE YEAR was like for you?

It was the most fun, there’s no question of that. It was a magical experience because of the screenplay and everyone involved. Everyone’s game came up because of Peter. You don’t need many takes with him, that’s for sure. But how all of this came about and got to the point where I would be offered this, and what has to happen in your life to come to that moment – you can’t make it up. And when that moment comes, you’re hopefully ready. I was really fortunate.

#Interview #Richard Benjamin #peter o'toole #Mel Brooks #comedy #old hollywood #new hollywood #cinema #Donald Leibenson

78 notes · View notes

failingfae · 4 years ago

Text

So IDK if this is a challenge yet or not but either way may I present the...

Townie Baby Challenge

Using a matriarch (or any sim that can get pregnant) try to have a baby with every single pre made townie in the game and raise those children to adulthood without them dying or being taken away. As more packs come out more townies and babies will be had.

Rules

Must have at least 1 baby with every pre made sim. This doesn’t count sims from the trailer on the gallery that gurus or maxis post. These sims must be already in the world and in everyone’s game.

Cheats can be used to change pregnancy ability of different sims.

Must start with average funds and build up house from there.

Cannot have a baby with the same sim twice.

Cannot marry until matriarch becomes and elder.

If child dies or is taken away, another baby with that child’s parent is needed. (If you have twins and one dies no need to do this).

Matriarch cannot get a job.

Toddlers must get all skills to level 3 to age up.

Children must get two skills to level 5 and get an A in school.

Teens must get an A in school and have two skills at level 5.

Skills should relate to parents traits. (Parents from a certain pack’s children should have skills from that pack).

Must wait until underage sims age up to young adult to have a baby with them.

If matriarch dies before finishing this then youngest daughter (or impregnable child) completes the challenge.

Townies currently to woohoo

(As more packs come out and townies added this will update)(* indicates underage)

Mortimer Goth

Bella Goth

Cassandra Goth*

Alexander Goth*

Olivia Spencer-Kim-Lewis*

Vivian Lewis

Alice Spencer-Kim

Eric Lewis

Dennis Kim

Bob Pancakes

Eliza Pancakes

Travis Scott

Liberty Lee

Summer Holiday

Geoffrey Landgraab

Nancy Landgraab

Malcolm Landgraab*

Johnny Zest

Katrina Caliente

Dina Caliente

Nina Caliente

Don Lothario

Zoe Patel

Mitchell Kalani

J Huntington III

Gavin Richards

Dominic Fyres

Moira Fyres

Siobhan Fyres

Morgan Fyres*

Mila Munch

Gunther Munch

Wolfgang Much*

Lucas Munch*

Maaike Haas

Ulrike Faust

Candy Behr

Yuki Behr*

Marcus Flex

Paolo Rocca

Eva Capricciosa

Jade Rosa

Bjorn Bjergsen

Clara Bjergsen

Sofia Bjergsen*

Elsa Bjergsen*

Joaquin Le Chien

Sergio Romeo

Luna Villareal*

Jacques Villareal

Hugo Villareal*

Max Villareal*

Geeta Rasoya

Raj Rasoya

Arun Bheeda

Jesminder Bheeda

Penny Pizzaz

Akira Kibo

Miko Ojo

Darling Walsh*

Salim Benali

Baako Jang

Anaya Jang

Billie Jang*

Lily Feng

Victor Feng

Diego Lobo

Vladislav Straud

Caleb Vatore

Lilith Vatore

Supriya Delgato

Justin Delgato

Pierce Delgato*

Evie Delgato*

Brant Hecking

Brent Hecking

Catarina Lynx

Vanessa Jeong

Octavia Moon

Thorne Bailey

Orange Bailey-Moon*

Judith Ward

Holly Alto

Baby Ariel*

Dustin Broke

Brytani Cho

Dirk Dreamer

Izzy Fabulous

Kayla Fleming

Jess Sigworth

Dylan Sigworth

Christie Sigworth*

George Cahill

Ted Roswell

Meredith Roswell

Mark Eggleston

Alice Martin

Leslie Howard

Erwin Pries

Keala Hoapil

Lia Hauata

Makoa Kealoha

Lilliana Kealoha

Nani Kealoha*

Duane Talla*

Alika Kahananui

Mele Kahananui

Oliana Ngata

Tane Ngata*

Leila Illes

Ukupanipo Hekekia

Kalamainu’u Iona

Nalani Mahi’a

Paka’a Uha

Minerva Charm

Darrel Charm

Gemma Charm*

Emilia Ernest

Grace Anasi

Tomax Collette

Morgyn Ember

Simeon Silversweater

L. Faba

Cameron Fletcher

Ekram Elderberry

Eleanore Elderberry

Rohan Elderberry*

Lilith Pleasant

Angelica Pleasant

Julia Wright

Becca Clarke

Serena Bharmra

Jing Fen

Thomas Jabari

Lana McKinnon

Felix Psyded

Cletus Harris

Francine Spencer

Faye Harris

Jeb Harris*

Gideon Harris*

Blossom Greenburg

Mary Greenburg

Knox Greenburg

Bess Sterling

Jules Rico

Tina Tinker

Yasemin Tinker

Olive Tinker*

Jenna Akiyama

Kado Akiyama

Miki Akiyama*

Taku Akiyama*

Kiyoshi Ito*

Megumi Ito

Nanami Ito*

Naoki Ito

Kaori Nishidake*

Sachiko Nishidake

Shigeru Nishidake

(There’s a few optional sims from the gallery if you so choose)

CC is allowed and so are pregnancy mods but no money cheats

#sims 4 challenge #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 save file #sims 4 gameplay #simblr #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 edit #sims 4 download

65 notes · View notes

rockislandadultreads · 4 years ago

Photo

A History of the Stars: books to read

The Human Cosmos: A Secret History of the Stars by Jo Marchant

For at least 20,000 years, we have led not just an earthly existence but a cosmic one. Celestial cycles drove every aspect of our daily lives. Our innate relationship with the stars shaped who we are--our art, religious beliefs, social status, scientific advances, and even our biology. But over the last few centuries we have separated ourselves from the universe that surrounds us. It's a disconnect with a dire cost. Our relationship to the stars and planets has moved from one of awe, wonder and superstition to one where technology is king--the cosmos is now explored through data on our screens, not by the naked eye observing the natural world. Indeed, in most countries modern light pollution obscures much of the night sky from view. Jo Marchant's spellbinding parade of the ways different cultures celebrated the majesty and mysteries of the night sky is a journey to the most awe inspiring view you can ever see--looking up on a clear dark night. That experience and the thoughts it has engendered have radically shaped human civilization across millennia. The cosmos is the source of our greatest creativity in art, in science, in life. To show us how, Jo Marchant takes us to the Hall of the Bulls in the caves at Lascaux in France, and to the summer solstice at a 5,000-year-old tomb at New Grange in England. We discover Chumash cosmology and visit medieval monks grappling with the nature of time and Tahitian sailors navigating by the stars. We discover how light reveals the chemical composition of the sun, and we are with Einstein as he works out that space and time are one and the same. A four-billion-year-old meteor inspires a search for extraterrestrial life. The cosmically liberating, summary revelation is that star-gazing made us human.

First Light: Switching on Stars at the Dawn of Time by Emma Chapman

Astronomers have successfully observed a great deal of the Universe's history, from recording the afterglow of the Big Bang to imaging thousands of galaxies, and even to visualising an actual black hole. There's a lot for astronomers to be smug about. But when it comes to understanding how the Universe began and grew up we are literally in the dark ages. In effect, we are missing the first one billion years from the timeline of the Universe. This brief but far-reaching period in the Universe's history, known to astrophysicists as the 'Epoch of Reionisation', represents the start of the cosmos as we experience it today. The time when the very first stars burst into life, when darkness gave way to light. After hundreds of millions of years of dark, uneventful expansion, one by the one these stars suddenly came into being. This was the point at which the chaos of the Big Bang first began to yield to the order of galaxies, black holes and stars, kick-starting the pathway to planets, to comets, to moons, and to life itself. Incorporating the very latest research into this branch of astrophysics, this book sheds light on this time of darkness, telling the story of these first stars, hundreds of times the size of the Sun and a million times brighter, lonely giants that lived fast and died young in powerful explosions that seeded the Universe with the heavy elements that we are made of. Emma Chapman tells us how these stars formed, why they were so unusual, and what they can teach us about the Universe today. She also offers a first-hand look at the immense telescopes about to come on line to peer into the past, searching for the echoes and footprints of these stars, to take this period in the Universe's history from the realm of theoretical physics towards the wonder of observational astronomy.

Gravity's Engines: How Bubble-Blowing Black Holes Rule Galaxies, Stars, and Life in the Cosmos by Caleb Scharf

We've long understood black holes to be the points at which the universe as we know it comes to an end. Often billions of times more massive than the Sun, they lurk in the inner sanctum of almost every galaxy of stars in the universe. They're mysterious chasms so destructive and unforgiving that not even light can escape their deadly wrath. Recent research, however, has led to a cascade of new discoveries that have revealed an entirely different side to black holes. As the astrophysicist Caleb Scharf reveals in Gravity's Engines, these chasms in space-time don't just vacuum up everything that comes near them; they also spit out huge beams and clouds of matter. Black holes blow bubbles. With clarity and keen intellect, Scharf masterfully explains how these bubbles profoundly rearrange the cosmos around them. Engaging with our deepest questions about the universe, he takes us on an intimate journey through the endlessly colorful place we call our galaxy and reminds us that the Milky Way sits in a special place in the cosmic zoo—a "sweet spot" of properties. Is it coincidental that we find ourselves here at this place and time? Could there be a deeper connection between the nature of black holes and their role in the universe and the phenomenon of life? We are, after all, made of the stuff of stars.

Backyard Guide to the Night Sky by Howard Schneider, Dennis Mammana, Sandy Wood (Foreword by)

Stargazing’s too much fun to leave to astronomers, but often we’re blinded by science—dry facts can easily turn enchantment into a chore. We just want to lie down, look up, and understand the heavens above. The National Geographic Backyard Guide to the Night Sky shows us how. Authors Howard Schneider and Patricia Daniels take an expert but easygoing approach that doesn’t overwhelm—it invites. Ten chapters cover everything a beginning stargazer will need to know, from understanding the phases of the moon to picking Mars out of a planetary lineup to identifying the kinds of stars twinkling in the constellations. Throughout the book, star charts and tables present key facts in an easy-to-understand format, sidebars and fact boxes present illuminating anecdotes and fun facts to sweep us swiftly into the stardust, and by the time we realize we’ve been schooled in solid science we’re too engrossed to object. Along with practical advice and hands-on tips to improve observation techniques, the guide includes an appendix full of resources—from books and web sites to lists of astronomy clubs and associations to local planetariums and museums. This indispensable book guides us on a new path into the night sky, truly one of the greatest shows on Earth.

#science #non-fiction #nonfiction #nonfiction books #science books #book recs #tbr #Astronomy #galaxy #the stars #math #reading recommendations #recommended reading #booklr #book list #library #currently reading

35 notes · View notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 6 years ago

Text

Mistletoe Threeway

Author: Easilyled & Accio_arse

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howard/Dennis

“Why are you looking at me that way, Howard?” Vince was stood behind the counter of the Nabootique, leaning on it nonchalantly and picking at the voluminous sleeve of his diaphanous, vaguely ethnic smock, as if there weren’t a ball of mistletoe floating in the air above his head. “I’m not looking at you, am I?” Howard snapped mildly. “I’m looking at the thing above your head. What’s that about?” “It’s genius, isn’t it?” Vince enthused. “Basically, it’s mistletoe specially treated with anti-hairspray. The chemicals in the treated mistletoe simultaneously attract and repel the chemicals in the hairspray – sold separately – and create a sort of powerful festive force field. They’re like two magnets, yeah? Or like the moon held in the earth’s gravitational embrace.” Vince embraced the air to demonstrate, his eyes closed and his pursed-lipped face a mask of serene bliss. Howard tried to keep his own face blank, but couldn’t quite suppress a tic of a twitch affecting the entire right side of his face. He automatically swatted at it, like a fly, making Vince assume an expression of horror, which Howard feigned not to see. “And the point of that is?” he asked. Vince took his cue from Howard and ignored his friend’s symptoms of imminent mental breakdown. “What do you mean, what’s the point? It’s to fit in as much kissing during Chrimbo as possible!” “It’s called a hat and wire.” “Where’s your Vision, Howard?” “Occupied with more important things.” “Oh yeah, like what?” “Like creating an utopic society based on the model of Stationery Village. Lester Corncrake has already agreed to join.” “Lester Corncrake is a Disembodied Head.” “And so will we all be in Stationery Republic, Vince. It’s about getting past the body. Just… moving past it. Like an undertaker in the night.” “Okay, that went in so many creepy directions, I don’t even know where to begin. Anyway, the Airborne Mistletoe is part of my line.” “Your ‘line’? You have a ‘line’ now?” “’Course I do. The Vince Noir Futuristic Traditions Line.” Howard quirked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty good, actually,” he half-muttered into his mustache. “Thought so.” “It’ll never sell though,” Howard pronounced, poking the floating mistletoe experimentally with a pencil, wearing a little tight smile of triumph that was somewhat unpleasant to see. “Easy, you off-sale Scroogist. Why not? Who doesn’t like kissing?” “That much kissing? With randoms off the street? Street-randoms? The thing’s a death-magnet.” He gave it another, more aggressive poke before Vince could duck away. “Especially at this time of year. Imagine the germs!” “You imagine the germs! And touch my line again –” “Touch your what now?” “- an’ I’ll obliviate you.” “Oh yeah? That sounds serious, sir.” “Maybe it is. So you’d better just… watch yourself. In case.” Howard shook his head, arms akimbo, eyes lit up strangely as he continued to stare at Vince’s tiny holidaytastic satellite. “It’s nothing but an invitation to pneumonia.” “Well it’s definitely not an invitation to you.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah. And your poking.” “Just don’t come crying to me, squealing like a hungry piglet – “Ooooooh, where’s Mama Sow’s sweet gushing nipple –” Vince gagged audibly, which Howard ignored. “– when your wanton, derelict kissing –” “Derelict kissing!?” “- when it lands you in the hospital, with a machine, a thing of metal and… dials, doing your breathing for you.” “Slow down there, Mama Sow! Don’t start composing me eulogy yet. This is not for me, is it? I’m just using it to demonstrate.” “To demonstrate what?” “The – product!” Secretly gleeful that Vince had meandered into his trap, Howard made a sweeping gesture with his arm indicating Vince’s form, which was clearly visible (almost audible, Howard thought) in the inadequate covering of a loose smock, as flimsy as a sigh, over his clinging silver jumpsuit. “And what exactly is the product?” The door opened then with a tingle of shop-bells, heralding the arrival of a pretty young woman with a brunette fringe, in a sunshine-yellow pea coat that made Vince forget Howard’s insinuation and brighten like a child handed a toy. “Alright?” he greeted her. Howard felt a sharp twinge of anxiety in his stomach as she instantly returned Vince’s grin. But then her smile faltered. “What’s – that over your head?” Howard grinned maniacally, waiting. But Vince didn’t miss a beat – he only smiled wider. “It’s Airborne Mistletoe. Follows you wherever you go. So you don’t have to take your chances, hoping to catch your Special Someone at the right moment.” Howard’s face fell faster than a shy soufflé as he saw that the girl was charmed. “That’s so romantic!” she cried. “Romantic!” Howard thundered before he could stop himself. “Romantic is… setting a trap! Following your beloved around! Don’t worry – I mean secretly! Learning their habits, like a predator in the wild. Deciding where to plant the mistletoe. Then waiting, lurking in the shadows, for them to walk by the spot – so you can pretend it’s a coincidence. If necessary, setting up a hammock, in case you have to wait in the spot a few days, and making a small or smallish fire, to cook your omelets. THAT, you know-nothing Camden mannequins, is ROMANTIC.” Howard paused for breath, while the girl looked at him as if deciding whether to scream. Vince watched her with concern. “Don’t mind him, yeah?” he said hurriedly, coming around the counter and taking her elbow gently. “He’s – practicing a part for a play. He’s playing a rapist stalker mentalist.” He shot Howard a look that was half-exasperated, half-pleading. “Tone down the mental, would you, Hamlet? You’re scaring the customers.” “You’re in a play?” The girl looked at Howard with new interest, and palpable relief. “You’re very good!” Howard simply snarled at her, making her jump and cling to Vince, who rolled his eyes and patted her back comfortingly. “Anyway. What do you think of my invention? It’s part of my new line – Futuristic Traditions.” Lost in the warm bubbly bath of Vince’s attention, the girl had forgotten Howard and his psychotic ranting already. She giggled and replied, “Well – I’d like to try it out first, before I commit myself.” “Huh? Oh, yeah! Sure.” Vince leaned in obligingly for the kiss. Howard watched, torn between disbelief and rage, as Vince launched himself at the girl’s face, nibbling expertly at her lips. And felt himself die slightly inside as he thought he caught Vince momentarily suck on her tongue – before the little tart slid it deep in Vince’s mouth. For months now, ever since his *coughcough* 32nd *cough* birthday, Howard had secretly been telling himself that even though the rest had been a lie, a desperate manoeuvre to keep the Head Shaman from ceremoniously decapitating him – that Vince couldn’t have sucked on his tongue that way without feeling some kind of attraction – of deep, powerful, molten attraction – for Howard. But of course – that was only the naïve impression of a virgin, wasn’t it? It was just a technique – like everything Vince did. Unique and flawless and designed to maximally please. And completely impersonal. Howard often wondered if Vince got any personal pleasure out of anything he did, or if his only pleasure consisted of pleasing others. Right now, however, he was causing Howard excruciating pain as he and the girl continued to snog endlessly, relentlessly, panting and slurping away, making Howard’s skin crawl even as his stomach contracted into a ball of angry jealousy as dense as a collapsed star. He might have lost his kissing virginity that night on the roof, but he was losing his illusions only now – those precious illusions he’d always been so afraid would go swirling down the putrid urinal of experience when the rest of it went. And then, as he continued to watch avidly as if their faces were the urinal and he was trying to catch in them the last traces of his illusions as they swirled down the dirty drain (or some such confused metaphor, Howard wasn’t thinking particularly clearly) Vince snuck a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. A glance that a neutral observer might have described as “opaque,” or perhaps, at a stretch, as seductive in its heavy-lidded haziness, but that Howard, who was far from neutral, instantly read as mischievous and mocking. And reacted, with the same instantaneousity, by charging at Vince and grabbing him by the smock, but unable to gain a purchase on that wisp of smoke, took him by the throat instead, and not only broke off the endless kiss, but shook the mistletoe creation out of its hold. It dropped to the floor with a decidedly unfestive thud, inert, and Howard shook Vince like a rag-doll while the girl shrieked, and Howard laughed, awfully. And Vince choked and stared at Howard with glassy disbelieving goggle-eyes, a squeak attempting to emerge from his throat and turn into a plea, but it was too late. “It’s too late!” Howard shouted, shattering his fantasy – and also the kiss taking place in front of him. “I’ll take it,” the girl told Vince when she’d caught her breath. “50 euros,” Vince replied, looking with concern at the stockroom, where Howard had disappeared, slamming the door behind him. He was inside giving himself discreet Chinese burns. * Howard wouldn’t come out no matter how often Vince knocked on the door during the day. Vince was left to handle the pre-Christmas rush by himself. He told Vince that he was reorganizing the stockroom to make its arrangement more logical – which was actually true, and very soothing. Vince’s sales figures were so good that Naboo let him off early. They closed up the shop and had champagne, then set off for a night on the town. Vince didn’t try to get Howard to come out again – he was angry at him by now. He didn’t know what had set Howard off that way, or what right Howard had to be upset. He’s the one who’d rejected Vince’s unspoken offer to go for the Mistletoe Threeway. Just because Howard was so fastidious was no reason to hurt his friend’s feelings that way. Everything had been crap between them, anyway, ever since The Roof. Everything they usually did suddenly turned Weird. The midnight crimping grew awkward – Howard had even suggested that they each get their own bedrooms (or more precisely, that Vince move into the cupboard). He pretended it was because Vince woke him up by always coming in late, but why weren’t the snail-shell earplugs Vince had made for him (at the cost of two snails’ homes) good enough for that anymore? And when Vince tried to bring things back to normal by suggesting a bout of satsuma-throwing in their vests and pants, Howard made excuses, saying that he needed to go round to Lester Corncrake’s and feed him. Like he was a chia pet. He’d rather spend time with a blind head than with Vince these days. “He’s right,” Vince said, biting his lip. “It’s too late.” “It only two a.m.!” Bollo replied, grooving on the dancefloor, where Vince had suddenly stopped moving. “Get with it, Vince.” And began to sing, “’But if my Daddy say I fine – No, no, no!’” He grabbed Vince by his delicate wrist and pulled him in close, grinding his generous ape-hips against Vince’s slender lady-man ones. “Show-off,” Vince thought. Back at the shop, Howard had finally gained the courage to emerge from the stockroom, and had managed to exhaust himself with obsessive-compulsive rearranging to the point where he thought he might be able to sleep. As he was stumbling his way to the stairwell, a towering figure stepped out of the shadows. Howard balked, catching the menacing glint of a sword, and the duller one of a bald head, in the softly glowing fairylights. “Howard Moon,” boomed Dennis, the Head Shaman. “Where’s your little boyfriend?” “Probably at the disco, pulling,” Howard grumbled. He was in no mood to pretend to be a gayist, or even coherent. And remembering Lester Corncrake’s fate made him burn with indignation at this disgusting bully’s presence in his shop. “What do you want, sir?” To Howard’s surprise, Dennis lowered his eyes as if confused. Was that a rosy blush creeping into his cheeks, mingling with the blue and green of the fairylights? “Is the blind mental around? I feel slightly sheepish for what I did to him.” “Lester Corncrake’s Head is at home, sir, sleeping. As you should be.” Was the bloody-minded Shaman Warrior fidgeting? “Wife threw me out,” he muttered at last. “Really?” Howard replied with heavy sarcasm. “You seemed so happy together. Is your plan to crash at Naboo’s, then? He’s out with Vince – but I suppose you can get into his flat using your magic, or sword, or however you got in here.” “They left the door unlocked.” “Oh. Fair enough.” Howard made a move towards the beaded curtain that separated the shop from the corridor, but Dennis grabbed his arm. “Wait!” Howard stiffened, and closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to fall. But Dennis released him. “I’m lonely. I need someone to talk to.” “Don’t you have any friends? Never mind,” Howard answered himself. He sighed, then fetched stools for both of them. “Got anything to drink?” Dennis asked eagerly, settling himself onto a stool. Howard knew now that he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. * Vince tried to be quiet as he entered his and Howard’s dark bedroom. The sky was lightening outside, but the blush of the sunrise hadn’t yet reached the tops of the surrounding buildings. He stripped off his jumpsuit, sweaty from the night of dancing, and tossed it on the floor with the others, then prepared to crawl into bed carefully. Howard didn’t like being touched – except sometimes, at night, he was up for a cuddle, after a long emotional bout of crimping. But lately Vince had thought it better not to risk it. Vince shrieked as his limbs unexpectedly encountered a meaty form on his side of the bed. He disentangled himself as quickly as he could, falling onto the floor. “Vince?” On the other side of the bed – Howard’s side – someone had sat up. Vince recognized Howard’s outline. “Howard! There’s someone sleeping in our bed!” “Yeah, I know that, Baby Bear.” Suddenly it dawned on Vince what was happening. He felt a perfect fool. “Howard! Did you -?” “What?” Howard shimmied to the end of the bed and climbed off. He came towards Vince. “Keep it down,” he told him. “It’s the Head Shaman.” “Howard!” Vince shrieked. Howard reflexively grabbed the back of Vince’s head and clamped a hand over his mouth. He was crouched in front of Vince – still in his clothes, which he’d worn to bed, while Vince was sprawled on the floor, legs out in front of him, propped up by his hands, naked. They always went to bed naked, but Howard hadn’t felt that was appropriate, or in fact safe, when the drunken Head Shaman had asked if he could sleep in Howard’s bed – especially after his comments about Howard’s pumpkin ass and questions about his waxing habits. Behind Howard’s hand, muffled laughter began to emerge from Vince. Howard looked severely into his friend’s bulbous eyes, which glistened with excited mischief in the dark room. “Will you be quiet now?” Howard asked, and removed his hand, rubbing it against his trousers to take the tickle away. He didn’t really want to hear anything Vince would say, but felt that staying that way looking at each other any longer involved an obscure danger. “Howard!” Vince whispered, still giggling under his breath. “You had it off with the Head Shaman?” “No!” Howard shouted. Dennis stirred on the bed and muttered in his sleep. “Methuselah – no! Not the squash racket!” “No,” Howard repeated, hissing it quietly and angrily this time. “He had an argument with his wife and came here. He got wasted and passed out.” “You mean – you’ve still not had it off then?” Vince asked, his face serious now. “Why would I let you know if I did?” Howard asked, aware that he sounded slightly sulky. “So you can put it on MySpace?” “I’d never do that, Howard.” Vince smiled at him, stroking his arm soothingly. Howard let him – it was the first time in months Howard had let him. “Really?” “Of course not. I’m on Facebook now. MySpace is for pensioners and Lily Allen fans.” But Howard could tell he was teasing, and couldn’t help smiling a little. And he didn’t push him away when Vince grasped his upper arms and pulled Howard towards him – and then they were kissing again, and Howard couldn’t believe it could be as good the second time as the first. Their mouths parted against each other, and Vince ran his tongue along the side of Howard’s – and suddenly the intrusive image of a bright yellow pea coat burst into Howard’s mind, like a blossoming migraine, and he pulled away. Vince opened his eyes, startled, and looked at Howard in bewilderment. There was light in the room now, and the pain in Howard’s eyes was so laceratingly clear Vince felt like he’d been slapped. “Go on. Why did you stop?” Vince and Howard started, and Howard turned his head. Dennis was sitting upright on the bed, facing them, arms folded, his sword resting across his lap. “Go on, I said. I want to see more of this. So you’re a virgin, are you, Moon? How… piquant. But it can’t be very easy on your boyfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend!” Howard nearly screamed in frustration. Dennis’s silver alien eyes narrowed and flitted from Howard to Vince. “So – you’re not in love?” “I am,” Vince said quickly. “I am, but he’s not.” “How can you say that?” Howard demanded. “I’m not the one who goes around kissing everyone I meet – and in exactly the same way!” “What are you talking about, you strap-on sushi kit?” “About the fact that there’s no passion – no soul – behind anything you do, Vince!” “I try to make people happy! I try to make you happy! And the thanks I get is you accusing me of having no soul?” “I want you to try to make me happier than you make other people – happy!” “If you could tell me what to do to not make you always angry that would be a start!” “I just did tell you!” “What? I’m lost.” “Enough arguing!” Dennis stood, gripping his sword. “I liked the kissing better. Do the kissing again.” “Are you some kind of pervert?” Vince asked him. “Yes,” Dennis replied. “A pervert with a very big sword.” “Point.” Vince cast his eyes downward, distressed. There was no escape. * “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted your first time to be,” Vince apologized to Howard, who was now naked as well, lying on the bed, on his back, with his knees bent, with Vince lying on top of him. Vince stared at the wall over Howard’s head, Howard at Vince’s small white shoulder. “Actually, I just wanted it to be a time,” Howard replied. Their eyes met briefly, and Howard attempted a reassuring smile. Instinctively, he planted an affectionate kiss on Vince’s shoulder, then lay his head back on the pillow. Vince bit his lip and his face dipped shyly, but he kept his eyes on Howard’s. “I’ll try to make it good.” “Don’t try!” Howard replied, with an edge of yearning in his voice that made Vince shiver with alertness. “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t always have to be the best and brightest with the biggest bounciest hair! Just – do what you feel, yeah?” “Start fucking!” Dennis barked. “Mate – why don’t you make yourself useful!” Vince snapped. Dennis took a step towards the bed. “Not like that! We could use a little something to – ease the process. Make a soft landing. Yeah?” “I’m not following you.” “Don’t play dumb, magic-boy. All extreme sports calendar models do anal. Everyone knows that.” “Oh! You want cooking oil!” “Exactly. Run to the kitchen, would you, love?” Dennis left the room reluctantly, watching them over his shoulder as he went. “Don’t do anything until I get back!” As soon as he was gone, Vince leapt out of the bed and locked the door, then leaned against it. Howard sat up and watched as Vince slid down the door, collapsing in front of it. When he was sat on the floor he pulled his skinny legs up to his chest and put his arms around them, his head back against the door, apparently scrutinizing the ceiling. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Howard nevertheless got out of bed and went to him. He knelt beside Vince and waited, but when Vince made no move to acknowledge him, Howard made the first move. “Alright, little man?” he asked tentatively, daring only to brush Vince’s hair off his shoulder. “I can’t do it, Howard!” Vince groaned, shaking his head in a pique, which made the hair immediately fall back in place. Automatically, Howard brushed it away again, slightly hypnotized, this time letting his fingers drag against the smooth, soft surface of the curve of Vince’s neck. “I don’t mind, honestly. It’s probably time to get it over with, isn’t it?” “I mean I can’t perform under this pressure!” He looked at Howard wildly. “You know about me and pressure! I expect perfection of myself, and what happens? I fold like a pup tent in a strong breeze! So to speak.” He cast his eyes down between his legs ashamedly. Howard smiled dreamily, now playing with Vince’s ear, his finger tracing its whorls. “You mean like that time at school when you were cast in the play?” “I was just playing a tree! All I had to do was stand there and hold me leaves up!” “Instead you panicked because you didn’t feel like you were doing enough, and started body-popping.” “For twenty minutes! I couldn’t figure out how to get off!” “The audience loved it, though. They cheered you on. I was playing the lead, but they all forgot about me. I had to abandon the speech I’d written especially for my character at a crucial moment in his trajectory.” “You mean when he loses his hat?” “The director always undersold the psychological ramifications of that incident.” “Yeah. I never apologized for that, did I, Howard?” “No. But it doesn’t matter. I’m a shit writer.” “Howard.” Vince turned to look at Howard, and took Howard’s face in his hand. Vince’s hand was surprisingly warm. Howard smiled at him, and reached over and took up his other hand. He brought it to his mouth and bit Vince’s knuckles lightly, still smiling, and then held it under his chin. “Why so serious? It’s not like you’re killing someone. And it’s not for real, is it? It’s just some pervert’s fantasy.” “I want it to be for real,” Vince said, holding Howard’s eyes. They both wanted to look away, and neither did. The moment was held too long – and then longer. And then it started to feel not strange, but right, and Howard’s face moved closer to Vince’s, and Vince’s hand snaked around from Howard’s face through his hair to the back of his neck, which was burningly hot. The door vibrated with Dennis’s pounding. “Did I miss anything? I made popcorn!” Vince stamped his foot on the floor. “This is never going to happen!” “Don’t make me teleport in there!” Dennis warned from the other side of the door. Howard stood, sighing, wincing as his joints creaked, and returned to the bed. He resumed the devirginization position and waited. “Vince?” Several minutes had passed, and Howard was starting to wonder what was going on, as well as getting cold. “I’m right here.” Vince appeared at the side of the bed so suddenly that Howard felt unnerved instead of relieved. Before he could process that feeling, however, Vince had climbed on top of him, in a strangely business-like manner. He examined Howard’s face closely and speculatively, as if it were a foreign object whose meaning he was trying to determine. “Vince?!” Howard asked again. “Right here! You’re a remarkably handsome man, you know.” “I am!? Oh. Yeah. ‘Course I am. You don’t need to tell Howard Moon that…. I was voted Total Hottie of 2007 by the Librarians Who Like Jazz Association. What happened to the Head Shaman?” “He probably got a call on his mobile from his wife.” “Oh… that makes sense.” “Now, Howard. I should fairly inform you that I’ve never done this before.” “You haven’t?” “I never even considered it before that night on the roof. But I’ve done a lot of deflowering of virgins in my time.” “You have!?” “This ought to be doubly pleasurable, seeing as how it’ll also be a defloration of myself.” “It will!?” “My manginity. Right. Let’s do this thing.” Vince’s lips against Howard’s were brutal, pressing down, smothering him. His tongue forced its way into Howard’s mouth, apparently searching out his tonsils. Howard wanted to protest, to push him away, overwhelmed, but his cock sprang up rebelliously, hardening against Vince’s. At last Vince pulled back. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Mmmmmm… good. You like it?” He grabbed Howard’s cock and pumped it in his hand, roughly. “Vince,” Howard panted, “I don’t mean to criticize, but… where’s the romance?” “I’ll send you flowers after, baby. If you suck my cock like a good little woman.” “NO!” Howard grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, onto the bed. He scrambled on top of Vince and held him down easily with his greater weight and strength, but their erections remained squished together in a hot damp mass, throbbing, as Howard tried to regain hold of his senses. Vince was laughing, his sweaty fringe in his eyes, his eyes glittering beneath, black locks splayed against the pillow. “What are you doing?” Howard demanded, trying to make it all make sense. “I don’t even know you!” Something in Howard’s tone brought Vince to calm, but a malevolent smirk soon crept onto his face, and his clearly-formed words cut deep into Howard. “But I know you. Cut the bullshit. You don’t want gentleness or tenderness. You want to be taken like a bitch. Now lie down like a good boy and let Daddy tie you up and take care of you.” Howard stared at him another moment in disbelief. Then a little whimper escaped his throat involuntarily, and slowly he nodded. “Yes, sir, Daddy, sir.” Howard lay on his back and raised his arms for Vince’s ministrations. He closed his eyes and sighed as he heard bedsheets being torn. Then felt the material, cool and strangely scratchy, against his wrists. “Tighter,” he instructed, frowning. “No more talking, dickhead,” Vince told him, and shoved a thumb up Howard’s arse, without preparation. After a moment, Howard pushed against it. It felt ridiculously painful, like someone had stuck a small fire up his bum. Wincing, he whispered, “Vince… is this it? Are we having sex?” Vince laughed back, harshly. Howard looked confused. “I just thought - since you’re inside me, and…” “Fool! Aren’t you ever going to shut up?” Using the flat of his hand, Vince slapped Howard hard across the face. At the same time, he used his thumb inside to punctuate every word with a violent motion up. At every dry stab, Howard shuddered. Vince changed tactics. With Howard’s tightness, the thumb had hardly broken through the first clench of muscles, even after several shoves. So Vince began a series of vicious twists, each time swivelling the thumb little further. It was soon wedged in far past the knuckle. Howard yelled in panic at the intrusion. His muscles went into spasm inside at the pain. He strained the bonds around his wrists – but the knots were firmly tight. His ankles were fixed down, too, bound to the bedposts – and he couldn’t even remember Vince doing that. “You virgins,” Vince snorted. “Always screaming and saying no! As if that doesn’t just heat my blood. Make me want to despoil you all the more.” Howard yelped. Every time he tried to struggle away, the thumb was just twisting and rubbing the more painfully. It was agony. Vince’s gaze flicked up and down Howard’s body, coming to rest Howard’s cock, still treacherously half-hard on his belly. Vince sneered in amusement. “Ha! You don’t fool me! I know what you really want. A man with a sword larger than a toddler’s leg. And who’s not afraid to use it.” Howard forced himself to calm. The pain wasn’t so bad if he stopped moving. He took in a shaky breath. “That’s better. Now you’ve got the right idea. Going to lie there and let Daddy get on with business?” “Vince…?” asked Howard, weakly. He searched for a grin, a cheeky look from his friend - anything to confirm this was still a game. Vince loomed silently over Howard. Behind the shadow of his fringe his eyes were dark and unknowable. Then very deliberately, Vince stuck out his tongue. In one swift motion he’d licked Howard’s face, up from the jawline across Howard’s cheek and across the red mark where Howard had been slapped. But he didn’t stop there. He continued up to Howard’s left eye socket. There he jammed in the tip of his tongue and swished it wetly around. Howard’s breath hitched. He’d shut both eyes before the tongue descended, but the exploration of his eyeball was still pretty unnerving. “Tasty,” said Vince. The tip of his tongue was just poking out as he licked it against his lips. “Very, very tasty. Virgin tears.” Howard blinked. His left eyelashes were weighed down with Vince’s spit. Vince’s face was still startlingly close. “So, you going to be a good boy for Daddy? Hmmm? Are you?” He leaned further in and whispered into Howard’s ear. His voice was strangely deep and resonant. “Because believe me, I’m not finished yet.” Howard’s eyes widened. That voice… fear chilled his skin. But this was Vince, wasn’t it? He could trust Vince. “I didn’t hear a yes,” warned Vince. He pushed his slim-hipped body onto Howard’s. Their hot cocks touched. Howard let out a moan. Before he could think, he was rocking his hips up, mashing their cocks together and working himself back to full hardness. “Y…yes… Yes sir. Please sir.” “Right decision, meathead.” Howard moaned once more – this time in pain. Vince had yanked his thumb straight out of Howard’s arse. It was even more intense than when Vince had forced the thumb in, like Howard’s innards were being dragged out backwards. “Now, first things first,“ announced Vince, sitting up straight, and starting to climb off Howard. As the emptiness in his arse throbbed to a memory, Vince’s warm body was leaving him too. Howard shivered with the loss of them both. But within seconds, something else was being shoved towards Howard, right in his face – the waving end of Vince’s cock. “Go on - suck me off, bitch.” Howard strained at his bonds, uselessly. “Vince – you know I… I’ve… never before…” “Yes, yes!” Vince replied, impatiently. “I know! Less talking, more sucking!” Vince’s cock shoved harder. It smeared moisture across Howard’s lips. “Come on! Open up!” barked Vince. Until recently, Howard had never even imagined this – sucking another man’s cock, or how it would taste and feel inside his mouth. But suddenly, it didn’t seem so wrong. Perhaps because the cock in question belonged to Vince. Ever since their kiss on the rooftop, he’d been looking at Vince in a brand new way. Stealing shameful glances at him - at the bulge Vince swung around, so obvious in those tight shiny jumpsuits. Lying in bed at night, wishing more than anything that Vince would come over and slip in for a cuddle. Vince had never needed an invite before – all it took was a couple of crimps, and he’d strip off and jump right in. Why had Vince stopped? So when Howard opened up his mouth, he didn’t question it as the erect cock slipped in quite naturally. And when he licked cautiously at the silken head and it gave a distinct leap in response, it almost felt like coming home. In fact, pride was filling his chest. Yes - he, Howard TJ Moon, had made Vince’s cock twitch with sheer sexual pleasure. Of course it had! For years he’d wasted his mighty sexual powers, his god-given magnetism. He’d frittered it away on self-abuse like throwing tadpoles in the wind. No longer would that happen – no, sir. Because now he had Vince. Howard opened wider, about to take Vince further in, right to the root. “Call that a blow job?” Vince grabbed a handful of Howard’s hair, forcing his head sharply up. Then Vince plunged aggressively, deeper into Howard’s throat. “I said suck! Not slobber like a toddler puffing into a balloon! Again!” Howard choked, gasping for air. “No! No! Not like that, either!” Howard gave a half-strangled slurp, his chest rising and falling, helpless as Vince thrust in and out. “Arrgh!” shouted Vince. “Mind the teeth!” Howard twisted away, trying desperately to escape. But Vince was holding his head in an iron grip. Eventually, after Howard had been spluttering and hacking over his cock for about a minute, Vince withdrew. He shoved Howard’s head away in disgust. “Useless! And your mouth showed such promise!” Howard flopped sideways to the pillow and exploded into a coughing fit. Saliva and a string of something stickier dribbled out the corner of his mouth, forming a wet, warm puddle underneath. Vince stood wide-legged by the bed, surveying Howard with his hands on his hips. His drool-smeared erection stuck out like a flagstaff. “Well,” he sneered, showing his teeth in a surprisingly wolfish leer. “It matters not.” He took up the Head Shaman’s sword and raised it above his head. An unearthly light glinted from its blade. The sword came down with a swish and snick. Pain shot through Howard’s legs. His tight ankle bonds had been hacked free by the sword’s blow. Howard brought his knees up and down again, stretching his legs out and revelling in the freedom. Pins and needles prickled inside his thighs. “Resume position!” barked Vince, flinging away the sword. It fell with a harsh clang against the wall. And jumping on top of Howard, Vince pinned him to the bed. As his aching limbs were forced double again, Howard felt that reality had melted and flown away. He’d always imagined sex would be a more purely physical affair – in-out-in-out, dirty fumbles and fluid spurting. Not like this. Like when Vince had been choking him with his cock. Howard had hated it, he’d been crying stupid, acrid tears of self-pity, and yet –oh God, he wanted it. It was foul, yet he knew he deserved every inch, and more. It was all too much. Howard pulled at the bindings on his wrists, wishing he could caress the forceful little body on top as it tried to stab him with his cock. Wth another pang of self-disgust, Howard realised that not being able to touch Vince was only making him all the more aroused. “Yes! Daddy’s on target!” shouted Vince, triumphantly. Howard lifted his hips and closed his eyes, trying to welcome the battering at his already-abused entrance. But the blunt head of Vince’s cock wouldn’t go in, no matter how many times Vince pushed and roared in frustration. Vince shoved a few more times, angrily. It achieved nothing except white-lipped whimpers from the tied-up man below. Throwing his head back, Vince laughed theatrically. “Aha! I knew it! Such a tight little virgin after all!” He looked around. “I believe something will be required… no, not the popcorn… perhaps for later on.” He leaned over and started rummaging on the floor by the bed. Howard looked down and was surprised to see a box of golden popcorn sitting on the ground. Next to that was a bottle of cooking oil, the very same brand that Bollo used to fry his eggs and bacon in - oh right, thought Howard. It must be the bottle from the kitchen. How had it got there? Perhaps the Head Shaman had magicked it or something before he’d gone off to answer his phone call. Vince straightened up. He unscrewed the bottle and tossed the top over his shoulder. It fell without sound into the darkness. Then stretching out his arm, Vince tipped the bottle up and poured the whole lot out in one go. It gave a noisy gurgle. Howard jumped. A stream of cold oil had hit him right on the cock and balls. The oil gushed further down and Howard arched his back. He parted his thighs wide as the coolness slid into his crack, trickling down and easing the itchy burning inside. He sighed in relief. The mattress below began to spawn two oily buttock-dimple lakes of overflow. Vince re-positioned himself. He grabbed Howard’s thighs hard. Angry marks sprung up beneath his fingers, flaring across Howard’s flesh. With the goal finally oiled and ready for piercing, Vince grit his teeth and tensed his buttocks. The head of Vince’s cock inched forward in a series of shoves. When it finally forced through the tight ring of muscles at Howard’s entrance, Vince let out a sharp breath of satisfaction. But then his cock stopped short, wedged fast. Vince gave a few short, frustrated bounces, all to no avail. “Blast to Hades’ codpiece! Out of oil!” Vince pulled out with a short, nasal grunt, took his cock in his hand, and rubbed it across Howard’s dangling balls, up and down like a chef rolling a shushi roll. Soon it was glistening with the oil trapped in Howard’s scrotal hairs. “Aha!” Vince preened. He cupped his length in his hands like a prize marrow oiled for ‘Best Novelty Vegetable’ at the local fair. He readied himself for re-entry. Howard felt the prodding at his entrance. He steeled himself again. This was it, he was going to get to have sex, to do it at least once before he died. And Vince was going to be his very first, perhaps his only... Howard thrust his hips up, trying to help the penetration. Or perhaps they’d already had sex. After all, Vince’s cock had had been inside him, if only for a second. At the thought of Vince’s cock inside him again, Howard wriggled his hips even more. His fingers strained, as if trying to touch something invisible and pull it closer. “Anything,” he panted. “Anything you want. Make me do things. Anything. I’ll do it.” Howard flushed. A memory flashed before him – of how disgusted Vince had been the first time he’d caught Howard in the cupboard, self-inducing his Chinese burns. And now this. How would he ever face Vince again? Howard turned his face to the side, and so he didn’t see the blow about to fall. Vince hit Howard’s face in exactly the same place he had the last time. The skin on Howard’s right cheekbone flared white, immediately flushing to an angry purple. “Of course you want me to use you!” shouted Vince. “I’m the best! Now keep still and let Daddy do his business!” Howard gasped – but not at the blow. The shock of the afterheat on his battered skin – it was arousing him even more. What sort of person got off on this? No wonder no one had ever wanted to have sex with him before. But Vince was already sinking his cock into Howard, deeply, and right up to the hilt. Howard had no time to do anything now but break into a slick, all-over-body sweat and scream. And with a deep, un-Vince-like roar, the man on top drew back and started to pound into Howard. Within seconds, Howard was being rammed up backwards against the wall. The crown of his head jammered each time Vince slammed in. Helplessly, Howard tried to push back against it with his tied hands. But it was useless. All he could do was try to ride it out, his arse afire with bizarre intensity. Then Vince grabbed Howard’s buttocks, lifting him higher. As the angle changed, colours pinged and exploded before Howard’s eyes. Heat prickled down the inside of his thighs. His toes curled. Howard threw his head back and stretched his mouth open wide. A thought wisped through his melting brain - this must be what pleasure feels like. Vince thrust in once more, slick and easy with oil. He hit the same spot all over again. Howard arched up, the colours behind his eyelids even brighter. He grabbed the bindings to his wrists and pulled them as if grabbing onto life. But Vince was speedily approaching his peak. He let out a growl, and began to come. * Howard could hardly believe it. Vince was really coming inside him. But there was no mistaking it – Howard’s insides were so abused by now that he felt every spasm, spurt and jolt from Vince with a dozen times sensitivity. Eventually, the last tremors from Vince’s cock pumped away to a gentle tremble. Howard wanted to hold Vince, to kiss him, to stroke him and thank him for being his first time - but Vince was sprawled on top of him, far out of reach of Howard’s bound arms. Anyway, at least one thing was for sure, thought Howard. His virginity was long gone. When another man shot his happy juice up your arse, then goodbye maidenhood. Eventually Vince’s cock started to retreat, slipping out in a mess of sperm and oil. Panting, Vince pulled himself to his knees. Howard chafed at his tightly-pulled wrists. As Vince had lifted up, his body had stroked across Howard’s still-hard cock. Howard was still so painfully hard. He was so close to coming himself. “Please, Vince,” he breathed. “Please… touch me.” But Vince was too busy examining his own genitals. There were shiny red streaks along Vince’s cock, showing neon bright in the dimness of the bedroom. With an inquiring noise, Vince reached forward and stretched Howard’s cheeks apart. He made an inspection of Howard’s anus. Howard leant into Vince’s slightest touch. “Yes,” Howard begged, waggling his erection, hoping that Vince would get the general idea. “Hmm. Less blood than for your average devirginization,“ stated Vince. “Probably not the fabled arse-hymen. Pity.” And, inspection over, Vince bunched up a corner of sheet from the end of the bed and coolly began to wipe the stains from his penis. Howard couldn’t care less what rubbish Vince gibbered. He only wanted those hands around his cock, pumping it up and down. “Vince! Stop messing about! You’re not going to leave me like this?” Vince had retrieved the box of popcorn and was sitting strangely straight-backed on the end of the bed, picking out the largest kernels in a pompous, overly fussy way. It reminded Howard of something or someone he couldn’t quite remember. But Howard had other, more urgent things on his mind. “Vince?” cried Howard, in frustration. He thrashed about, desperate to find anything to rub himself against to relieve the pressure. “Oh God, please!” “Ahhh...” Vince munched on the popcorn with obvious pleasure. “This has really been a most enjoyable encounter.” He looked over at Howard. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You are a quite remarkably attractive man.” “Then why won’t you touch me, Vince?” howled Howard. Vince tilted his head as he considered this. He set down his popcorn. “Well - I usually have a rule about virgins - but I think I’ll make an exception for you.” Vince moved towards the bed. Howard’s hopes rose. “So you enjoyed performing as my cock-sucking little bitch?” “Just pull me off, Vince!” shouted Howard, losing all dignity. “You worked me up so that I’m close to bursting! I can’t bear it!” Vince laughed. “So eager for more! Well,” he stepped up close. Howard could feel his breath. “Stay that way. And we’ll see.” And Vince placed one last lick onto Howard’s face, pressing down hard across the colouring bruise. Then he smiled - the same eerie smile as before, which narrowed his eyes and ended in a hint of snarl. “What? We’ll see? Fuck that!” wailed Howard, pulling at his bonds. “What about now, you bastard! At least untie me so I can wank myself off!” Howard widened his eyes. “No Vince, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it – don’t go!” But Vince had hefted up the Head Shaman’s sword under one arm and, sticking the box of popcorn under his other, was making his way out the door, still totally naked. Howard was left alone in the darkness of the night, with only a hard on for company, and thinking – so that was sex. Wondering if the aching in his frustrated balls could possibly get any worse. Yes. Probably it would. The night was young. * The ache when he woke up, some time in the afternoon, was terrible – in his arms, which were still tied to the bedposts, and in his arse. His cock, however, was bobbing cheerfully at his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vince moving around, doing something with his clothes. Probably deciding what to wear, from the rate he was throwing them around. “Good morning?” he called shyly. Vince stopped moving. He came to the bed and stood over Howard. He met Howard’s eager expression with a look of haughty contempt, complete with flared nostrils, that Howard only knew him to wear when he was both furious and hurt. It had happened then, just as Howard had feared. He’d always known that if he ever had sex with anyone, they’d hate him for it afterwards. ��Oh. You’re awake, are you, Casanova?” Vince sneered. “Vince, I’m sorry. Can we just forget it ever happened?” “Do you even know what happened?” “What do you mean?” Now that he was beginning to wake up more fully, he was becoming irritated with Vince as well. What right did he have to act this way? Hadn’t he been the one who wanted it to happen? “It wasn’t ME, you berk!” Vince cried, his voice cracking. “Now wait a minute. We were both involved. Everything was consensual. You may regret it now, but don’t pretend that you weren’t even here….” “Want to know where I was? Up there!” Vince pointed at the ceiling over the bed. “Out of me body. Just a floating consciousness. I couldn’t even get off. Just watch you and him go at it!” “Him? Who?” Fully awake now, Howard was starting to wonder if Vince had simply gone mad. “The Head Shaman, you twit! He occupied my body to get off with you! You lost your cherry to a murdering madman! And you couldn’t even tell the difference between us.” “This… is a dream. There’s something wrong here….” “Wrong!?” Vince’s voice sounded strangled. “I’ll show you wrong!” He snatched something glittery off the floor and held it up for Howard to see. “Vince!” Howard’s voice was hushed, scared. “Who did that to the mirror-ball suit?” “Your little matey, Dennis! He tore it up to tie you up! It’s in pieces now!” Vince was nearly in tears. “You can wear it that way and say it’s your new look,” Howard pointed out consolingly. “Not a bad idea actually,” Vince admitted reluctantly. “But that’s not the point, Howard!” he cried. “Look, Vince, would you just untie me, so we can talk!” “No way! You can stay that way, you dirty manwhore. I’m leaving. I’m getting me own room, elsewheres.” Vince hefted a giant trunk – Howard realized now that he’d been packing – towards the door, but soon gave up. “Oi! I’ll send for my stuff later.” “Vince… where are you going?” Howard pleaded. “Away from you!” After Vince had left, Howard waited, the blazing ache in his back and arms and shoulders and arse almost overpowering any ability to feel the loss of Vince – of their friendship or any hope of a relationship. He hoped it would also overpower his humiliation at being discovered by Naboo and Bollo when he called for their help. Which he would have to do soon, because he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. And then, after they’d laughed at him (he figured for about an hour, depending on how much weed they’d had), he’d be fired. Out on the streets, days before Christmas. A street-random. It wasn’t nearly as bad he’d thought losing his virginity would be.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howard moon #dennis the head shaman #howard moon/dennis #howard moon/dennis the head shaman

1 note · View note

luuuna-rambles · 4 years ago

Text

Taskmaster Contestants Ranked

Following 11x03 “Run Up A Tree To The Moon”

(Done by average point score per episode)

Katherine Ryan - 18.8

Sarah Kendall (⬆) - 18.33333

Liza Tarbuck -18.1

Noel Fielding, Jon Richardson - 18

Kerry Godliman - 17.6

Jessica Knappett, Tim Vine - 17.5

Rob Becket - 17.4

Bob Mortimer - 17.25

Richard Osman - 17.2

Lee Mack (⬆), Mike Wozniak (⬇), Russel Howard - 17

Joe Lycett - 16.875

Mel Giedroyc - 16.75

Ed Gamble, Rhod Gilbert- 16.7

James Acaster - 16.5

Lou Sanders - 16.4

Sally Philips, Mark Watson - 16.25

Richard Herring, Dave Gorman - 16.2

Hugh Dennis - 16.125

Al Murray - 16

Rose Matafeo, Asim Chaudhry - 15.9

Daisy May Cooper, Katy Wix -15.8

Aisling Bea - 15.75

Josh Widdecombe - 15.666666

Lolly Adefope - 15.625

Ian Stirling, Doc Brown - 15.6

Frank Skinner, Romesh Ranganathan - 15.5

Jo Brand - 15.4

Alice Levine - 15.2

Mawaan Rizwan - 15.1

Joe Thomas - 15

Tim Key - 14.66666666

Sara Pascoe - 14.4

Sian Gibson - 14.3

Johnny Vegas - 13.9

Jo Wilkinson - 13.8

Paul Sinha - 13.6

Nish Kumar 13.375

Phil Wang - 13.3

Paul Chowdhry - 13.2

David Baddiel - 12.8

Katherine Parkinson - 11.8

Roisin Conaty - 11.33333

Jamali Maddix - 10.33333

Charlotte Ritchie - 9.33333

#taskmaster #taskmaster uk #best taskmaster contestants #sarah kendall #lee mack #mike wozniak #jamali maddix #charlotte ritchie

43 notes · View notes

daleisgreat · 4 years ago

Text

Speed

youtube

Today’s entry will mark the first official 4K home video release I am writing about. I already own a few other 4K UHDs, and a couple of months ago, I watched my first 4K video at home with 2001’s The Fast and the Furious. However, I already covered that movie’s BluRay release here several years ago, so I will not be dedicating another entry for it, other than to say that the 4K upgrade pops and makes it look like a new release. Today’s entry is for 1994’s Speed (trailer). Before diving into this movie, I noticed one of the tracks from this film’s score repeatedly used throughout sounds awfully like one of the main themes I primarily associated with the Metal Gear Solid franchise. I have no idea if this was pointed out before, and I just overlooked it all these years, or maybe I am grasping at straws. Click or press here to take a listen and decide for yourself. 1994 was a hell of a year for Hollywood movies primarily transpiring from a highway with The Chase, Speed, and the OJ Simpson Bronco chase….oh wait (although I highly recommend the ESPN 30 for 30 on it, simply titled: June 17th 1994). The majority of Speed has a straightforward premise: serial bomber and local madman Howard Payne (Dennis Hopper) planted a bomb on a bus rigged to explode once the bus drops below 55 miles per hour. Police officer Jack Traven (Keanu Reeves) is alerted to this by the bomber himself to exact revenge on Traven after successfully rescuing hostages from an elevator Payne armed at the beginning of the film.

From there, for the middle hour of this nearly two-hour film, the action almost entirely takes place on the bus. Traven makes a grand entrance onto the bus by commandeering a Jaguar and having its owner (Glenn Plummer) take the wheel so Traven could heroically leap onto the bus and save the day. It would not be that easy of a rescue mission as Payne has eyes on the bus, and Traven has to play by his rules and get him his $3 million ransom to disarm the bus. Without question, the middle hour on the bus is the best part of the film. The opening half-hour is an excellent appetizer with the elevator hostage crisis that Traven and his partner, Harry (Jeff Daniels), successfully foil. However, once the action shifts to the bus is when Speed takes off. Shortly after taking control of the bus, one of the passengers freaks and inadvertently shoots the bus driver, and a fellow passenger, Annie (Sandra Bullock), takes over the wheel. Throughout the film, Annie and Traven have wonderful chemistry, and I could not help but root for the duo throughout. Every couple of minutes, there is a new potential conflict to overcome to keep the bus going over 55mph. The film wisely peppers in brief dialog exchanges to let the movie breathe just enough before the next hurdle makes itself present.

The film's standout moment is the major obstacle for the bus to overcome when it encounters a stretch of unavoidable highway under construction and missing a hearty chunk of the road. Traven’s solution is that since that stretch of a road is on an incline, they may clear that gap if they build up enough speed! That epic stunt hits all the right notes, and I got goosebumps all over again re-watching it, and odds are, I bet you did too if you have seen this movie. If you have not, then watch this scene and see for yourself by click or pressing here. A lot of the critical discussion in the aftermath of this movie was if that jump was realistically possible. The best thing I can do is to compare it to another film, Road Trip, which is likely a better indicator of what could happen when attempting such a feat. Once the middle bus portion of the film is over, there are still about 20 minutes left where Traven tracks and chases down Payne in a subway station. The movie felt over once the bus portion had such a satisfying conclusion that it almost feels wrong to keep sticking with the film by this point, but I recommend you do since there is a satisfying payoff in the form of Payne’s demise. I have to share a story now when I first saw this film at around 13 or 14 on VHS. My dad’s VCR had what seemed to me at the time was a revolutionary feature where if I kept pressing the pause button repeatedly, it would slowly, frame-by-frame, play the film in super slow-motion. At that age, I thought this was a fantastic way to get the most out of the biggest stunts in action scenes. My favorite moment exploiting this feature was seeing Traven and Payne wrestle around on the top of a subway train until Payne was not watching his field of vision, and a warning light lead to his sudden beheading. I slow-motion replayed that sequence countless times in my awkward, early teenage years. Suffice it to say, Hopper plays the out-of-his-mind bomber perfectly, going so far as to make sure he receives his appropriate cinematic comeuppance.

The director ensures the many passengers on the bus maximized their minutes to the point I where it feels like you are right there with them!

Two audio commentaries are the only extra features of the 4K disc in this 4K/BluRay combo pack. One is with the director, Jan de Bont, and the other is with producer Mark Gordon and writer Graham Yost. Props are to whoever decided to subtitle the commentary tracks. I very much appreciate it! I first started to bounce back and forth between the two commentary tracks, but Bont was way too relaxed and had too many pauses to hold my attention, and I finished up with his track within five minutes. However, Yost and Gordon are very much engaged from beginning to end and have fun cracking jokes and sharing memories throughout. Some quick takeaways I got from them were how they wanted to film a major scene outside of a sports arena, dealing with critics poking holes at how unrealistic their stunts were, and how watching the movie felt very different at the time of the commentary recording just two months after 9/11. The BluRay disc contains the remainder of the bonus features. Inside Speed is a four-part feature lasting just under an hour breaking down the visual effects, stunts, and location sequences, but half of it also contains an HBO First Look special hosted by Dennis Hopper that hits all the right kinds of cheesy mid-90s EPK nostalgia that it is worth checking out. Aside from 12 minutes of extended scenes and a Billy Idol music video that seems totally off base with the tempo of the film, there are a couple of Action Sequences mini-features breaking down some of the stunts. I highly recommend watching the one dissecting how they did the bus jump, as it shows raw footage of what really happened when they shot it, and showed footage of some of the specific safety measures they instilled to make that stunt as safe as possible and had some eye-opening interviews with the stunt driver before and after.

After watching that old VHS copy nearly a dozen times, Speed wound up being one of my favorite action films I got burnt out early on and never bothered upgrading to a DVD or standalone BluRay. Watching it again in 4K all these years later breathed new life into it for me. I am not an expert at breaking down video quality by any means, but watching the 4K disc on my 4KTV gave the impression of this having far more current production values. The editors somehow managed to remove all the old film grain defects for a smooth 4K upgrade. If you have not seen Speed yet, then it has everything you could want out of a mid-90s action movie with explosions, gripping thrills and stunts, dramatic rescues, plenty of zinger one-liners…..and a Billy Idol theme song. Pardon me while I attempt my best Dennis Hopper impression here, “Pop quiz, hotshot, which 1994 blockbuster that takes place primarily on a bus is a perfect candidate for beer and popcorn movie night at home?” Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Endgame The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve The Clapper Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dirty Work Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Inglourious Basterds Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Justice League (2017 Whedon Cut) Last Action Hero Major League Mallrats Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Nintendo Quest Not for Resale Old Joy Payback (Director’s Cut) Pulp Fiction The Punisher (1989) The Ref The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Pilgrim vs the World The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT Trauma Center The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

#random movie #speed #keanu reeves #Sandra Bullock #jeff daniels #dennis hopper #glenn plummer #jan de bont

4 notes · View notes