This is a purely hypothetical conversation that I've never had with Jeremy London, casting myself as an agent-slash-scriptwriter. Although it's totally ridiculous logical, I thoroughly I believe that if he ever actually read it, he'd say, "Wow, Lady E, you hit the nail right on the proverbial head with this one; it's like we've had this conversation in a parallel universe."
Yes, Jeremy London; a parallel universe, indeed.
The café is dark; the burgundy walls are randomly littered with Gothic style paintings which hide the disrepair of the walls. The light is low - glowing from tiny teardrop lights that dangle above every table. Jeremy is already seated at a table against the far wall, drinking an iced tea and tweeting something from his phone. He's laughing at himself; he thinks everything he tweets is exceptionally clever.
Lady Estrogen: Hi Jeremy. We need to get you into one of my screen plays.
Jeremy London: It's nice to see you too. I have been busy, you know.
LE: Yeah, yeah. I don't mean TwitterPimp big; I mean BIG - like, Ferris Bueller big. (pause) You know... you would have been really good in that movie.
JL: I was only 14 when it came out.
LE: Fine. Whatever. It's not like we can go back in time and cast you in it anyway. Don't split hairs with me, Jeremy. (Waitress brings her cappuccino to the table. She looks up and smiles.) Thank you.
Waitress: You're welcome. (She looks at JL while talking to LE)
LE: Oh, please. (Waitress leaves) How about I write you in something like an action/adventure where you go searching for some lost, important artifact?
JL: Like Indiana Jones? Or Laura Croft?
LE: Dammit. I forgot about them. Hhhhhow about one where you have to destroy a meteor that's going to crash into the earth?
JL: Like Armageddon? Or Deep Impact?
LE: Fuck! This is harder than I thought. What about a couple of guys that just got dumped by their girlfriends and they wander aimlessly... let's say... around a mall, to search for meaning and redemption?
JL: You're an idiot. I've already done THAT one... over 15 years ago.
LE: Shit. I knew it sounded familiar. I have a lot of ideas, you know. I'm just scratching the surface.
JL: Was that supposed to be funny?
LE: I do try.
JL: It wasn't.
LE: Maybe you need to do something with some serious 'edge', ooooo, like 'The Cunt Dragon Slayer'.
JL: What the fuck is a Cunt Dragon? Besides, that word won't go over well; Hollywood is a cruel bitch.
LE: What? Slightly offensive, yet mythical creatures are forbidden but Kevin can do a movie with bestiality and discuss going ass-to-mouth?
JL: Yep. And look how well that one did.
LE: I guess so. It's still bullshit though. How about if it was an off-Broadway musical?
JL: No.
LE: Theatrical production?
JL: NO!
(LE pauses for a deep thought while JL takes the last sip of his drink and the ice rattles in the glass.)
LE: Can I take a photo of you holding a sign that says, "I Love Cunt Dragons"?
(Long pause; JL looks severely annoyed, unimpressed and deflated.)
JL: No.
LE: You disappoint me, Jeremy.
JL: Well, I have to get going. It's been...
LE: Fun? Enlightening? A pleasure, as usual?
JL: (Rolling his eyes) Yeah, sure.
(He gets up and starts walking away; leaving LE sitting at the table.)
LE: I still have big plans for you, ya know. (Raising her voice as he's exiting the café) BIG FUCKING PLANS, JEREMY!
----------------------------------------------
Part Two - The dramatic sequel can be read here.
----------------------------------------------
So, you know he'd love this , right?