Conceptualization of the contraceptive device was not proving to be as easy as one would think for the esteemed Head of Set Props. There were only so many ways to insert, or take out, a device meant to prevent pregnancy, even for a six-legged extraterrestrial.
Staring directly at the spot where the window frame met the wall, his brow furrowed in concentration, Steve Bresnan was going to need more information before the meeting could be concluded. Visions of orb-like devices and green-light-escaping lanterns flooded through his brain, but then again anytime they came to him with “Science Fiction – Alien Movie – ‘Hot’ Actor, Plot TBD” projects like these it was his go-to initial idea, no matter if it was a weapon, source of energy, burial device or whatever the situation called for.
His first set of questions revolved around anatomy; was there, you know, a “male” and a “female”? Did the male, you know, impregnate, the female? Did he do this by, you know, the normal human way, or was there some sort of arachnid-type leg touching? After being sufficiently satisfied that there was indeed a prog and a hole, a mounting and a thrusting, focus could turn to cultures.
Without even looking up from his Blackberry, the Production Manager, a stout 50′ish man dressed in a blue cotton shirt (Brooks Brothers, $160, Item#: 45-8722) and faded striped brown suit pants, sensed where the conversation was going. Removing one hand from the keyboard, he raised his hand as if stopping a school-bus.
“Before you ask, yes they do look like humans but with more legs and some weird Sci-fi’ish face features.”
“So they’re not lizards or spider-crawly-types right?”
“Correct. We wanted to avoid the over-CGI route, plus that shit is getting expensive. I don’t understand computer stuff myself but I mean how much money does a team of nerds need?”
The Head of Design didn’t even flinch upon hearing this. Nothing. He was thinking about porn again, I bet, Steve supposed. Those nerds love their porn.
Tapping on the table with his iPhone, Steve noticed that his left leg was bouncing up and down at the same time. His right hand was twitching and his left leg was bouncing. He wondered if he was having a stroke. No, everything’s fine, it’s probably just the Red Bull. It was before 11 in the morning after all, definitely not the time for a drink made of sugar, medicine and evil.
“Do they gargle when they talk? You know, like “GAAARRRRGGGGHHH!, or “ScccccHHhhhhhHHhh”?”
“No, they’re all British. Well, the actors are British. We tried to get a few Arabs for the speaking roles but they’re all being used for that action flick down the lot.”
American Revenge was a blockbuster production taking place on Lots B, C and D at Viscount studios. Every day since they started filming Steve would drive to work in his 2002 Toyota Camry (sensible, nice interior, deferred payments, low down payment) and be forced to wait behind at least 10 cars entering the lot with that stupid American Revenge sticker on the rear window. “This time it’s our time” or something stupid like that. The movie featured a now very-old Robert DeNiro and a now very-still-bad-actor Taylor Lautner as former Marines whose wives are both suspected terrorists and together they must kill…somebody…or something. Steve hadn’t paid attention to the company memo. It looked stupid and would probably make eleventy billion dollars.
“OK, so British, 6 legs, fucking, dick and vagina…what’s the working plot again?”
“Aliens have invaded Earth but created hybrid babies with the wrong group of people and it’s up to the Twilight kids to protect the correct group from getting filled with alien babies.”
Clapping twice, Steve suddenly stood up in a more rushed fashion than he was hoping to convey. Placing his hands on his hips, he began to rotate them left-to-right in small to medium sized circles. No one found this odd.
“And one of those kids are actually an alien in disguise, right?”
“Correct. That enough info?”
“OK, no problem. One question though – if they’re here to impregnate earth people why would they need contraceptives?”
“Oh that’s the Parents’ Council bullshit again. Apparently even aliens need jimmy-hats.”
Stopping the hip circles, Steve opened his right hand as if a magician waving over a top hat. The panache was not unnoticed.
“Wait, it has to be the males that use them?”
“Of course, I mean I know they’re aliens and all but even they know better than to leave that kinda shit up to a woman.”
