We were all sitting at the Writers’ Workshop in the Bolean Nationality Classroom.
They were going to decertify the Bolean classroom, but a flying saucer dispatched by the King Garbiagge Bolean landed on the Cathedral lawn with 2 billion in Platinum ingots and another billion in rare earth metals for the University Development Fund Campaign and the classroom was thus quietly saved. The saucer had Yuber and Lyftee markings on it so, the King was apparently too cheap to hire a cab.
“We need to make a film about our Writer’s Workshop for the Boleans. Apparently, we are the only group to ever use this classroom other than the Data Analytics classes.” Said the professor.
The Swole’ Bro’ fell asleep and tumbled out of his chair, but never woke up.
“Moron.” Muttered the CEO.
‘A movie would be neato-boppy-rainbow-sugar-plum-furry-cosplay-animé…” Started Hiroyuki.
“Shut the f@&$ up, you stupid, juvenile Japanimation twat! God, you’re a f&$king imbecile.” Said the Punker Model Writer Chick, interrupting Hiroyuki.
“Oh f@&$ you, take a bath, you smelly schizophrenic nose-ring idiot, I can smell your stinky dead-fish vag from here, take your f&$@ing Meds already!” Shrieked Hiroyuki.
“I want to make love to the Botendaddy right here in front of everybody.” Sighed Ramon. “He is beautiful. Why must I share him with the likes of the rest of you, you do not love him in a romantic, 19th-Century, Patagonian, dos Pasos way like I do. None of you even understand true romance. Did any of you even read my novel? Bastards…”
“Focus, people.” Said Devon.
“OK, let’s do black and white, like film noir.” Suggested the Caribbean Queen.
“Where do we film this thing? Can we get a shot of the group on our four-mile University run?”
“We can film one of the Botendaddy’s book reviews, while I, not that bitch Ramon, make love to the Botendaddy, because I have always loved him in a rustic, Jack London, early 20th-Century sort of way.” Mused the Park Ranger.
“A film is a great idea. But I saw the Botendaddy first and we should film him making love to me in every way imaginable from every different camera angle.” Uttered the Stalker as she creepily ate Skiddles from a bag.
“No, we should film him making love to me after a huge Bollywood song and dance routine with an all South-Asian cast, because f@&$ the rest of you racist South-Asian hating, sh$t eating bastards! I hate all of you!” Offered the Weird Foreign Doctor Chick.
“Oh mysterious and mighty great and powerful Trump! In the name of Voat I summon thee thine MAGA like the fabulous Yog Sothtoth! Please deport this stinky fat high-BMI Nepali Lardvaark, Obeast, shit-smelling, quack, deathfat, NSFW to her K-2 Mt. Everest death zone or wherever the f&$k she came from!” Shrieked the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady as she stood on her chair eyes rolled back in her head with her thumbs extended from her ears in a rhythmic incantation of Miskatonic Lovecraftian style.
“You are all insane. Let’s just make this goddamned movie.” Said the Librarian.
“Botendaddy, will you just f@& me already? I’m feeling neglected.” Whispered the CEO.
“Jamaican blue coffee?”
Peace be the Botendaddy