By: Matthew Pollack
A treatment for an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie expressed as a series of sonnets
He follows them from, say, a club or rave,
Some hot spot where the idle middle class
Takes the cure. He is, we find, involved
At every level, from planting a "stash"
On a casual user, to gunning him down
In a "drug deal gone awry", orchestrated
With the help of his dealer friend (Luiz - a clown -
Accent, etc.). He would be hated
But for 2 things. One: His spoils are spread
quite thin. He may unjustly seize a house
Then give it to a cop, greasing the brows
And ears of the department, straight to the head,
Who turns a keen interest from what he's told.
The second reason's this: He is Arnold.
"The cure's" just that, too. The arrested need
This arcane club drug - call it 'Q' or 'Scrake' -
To keep at bay attacks, in which they bleed
From every orifice, and scream and shake.
You would think Arnold, with all the pressure
He puts on the market, would force them out
Into the open - ticking bombs of seizure
Driving, working, studying. Except that throughout
The city, houses that were always theirs
Have been remodeled by dear Arnold's friends:
A bookcase here, a globe, antique bookends,
And stretched between them, cut roughly with sheers,
A finger, strand of arm, body unfolded,
Springy, glowing, trembling to be unmolded.
Finally, in the trendily lit recesses
Of a now established club ("The Bottom Feeder"?)
We learn the running-gag gorgeous chief-of-police's
Wife is the long-sought alien leader.
One drink, one brief exchange, and she succumbs.
She knows she is the last of her kind untouched.
She swallows, takes his hand, and walks him home.
Needless to say, this is too goddamned much.
The Chief brings down the gavel. Hell breaks loose.
The aliens lose hold of their human forms
And rape the city. Arnold slips the noose
And saves the vicious day from mortal harm.
The chief dies, as he must, for being 'Dad':
"It doesn't bother me you stole my wife.
These things happen. Besides, I know she served
You in your quest. What really makes me mad
Is that you, masterful, bulging from life,
Chose her, and she did nothing to deserve you."
A treatment for an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie expressed as a series of sonnets
He follows them from, say, a club or rave,
Some hot spot where the idle middle class
Takes the cure. He is, we find, involved
At every level, from planting a "stash"
On a casual user, to gunning him down
In a "drug deal gone awry", orchestrated
With the help of his dealer friend (Luiz - a clown -
Accent, etc.). He would be hated
But for 2 things. One: His spoils are spread
quite thin. He may unjustly seize a house
Then give it to a cop, greasing the brows
And ears of the department, straight to the head,
Who turns a keen interest from what he's told.
The second reason's this: He is Arnold.
"The cure's" just that, too. The arrested need
This arcane club drug - call it 'Q' or 'Scrake' -
To keep at bay attacks, in which they bleed
From every orifice, and scream and shake.
You would think Arnold, with all the pressure
He puts on the market, would force them out
Into the open - ticking bombs of seizure
Driving, working, studying. Except that throughout
The city, houses that were always theirs
Have been remodeled by dear Arnold's friends:
A bookcase here, a globe, antique bookends,
And stretched between them, cut roughly with sheers,
A finger, strand of arm, body unfolded,
Springy, glowing, trembling to be unmolded.
Finally, in the trendily lit recesses
Of a now established club ("The Bottom Feeder"?)
We learn the running-gag gorgeous chief-of-police's
Wife is the long-sought alien leader.
One drink, one brief exchange, and she succumbs.
She knows she is the last of her kind untouched.
She swallows, takes his hand, and walks him home.
Needless to say, this is too goddamned much.
The Chief brings down the gavel. Hell breaks loose.
The aliens lose hold of their human forms
And rape the city. Arnold slips the noose
And saves the vicious day from mortal harm.
The chief dies, as he must, for being 'Dad':
"It doesn't bother me you stole my wife.
These things happen. Besides, I know she served
You in your quest. What really makes me mad
Is that you, masterful, bulging from life,
Chose her, and she did nothing to deserve you."