Micah and I had a brilliant idea. In an insane desire to achieve the pinnacle of our creativity in only our second year on Public Access, we decided to film a promo for our show and have it placed on regular television as a way to attract new viewers to the world of Public Access. We longed to move ourselves further up the ladder of Springfield-area celebrity. Oh yes, if our plan worked, we would soon be rubbing elbows with people like Don Hickman, Tim Davlin, and that giant guy who stands in front of the tire place on Wabash.
We spent weeks in development on an idea for the greatest promo ever recorded in the whole world. In a mere 30 seconds, we would sweep the entire scale of history, replete with rampant boasting, an epic love story to equal Paris and Helen, insane action scenes, fires, explosions, and wailing guitar solos, and a wild tiger. It truly was scripted as the greatest piece of advertising (dare I call it literature?) to ever grace the small screen. The Popeye's "What's Your Flavor?" commercial would look like an ad designed by children in comparison. But we were met with failure . . . and tragedy.
So here's the scene. Two nights ago, the sky was filled with rich colors. The reds of the sunset gave the illusion of the horizon set aflame. Yet there were stormclouds that screamed possibilities of tornadoes and apocalypse. It was the perfect backdrop for our scene. The time was right. We assembled all necessary crew, briefed them, and set out to tape the ending of our kickass promo.
With the sunset to our backs, we mounted the burning pickup truck and began to speed down Wabash. The crew raced alongside and in front of us to get the best action shots ever imprinted to film. I took my place high aloft the cab, where I strapped on my guitar and began to churn out licks that if heard round the world would truly prove that America is Number 1! Meanwhile, Micah, wearing his toga, clung to the actress playing the Helen to his Paris. She dangled freely from the rear of the truck, being supported only by his inhuman grip (the dude has really strong forearms).
Just as we received the cue for the ninjas to descend on the truck, I knew something was amiss. It may have been the wind, or a scent in the air, or the jets screaming toward us, but we had forgotten to double-check the coordinates for our missile drop. As Micah swung his lady gently into the cab of the truck and turned to block a katana strike, I leapt into the fire on the front of the pickup to avoid a handful of ninja stars tossed my direction. Just then, the missiles fell. They struck, and the truck careened to one side, then the other, before flipping numerous times. The ninjas all used those smokescreen balls to disappear. Micah managed to grab the actress and toss her onto a crew truck before jumping to safety himself. I, on the other hand, was busy trying to remember the diminished F# chord, and I lost my footing. That one always gives me trouble. I fell hard on the pavement. I broke three ribs, my right ulna, and several bones in my foot when one of the crew trucks ran over me. To top it all off, I was then mangled by the set tiger, which had escaped earlier when we were filming the jungle scene. I remember feeling like one of my eyes may have popped out for a second during the impact. It still feels a little loose, but it's hanging in there.
I'll be okay. I just need some time to recover. Unfortunately, the footage that was shot has been confiscated by authorities. The authorities were very unhappy, and didn't seem to care that we were on the verge of achieving our big break. Apparently you have to have special paperwork and permits to film stunt work, etc. in the city. So I guess the promo will never be shown. It will be locked away in an evidence room somewhere downtown, at least until our trial is over.
This week I was working on a nonfiction passage about Colombian folklore for work, and I came across this unique folk tale.
