Movies come to the suburbs

When I heard the doorbell ring, I darted to the door, grabbing a punch bowl and some other kitchen paraphernalia on the way.  I was expecting a friend who was picking up what she had loaned me.  Instead, I found a very tall, handsome, thin man standing at my threshold.

“Hi, my name is Evan.  My brother and I are from Massachusetts,” he said, pointing to a car parked out front.  We’re making an independent film, and we’d like to rent your house for a day of filming.”

Couponman loves movies and making money doing nothing, so I thought this would be a perfect fit.

“Come in,” I invited.  Couponman, also known as the Reporter, began his banter with this young movie buff.  The ensuing discussion had preempted his viewing of Spartacus and probably had about the same running time.  He went on and on.  I just wanted to know what the plot was.

“It’s about a young man who opens a security business in a small New England town,” Evan began.  “He can’t sell any systems because the town is too safe, so he robs the residents.”

“And our home will be robbed?” my husband asked.  “You’ll be using your own props, right?”

“Yes,” the young stranger smiled.

“What are you going to do to protect our structure from damage?” Couponman-turned-reporter-turned-inspector asked.

“We have insurance,” he answered.  “We’ll line your floors, and even tape packing material on the walls.”

“Why’d you select our home?” I asked.

“It looks like it belongs on the East coast.”  (Coco’s wavey-in-the-breeze English garden Mother’s Day gift must be working.)

“Why didn’t you just make the film in your hometown?”

“Well, a couple of the actors are well known, and it’s less expensive to film out here than pay their expenses.”

“So who are the stars?” I asked.

“Cary Elwes, from Princess Bride and Men in Tights,” he divulged.  He actually revealed two names, but you know how my memory works – rather how it doesn’t work.

As the young man finished explaining how his family raised $200,000 for the production, he walked to the door.  His brother and director were waiting in the hot car, by this time probably roasting in the sun.  “You can invite them in,” I said. 

“Nah, they’re okay.”  I slipped him three Snickers Peanut Butter bars (left over from the swag at the Blogher convention. 

“Don’t forget the duct tape,” I smiled and called out to him as he left.

He turned back.  “What for?” he asked.

I swiped my fingers across my mouth and pointed to Couponman.  “You’ll need it if you expect him to have a non-speaking walk-on part.”

P.S. Now Couponman is fretting that the tall, young man is really stalking our house, preparing for a reality show rather than a fictional account about robbing homes.

P.S.S.  And the GAP is on a quest to lose ten pounds for when she moseys on over during the shoot and movie guys just happen to need an “extra.”  And the Worm has volunteered for any parts for five-year-olds.

Related posts:

1. Night on the town
2. Gold leaf
3. The price of stupid
4. My life in the movies