Scene two

Yesterday we received a call from our very own move producers — the two young guys using our house as one of the to-be-robbed homes in their indy flick.  “We’ll be by in 30 minutes,” Evan said.

“See I told you,” Couponman fretted.  “They’re coming to case the joint.”

Thirty minutes!  “Quick clean the kitchen,” I shouted to Couponman.  If my daughter can lose ten pounds in five weeks (just in case they need an extra), I should be able to pull off picking up the house in half an hour.

We opened the door to basketball-player-tall Evan, his brother Adam, and their director.  Adam was thin, too, but even taller than Evan, with curly hair.  Possibly shoulder length if you pulled the curls straight.  He looked like a stretched out Daniel Stern.

“We’ll be bringing in a Doberman,” Adam said.  “Is that okay?”  I looked at Couponman.  He didn’t object.  “The Doberman will sneak up on the robber, only be waved off by a piece of hamburger.”

“Oh, like Jack Nicolson using bacon to buy off the little dog in As Good As It Gets,” said my very own movie buff.

“Yep.”  The three visitors smiled.

They opened a kitchen cupboard or two to determine placement of an expensive bottle of Scotch, one of the items scheduled to be lifted in the heist.  We all gathered in the living room.  One of the guys pointed under our bookcase.  “We can hide the dirty magazines under there.”  They never told me they were making porn.  “The thief spies them while he’s sneaking around on the ground,” Evan explained.

“We’ll have to move your television,” they said, gazing at the large flat screen.  “And set up one of our own.”

I flinched slightly.  Couponman and I had moved our previous set to save money when we laid new carpeting last year.  After that all the color collected in one corner, so this new, larger model was kind of near and dear to my pocketbook.  “You’ll have insurance.  Right?” I asked.

They nodded.

“We’re going to have three generations of Arkins in the movie,” Adam said proudly.  “Alan Arkin turned us down at first, but recently he’s agreed to play a policeman.”  He paused a minute, and smiled.  ”But only if he can play a motorcycle cop.”

“That ought to be funny.  He’s one of my favorite actors,” I confessed.  “He was great in The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.”

“He got an Oscar for that movie,” Evan said.  I knew that.  (Too bad he won’t be in the scene at our house.  Maybe they’ll get an autograph for me.)

The stories went on and on.  My husband had been a film monitor for the City of Los Angeles on some shoots, including the one where Jerry Bruckheimer‘s crew accidentally blew up part of the military museum at San Pedro’s Fort McArthur. 

I motioned to the door to Couponman’s captive audience.  “Walk this way.  He’ll follow you.  Otherwise you’ll never get out.”

“Are you going to let her talk to you that way?” Adam asked, looking at Couponman.

“He kisses the ground I walk on,” I laughed.  “And don’t foget the duct tape.”

Epilogue:

Today the crew returned and we handed them a fresh baked, still-warm loaf of zucchini bread.  Couponman and I may not be in-demand as actors, but we’re great craft services people.

Related posts:

1. Movies come to the suburbs
2. Night on the town
3. My life in the movies