We have all at least once had that elusive dream of writing the great American novel. Those of you in Australia, Canada, the UK, and other points outward please substitute your favorite country in that description. We’re a little busy and probably can’t take the time right now to generate a really good, steamy, no holds barred, sexy, sensual, erotic, thriller. But if you have some spare time, here’s our idea.
First we start with a really implausible triangle. Let’s take two high ranking, make that very, very high ranking military officers. A couple of 4 star generals will do. Now let’s throw in a young chick who doesn’t have a real job but is always throwing parties for her best buds over at the nearby air force base. Now we need the side characters. Let’s toss in a clingy mistress, an evil twin, and a recently re-elected president. And give each of the main characters spouses. We figure one wife who will stand by her man, one husband who chases tail all day at work, and another wife who doesn’t come out at all until the next to the last chapter.
Now that we have the characters we need a good implausible plot. Boy grows up never learning to shoot a BB gun and swears he’ll become the most powerful military leader of the free world, so powerful that eventually they’ll ask him to use his powers to spy on the rest of the world and so good at that someday women all over the world will fight for the opportunity to “write his biography” (wink, wink). While all that is going on, another boy grows up to learn the value of saving all of his testosterone for future letter writing when he’ll someday use it to become famous for e-mailing over 20,000 pages of flirty flim flam. Nobody can write “oh baby, baby” as many times as he can and mean it! They all meet at a party hosted by the women of no visible means of support where each vies for the opportunity to tell the world just how good a mother the hostess’s sister is.
Meanwhile, the mistress is missing out on all the fun and sends respectful requests to the party-girl that she better not be writing a biography (wink, wink) too. When her advances bring no responses she ups the ante and uses dirty words. Now she’s done it. The merrymaker goes to the local office of the secret national police to complain. Fortunately the young officer who takes her complaint takes a special, and shirtless, personal interest in her and swears he’ll not rest until heads roll over the bad behavior the world has shown her. Why it has him so steamed that his muscles bulge ala the Incredible Hulk until he busts out of his shirt rendering him shirtless. And special.
General Number Two continues to write “oh baby, baby” 100,000 times on the electronic black board.
General Number One sensing something bad is about to happen urges his biographer (wink, wink) to chill on the respectful requests and while we’re at it, breaks up with her. “No dice,” the writer (wink, wink) says, “nobody is going to make me forget about my illicit love affair, not you, not her, not even my husband.”
And General Number Two continues to write “oh baby, baby” another 100,000 times while waiting for the little blue pill to kick in.
Soon the Geeky Squad has confiscated everybody’s computer where they find a draft of a not yet delivered press release saying, “It wasn’t me, it was my evil twin. She’s the bad one!” and signed by both sisters.
General Number Two adds several more thousand “oh baby, baby” to his list.
While all this is going on the newly re-elected president is not happy. (That’s the short chapter.)
And General Number Two writes, “oh baby, baby. Hoo hah!” (Probably the little blue pill finally, well, you know.)
So, what do you think. We’re certain it will be a hit. It’s just impossible enough that people will actually believe it and it could sell millions. But if you’re not so certain about that one, we have another idea. It’s about a very, very high ranking military officer who is demoted for padding his expense account by close to $100,000 while living in Africa. How can you spend $100,000 in Africa? Organic Lion Chow of course.
Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?