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fellowshippers2005-12-16 12:05 am
pecos.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-12-16 12:05 am
A very little story to share
Here’s a little something I wrote to christen the new computer at home, which currently has more bad habits than a crack hor. It's already been posted on my lj, so my apologies to those who will find it here again. I wasn't too sure that I was going to put it out for public consumption, but no one's been killed yet or anything, so what the heck...no beta read, no plot, no smut. Hope you are amused anyhow:
Title: Acceptance Speech
Author: Pecos
Website: www.chimerafic.com
Genre: LOTR RPS
Rating: PG
Acceptance Speech
“...and the winner is…Orlando Bloom!”
*Applause, screams, cheers. The actor rises from his seat and hurries to the stage*
“Hello, uh, yeah. Uh, I’ve got two minutes to say this, and it needs to be said, so if you’ll all just hold your reaction for a moment I’ll talk as fast as I can. Thanks…right…
This award doesn’t belong to me. No, seriously, please….”
*Holds up his hands as the crowd quickly falls quiets*
“I’ve worked on four movies this year, well, five. But when you see me on the screen or in a magazine or when you vote for me to win an award like this it isn’t me who deserves the recognition. It’s the hundred and twenty-seven people who worked on the last movie I filmed, and the six hundred plus on the others. It’s the people who have created this career, and who make it possible for me to act.
It’s for Mina, at the front desk, who doesn’t mind calling me three times to wake me up in time to get to set. It’s the catering lady, Grete, who puts soymilk out when she see me coming. It’s Jock, the driver who always reminds me to buckle up before he’ll put it into drive. It’s Marcus, who keeps the concealer in his pocket because it sticks to my baggy eyes better when it’s warm.
It’s my agent, who never grinds her teeth when I whine. It’s the desk clerk who lies to his own girlfriend about what room I’m in so I can get an undisturbed night’s sleep. It’s the guy who sets up the portable toilets on the location set, and the people who run the generators, and the crew members who hold up the reflectors no matter how hot or bright or boring it gets. It’s the lady who missed her daughter’s soccer game because I tore my costume, and the kid who ran to fetch another pair of shoes when I messed up the continuity. It’s for Marcy, who corrected my Japanese language mistakes under her breath so I wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of the press.
This award belongs to the writers, who give me words to say that are far more clever then I’m capable of, and the script girl who quietly repeated the parts that I’d get turned around. It’s for the directors who’ve been willing to gamble their reputations on my talents, and the studio executives who took flack over my casting. It’s for the people who did the accounting and wrote the checks. It’s for the guy who just shook his head and paid the bill when I fell asleep in front of the pay-per-view in the hotel room one night. It’s for Paulo, over there, behind the proscenium, who’s going to help me off the stage when I leave because the lights up here burn your retinas and it’s dark in the wings.
See, an actor is just the most conspicuous component in a vast collective of people who make movies. I’m not the most dedicated person on the set. I’m not the most talented, and I haven’t suffered the most to make something out of nothing. I don’t worry about losing my job over someone else’s mistake, and I don’t go hungry. I’m just the one that’s the easiest to recognize, and I’m the one who gets paid the most and gets the cool swag and the whispered invitations to all the cool parties. I get to take this statuette home with me, and put it on the proverbial mantel, and I’ll be the one who dusts it next year when someone else is standing in this spot trying to beat the orchestra to the commercial break.
This award is for the fans who stayed out there in the rain for hours because they thought maybe I would be finished soon and could come out to meet them. It’s for everyone who bought a ticket, picked up the magazine, snuck in to the theatre, or rented the disc. It’s for all the people who have guided my life to this point, and to those who will be there when I’m fat and old and boring their asses off with stories about ‘the days’.”
*Pauses, swallowing hard, blinking against the tears, smiles. Audience holds their breath*
“Finally, this is for the two very special souls who love me most, who know me inside and out, who sleep with me at night and protect me from the dark – from the things that are in it, and the things that are not. One of them is a dog, and the other is a crazy artist. I love them both.
This award is for them, and for every one of you, and for the hundreds more I forgot to mention. I’ll keep it dusted, yeah?”
*Music swells, and the crowd goes crazy. Orlando exits stage left, on the arm of a freakishly tall young lady with a frozen smile. Paulo’s hand is shaking as he guides Orlando around the edge of the set and over cables. Orlando mutters his thanks, and falls into the embrace of his lover, who left the audience to meet him backstage*
“Showoff,” Viggo mutters.
Title: Acceptance Speech
Author: Pecos
Website: www.chimerafic.com
Genre: LOTR RPS
Rating: PG
Acceptance Speech
“...and the winner is…Orlando Bloom!”
*Applause, screams, cheers. The actor rises from his seat and hurries to the stage*
“Hello, uh, yeah. Uh, I’ve got two minutes to say this, and it needs to be said, so if you’ll all just hold your reaction for a moment I’ll talk as fast as I can. Thanks…right…
This award doesn’t belong to me. No, seriously, please….”
*Holds up his hands as the crowd quickly falls quiets*
“I’ve worked on four movies this year, well, five. But when you see me on the screen or in a magazine or when you vote for me to win an award like this it isn’t me who deserves the recognition. It’s the hundred and twenty-seven people who worked on the last movie I filmed, and the six hundred plus on the others. It’s the people who have created this career, and who make it possible for me to act.
It’s for Mina, at the front desk, who doesn’t mind calling me three times to wake me up in time to get to set. It’s the catering lady, Grete, who puts soymilk out when she see me coming. It’s Jock, the driver who always reminds me to buckle up before he’ll put it into drive. It’s Marcus, who keeps the concealer in his pocket because it sticks to my baggy eyes better when it’s warm.
It’s my agent, who never grinds her teeth when I whine. It’s the desk clerk who lies to his own girlfriend about what room I’m in so I can get an undisturbed night’s sleep. It’s the guy who sets up the portable toilets on the location set, and the people who run the generators, and the crew members who hold up the reflectors no matter how hot or bright or boring it gets. It’s the lady who missed her daughter’s soccer game because I tore my costume, and the kid who ran to fetch another pair of shoes when I messed up the continuity. It’s for Marcy, who corrected my Japanese language mistakes under her breath so I wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of the press.
This award belongs to the writers, who give me words to say that are far more clever then I’m capable of, and the script girl who quietly repeated the parts that I’d get turned around. It’s for the directors who’ve been willing to gamble their reputations on my talents, and the studio executives who took flack over my casting. It’s for the people who did the accounting and wrote the checks. It’s for the guy who just shook his head and paid the bill when I fell asleep in front of the pay-per-view in the hotel room one night. It’s for Paulo, over there, behind the proscenium, who’s going to help me off the stage when I leave because the lights up here burn your retinas and it’s dark in the wings.
See, an actor is just the most conspicuous component in a vast collective of people who make movies. I’m not the most dedicated person on the set. I’m not the most talented, and I haven’t suffered the most to make something out of nothing. I don’t worry about losing my job over someone else’s mistake, and I don’t go hungry. I’m just the one that’s the easiest to recognize, and I’m the one who gets paid the most and gets the cool swag and the whispered invitations to all the cool parties. I get to take this statuette home with me, and put it on the proverbial mantel, and I’ll be the one who dusts it next year when someone else is standing in this spot trying to beat the orchestra to the commercial break.
This award is for the fans who stayed out there in the rain for hours because they thought maybe I would be finished soon and could come out to meet them. It’s for everyone who bought a ticket, picked up the magazine, snuck in to the theatre, or rented the disc. It’s for all the people who have guided my life to this point, and to those who will be there when I’m fat and old and boring their asses off with stories about ‘the days’.”
*Pauses, swallowing hard, blinking against the tears, smiles. Audience holds their breath*
“Finally, this is for the two very special souls who love me most, who know me inside and out, who sleep with me at night and protect me from the dark – from the things that are in it, and the things that are not. One of them is a dog, and the other is a crazy artist. I love them both.
This award is for them, and for every one of you, and for the hundreds more I forgot to mention. I’ll keep it dusted, yeah?”
*Music swells, and the crowd goes crazy. Orlando exits stage left, on the arm of a freakishly tall young lady with a frozen smile. Paulo’s hand is shaking as he guides Orlando around the edge of the set and over cables. Orlando mutters his thanks, and falls into the embrace of his lover, who left the audience to meet him backstage*
“Showoff,” Viggo mutters.
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That was so beautifully moving.
THANK YOU!
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Just terribly moving . . .
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Ginger
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fanfreakingtastic.
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