“B-B-B-Barry! Barry and the Jets! How’s it hanging? I see you’re outside, chillaxin’, soaking up the sun, Sheryl Crow style… Oh, right. Well, if you just look out to your left - no, your other left, just kidding, you were right about your left - and you see that guy waving with one hand from a kayak and paddling with the other and talking to you on his Bluetooth? I’ll give you three gues - ah, hell, that’s me, guy! And what a beautiful day it is. No wonder you brought along your kids and that hot, hot, hot wife of yours, which kinda sorta brings me to my next point. … Yeah, no, don’t worry, this still constitutes 100 yards or so, even by sea.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, hot-ness. As in Some Like It Hot-ness, son! You ever see that flick, man? Crazy, wacky, sexy shit, and what better time to tap into that than now, the day and age where White Chicks 2 gets a green-light. But we need to get certain crowds, certain crowds that don’t get to represent enough, who don’t want to come to the movies to see a bunch of whiny-ass honkies try to mack in drag. So how about this - we go for the gender reversal, with the girls hiding out as guys AND we make them Latina girls, and have them hide out as black guys.
“Yeah, you just let that sink in. Two hotties - Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz, probably, not that anyone can tell the diff - and one’s try to flirt with some male Marilyn Monroe - hmmm, let’s just say Sam Worthington, fucker’s in everything these days - and the other’s getting hit on by… hey, why not, Sam Huntington. He can be this little twink hitting on what he thinks is this black man with huge pecs, and Worthington just appreciates having a good friend who happens to be black too, and they’re both actually really hot chicks, so maybe we could have some chicks who want to make out with them, thinking they’re men. Then it’s girl-guy for the saps in the audiences, a little girl-girl for the dudes, some guy-guy for the shamelessly regressive homoerotic laughs, and every minority under the sun. We’ll even get all that Tropic Thunder blackface controversy without any of that Tropic Thunder retard controversy. What’s not to love?
“And better yet, you lure the cast down to the set - let’s make it Cabo or something - with the promise of a paid vacation, which is all this basically is. It’d be like today every day, all sunny and shit, with some kids running around, some fellas kayaking, and your hot, hot, hawt wife running around in that G-string. Mmmm, mmmm, MMM! Yeah, I got your opening weekend right here, sugar - oh, stow it, Barry, you know I’m just joshin’ ya. But man, what I’d give to just be joshin’ her… what do you give exactly? What does she see in you? I mean, what’s going to stop you from keeping me from paddling back to the beach and showing her what a real man would do for her?
“Okay, admittedly, that restraining order would stop me. Christ, you carry a laminated copy around with you? Well, come on, what’d you expect, Barry? Nobody’s perfect. Lay-tah!”
William Goss lives in Orlando, Florida. But don’t hold that against him.