I m a Cunt Sucking Dyke Slut PT2
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Dick Van Dyke 1: If They Had Made A Movie Based On The Book "Turnabout" free porn video
Dick van Dyke 1: If They Had Made a Movie Based on the Book "Turnabout"
By Ron Dow75 ([email protected])
"Rob, do you *have* to watch this movie?!" Laura said,
upset. She was sitting up in her twin bed, trying to ignore what
was on the bedroom TV behind her book.
"What's wrong with this movie? It's a comedy!" Robert
Petrie said from his bed.
"It's going to give you nightmares! I just know it."
"What?? This silly thing?!"
"I know how suggestible you are, Rob. You go and watch
"Turnabout" and you'll have dreams about it!"
"Dreams, maybe. But *not* nightmares!"
"You don't think watching what a voodoo idol does to
someone, right after Buddy's brother from Brazil gives *you* one
won't give you bad dreams!?"
"Hon-ney! It's not a voodoo idol, it's a fertility idol."
"A *voodoo* fertility idol!"
Rob chuckled, "It sounds like it's not *me* who'll be
having the bad dreams."
"You want to give me nightmares! That's it! You watch these
shows just before we go to sleep, just to give me awful dreams!
It's your repressed need to fight: You won't fight like a man
during the day, so you take out your hidden male aggression on me
during the night!"
"Is that what you think, that I'm not a real-" Rob put his
fingers to the sides of his mouth, "(Wheet!) Hold it! We continue
talking like this, and I *will* have that nightmare!"
"Good! I won't be alone!" Laura said, turning her back on
him as she fell to her side and hid herself behind her covers and
pillow.
***
"I don't know. Haven't we done enough 'Wife Skits'?" Sally
Rogers asked Buddy in the writers' office in their NYC
skyscraper.
"You're just saying that because you're a woman," Buddy
Sorrell said.
"Ah! But *not* a wife!" she said, shaking a pencil at him.
"A wife, if you could be one," Buddy told her. "Your
sympathies belong to the other side."
"Other side? What is this, a war?"
"You haven't heard of the War of the Sexes."
"Can you say 'Sexes' on TV?"
"Plural, and in context: Yes! Standards and Practices are
loosening up. Just look at that TV wife who fought to wear Capri
pants! They gave in."
"Ah, here we go back to TV wives again."
"'Give the public what they want.' They want what they're
familiar with: Why do you think domestic comedies are so
popular."
Sally looked at the steno pad in her lap, "There's no
question mark, here."
"It's a rhetorical question."
"Okay. Why just TV wife? What about TV husbands?!"
"TV husbands are dopes," Buddy frowned, and waved his hand
towards her.
Sally looked at Buddy, "*That's* believable. You're
married, aren't you, Buddy."
"Don't get rhetorical with me. TV lowers everyone's
intelligence. And wives start out lower, anyway. Just look at my
wife, Pickles."
"'Lower intelligence'!? I think I should-"
"Hold it," Buddy held up a hand.
"Why?"
"Rob, about this show's script!" A tall, dumpy, bald-headed
producer in a three-piece suit said, entering the room.
"You missed your cue, baldy," Buddy told him.
"Rob's not here," Sally told Mel Cooley.
"Where *is* he?" Mel demanded, trying to ignore the little
man trying to get in his face.
"Probably home standing in bed, because he couldn't stand
looking at you any more!" Buddy told him.
"Feeble. Very feeble," Sally said.
"Oh, yeah? Look at my record," Buddy said, turning away
from the man he loved to despise. "I'm one of *best* comedy
writers in the business. But even *I* can't hit a homerun, every
time."
"We can talk about your ERA some other time," Sally said.
"What did you want to see Rob about, Mel?"
"The first reading is tomorrow, and the script isn't
completed: What else!?"
"You want quality, or you want to an assembly line!" Buddy
told him, sitting down on the sofa.
"I want to do my job. I can't be a producer, without
*something* to produce!"
"Produce! That's where you belong!" Buddy said, lying down
on the sofa.
Sally tried to keep from laughing in Mel's face. "Don't
worry, Mel: If the worse happens, we always have the reserve
scripts."
"*Which* have been cannibalized so many times, they look
like Swiss cheese," he said, turning his back on the man he
despised.
"We can always fill them back up, again," Buddy said.
"Remember, you're talking to the 'Human Joke-Machine'!"
Mel stood up straight, exasperated. "You *are* a joke. And
a human one at that!"
"Bravo!" Buddy said, raising himself to almost sitting up.
"He actually got a zinger out! I got to remember that one."
"Don't worry, you will," Sally said. "Mel, don't worry:
Have we ever let you down before?"
Mel took a long, hard look at Buddy. "No comment." He
turned and left.
"Boy! Mel is more animated than usual," Sally said. "I hope
there's nothing wrong."
"Aaa!" Buddy waved her concerns away. "He's the star's
brother-in-law! The only thing he has to worry about is Alan
Brady."
"And his sister," Sally said.
"Segue back into the subject!" Buddy brightened.
"I *didn't* mean-" Sally said.
"Why do you think Alan likes wife jokes so much!"
"And *I* say we've done our quota of them for one season!"
Sally told him.
"A tie vote: We need Rob!"
"Rob: Okay! He's not like you; he can *be* reasonable!"
"Right. One, two, three..."
"What are you doing?"
"Everyone seems late on their cues today. Rob should've
walked in."
Sally shook her head, "This isn't a comedy sketch."
"Says you! I prefer to view my life as a comedy. Everything
should have a rimshot, and cleaver banter."
"Or, in your case, semi-cleaver banter."
"I'll take it."
"You know, you're right, though."
"I am? Now, there's something I don't hear everyday. What
am I right about?"
"Rob should have been here by now."
"It's like I said: He's home standing up his own dream. He
doesn't want to be in it, so he let's us play our parts without
him."
"Buddy! Will you stop it with the 'This isn't real life'
bit, already!?"
"Hello, everybody!"
"You want proof, there!" Buddy rose to his feet.
"What proof!? It's Laura!" Sally said to Buddy, before
saying, "Hello, Laura. Is Rob with you?"
"That *is* Rob!" Buddy insisted.
"Buddy!!"
"What's going on?"
"Oh, Buddy's on one of his kicks, again," Sally looked at
him under disapproving eyebrows.
"I tell you, it's Rob! Didn't he come in almost on cue?!"
"'He' didn't. *She* did. I could make some comment about
you and Pickles, here, if Standards and Practices would let me,"
Sally said.
"Okay, let's settle this," Buddy came across to the door.
"Whose dream is this? Yours or Laura's?"
"Is this some bit you two are trying out?"
"Humor him, so we can get on with this week's script,"
Sally asked.
"It's me, Rob Petrie!"
"See!? I *told* you!" Buddy said, walking back to where
he'd left.
"No offense, but: You have-"
"Watch it!" Buddy told Sally before sitting back down on
the sofa.
"I was going to say 'mighty smooth legs'!" Sally bent over
to tell him.
"That's acceptable," Buddy nodded, satisfied.
"Smooth..."
"You shave them recently?" Sally asked.
"Sure. You remember that skit we did for the New Rochelle
Women's Social and Aide Association?"
"Oh, yeah..." Sally said, remembering. "That's the week I
*didn't* shave."
"Including your moustache," Buddy added.
"Watch it!" Sally warned. "Or I'll tell everybody you
*can't* get a moustache! Mel would *love* that."
"Speaking of people who can't get moustaches," Buddy said,
"Rob, I see you kept the pantyhose."
"Yes, and that's always been one of my favorite dresses. A
d'Orr, isn't it?" Sally said.
"It's a copy. I suppose next, you'll be talking about my
hair."
"We've already talked about your legs," Buddy said. "Let's
talk about your makeup."
"You *did* go a little heavy on it," Sally nodded.
"Okay: Enough with the fooling around. If this is a bit,
I'm sure it's something that can't get by Standards and
Practices."
"'Standards and Practices'!" Buddy snorted. "I prefer
Censor!"
"No, seriously, Laura," Sally said. "Why are you acting
like Rob?"
"I *told* you-"
"Buddy."
"Buddy!" Sally practically yelled.
"Okay! If, this isn't a dream, tell me why there's no
indication of who's doing the speaking!"
"Wha-at?"
"He's right," Sally said, looking again at the notes on her
lap. "Buddy and I have our names next to our lines, but you,
you're anonymous."
"I knew(!) You two were talking from a script!"
"Unh-hunh. We're scripting from our talk," Sally said.
"I told you he was standing up his dream," Buddy said.
"Rob, if that's who you are, is Laura right? *Do* you want to
give her nightmares?"
"No-Oh!" Rob said, as if that was a ridiculous, unthinkable
idea.
"Hurray! Loyal husband wins!" Sally said, looking at the
script. "Rob breaks the tie vote. No wife Jokes."
"Traitor!" Buddy said, lying back down on the sofa. "You
really *have* gone over to the other side!"
"Yeah. Quite literally," Sally said, checking the script
again to see if Buddy was, for once, correct.
"I'm ignoring everything that's been said up to this point,
so that we can finish the script. Does Alan want a wife skit?"
Rob asked, coming out from behind the desk.
"That's it, Rob!" Buddy said, sitting up in the sofa again.
"Come back over to *our* side!"
"He's going to look pretty silly on your side with no
pants," Sally said.
"So!? It's a comedy! Men in dresses are funny."
"But *he* ain't a man," Sally pointed out.
"I am *so* a man! Just because I'm not the kind with a
deep, loud voice that throws his bulk around, demanding things of
the world, doesn't mean I'm not a man!"
"No offense, Rob, but that speech would be more convincing,
if you weren't 5' --", 3x-2x-3x," Sally said.
"With 'The Greatest Legs in Show Business'!" Buddy added,
looking at same.
"Laura was named that at Camp Crowder," Rob said, eying him
suspiciously.
"So was an actress named Mary Tyler Moore when all you saw
were her legs in 'Richard Diamond, Private Investigator'," Sally
said.
"Who??" Rob asked.
"Hey, Rob!" Buddy said, swinging a hand out towards the
legs from the other side of the room, "Why don't you put on a
leotard!"
"At least put on some Capri pants," Sally said, pointing
with her pencil. "If I had legs like yours, I wouldn't waste them
wearing knee-hems."
"Laura put you up to this, didn't she?" Rob said, trying to
find the humor in the gag.
"Didn't we already do that angle in the episode with Danny
Thomas and the alien walnuts?" Sally said. "He thought he was
trapped in Laura's dream."
Buddy kept staring straight at Rob. "I don't care *whose*
dream it is! I want to see Rob in something more revealing!"
"Buddy! It isn't your dream," Sally said. "You can't get
them to do something, against their subconscious will."
"Oh, yeah!? Who says I'm not really the personification of
his less than noble side."
"Well, you got me there," Sally said. "If anybody's going
to represent a rat: You're it!"
"So, okay, Rob: Pop into a leotard!" Buddy practically
commanded.
"A leotard!? That's it?! Nothing 'less creative'?" Sally
asked.
"Hey, this is a family show," Buddy said, still not taking
his eyes off of Rob.
"That's it: I've *had* enough of this game. I will not
stand here, and-"
"Rob, didn't you first meet Laura when she was a dancer?!"
Buddy interrupted.
"I said, I'm not going to go along with any more! I might
as well go home. I'll get as much work there as--"
"Oh: Leotards!" Sally said. "They met while she was out in
public in leotards!"
"Rob!" Mel said, coming into the office.
"Rob is *not* here!" Rob said, unscissoring his hands,
trying to get out of the door the large man now blocked.
"Laura, I thought if you were here, then he'd be -How did
you know we were short a dancer?"
"Leotards!" Buddy said, standing up as he pointed.
"Yep, those are leotards," Sally said. She pivoted back in
her seat, "You were able to get his subconscious this far."
"Wait until you see what else I can get it to do!" he
grinned, rolling his eyeballs.
"I'm sorry, but I need Laura more than you do," Mel said,
taking the one he thought was Laura by the arm to escort her out.
"Mel, you're part of the plot, too!" Rob said, leaning away
from him, but allowing himself to be taken out of the office.
"Well, it looks as if you're not going to get that chance,
Mephistopheles," Sally said.
"This is a dream: I can pop up anywhere, anytime!"
"You do that. Me, I get paid whether I'm in an episode or
not."
***
"No!!" Laura bolted up in her bed.
She looked around. "It was *my* dream??"
She put her hand to her head. "No wonder Rob didn't mind
being in a dress or leotard."
Shaken, but relieved, Laura looked over to the other bed.
Rob was tossing and turning.
"Rob! Rob!! Wake up! It's just a nightmare!" she said,
getting out of bed. "Wake up and keep me company!"
"No... no. Please, girls... I can't," Rob started mumbling
in his sleep. "I can't go... I'm a married, married, well,
well... No! Not here!" his voice suddenly came up to speaking
loudness. "*You* use the dressing room! I'll, just, just-"
"Rob! Rob!! You're not dreaming you're a dancer, too!?!"
Laura cried, rocking him harder.
Rob woke up in time to stop himself from being pushed over
onto the floor. "What?!!"
"Laura?!" he said, looking over his shoulder. "Is that
you?!"
"Of course it's me!" she said. "Who did you think it was?!
No! Don't answer that."
"Oh, Laura: You were right! I did have a nightmare over
that dumb movie!" He rolled back on the bed.
"Me, too!" Laura said, fighting back the urge to cry from
relief.
"It was so real. But, yet, so..."
"Sophomoric?"
"Yeah. I'm ashamed I would come up with dreams like that."
"I had the same kind of dream!" she tried to assure him.
"But you, you're not a professional writer."
"Well, you *didn't* write it. You're too good of a writer
to have even tried.
"I couldn't have gotten it on TV, anyway," he smiled,
sitting up.
"See what a smart husband I married," she smiled at him.
"You stick with things that Richie and I can watch."
"Like girls in skimpy costumes?" he said with a mischievous
twinkle in his eyes that fought off his post-nightmare creeps.
"Girls in skimpy costumes have always been a part of show
business."
"I know," he smiled, looking at her, and remembering their
days at Camp Crowder.
"Anyway, all the other variety shows have girls like that
on them," she became just a bit shy, with just a trace of
jealousy.
"So: If shows started having girls in *less* than skimpy
costumes, and talking about their love lives...."
"*Then* I'd say you go back to radio."
"(Ha, ha) That's *one* way to keep me from being
controversial," he said while getting up.
"Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom."
"Not before me! I got up before you!" she hurried to round
his bed.
"But I'm nearer!" he smiled, stretching his tall lean form
backwards just enough to tease her as he stood on its brink.
"Ro-ob! I need to go more!"
"Which is why I should go first," he answered just before
he closed the door. "Women take longer."
"Not necessarily!" she promised.
There was no reply.
"Rob?!" she asked.
There was still none.
The door opened.
Out came Laura.
"Does this mean we're still dreaming?" Rob asked from where
Laura was standing.
It could be continued.
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