by Larry Doyle
Is this the smoking “naked sword” of which Fiedler wrote, or was the whole episode, as Jim claims, just an adolescent wet dream? Any suggestion of the latter is dispelled the very next night, when Huck and Jim are separated for many hours in a dense fog. In the published work, Huck describes feeling “dismal and lonesome,” and when finally reunited with Jim, Jim exclaims:
Goodness gracious, is dat you, Huck?… It’s too good for true, honey, it’s too good for true. Lemme look at you, chile, lemme feel o’ you…
Huck, however, cannot resist playing a boyish prank on Jim, pretending the entire separation has been a dream.19 This precipitates what is probably the most famous lovers’ tiff in literary history:
“… En when I wake up en fine you back agin, all safe en soun’, de tears come en I could a got down on my knees en kiss yo’ foot20 I’s so thankful. En all you wuz thinkin ’bout wuz how you could make a fool uv ole Jim wid a lie…”
Then he got up slow, and walked to the wigwam, and went in there, without saying anything but that. But that was enough. It made me feel so mean I could almost kissed his foot21 to get him to take it22 back.
It was fifteen minutes before I could work myself up to go and humble myself to a nigger—but I done it, and I warn’t ever sorry for it afterwards, neither.
Clearly, then, the lost Dream Sequence is an integral, some might say crucial, event in Huck’s coming-of-age. But if so, why was it omitted? Sadly, the fault may lie with this very magazine. A search behind our files has turned up the following undated letter written to Twain by editor Schuyler Livingston Newburyport Schenk, probably between late summer or early fall 1876.
Dear Sam,
Thank you for sending along the most recent installment of “A Boy and His Boy,” but I am afraid we are going to have to pass on this one. I know we asked you to “spice it up a bit,” but some of us here felt that perhaps you stepped over the line separating spice from perversion. I am sorry to disappoint you.
I do, however, have one suggestion, and please feel free to disregard it if it is not in keeping with what you intended for this piece. We thought that perhaps this sequence would work better, and be more palatable to our readers, if Nigger Jim were instead a Negress Jemima. It is our feeling that if you made the switch now, very few readers would notice, and you could revise the earlier installments accordingly should you ever wish to put this together as a book.
Please let me know what you think.
All the best.
Twain immediately broke off correspondence with Sire and put the manuscript aside for nearly two years. Unable to write, he traveled to Europe, where he struck up a friendship with a Viennese medical intern named Sigmund Freud. A series of long conversations with the young physician apparently freed Twain of his writer’s block, and he returned to America, eager to “finish that damnable book, and make it Huck’s, not my own.”23
Of course, by that time he was well behind in his deadlines for Sire,24 and was compelled to write the last twenty-eight chapters of Huckleberry Finn over a concentrated two-week period,25 giving the latter half of the book that “dashed-off” quality about which many critics have rightly complained.
Merriment
Let’s Talk About My New Movie
It’s about more than an alien invasion, or a big dance contest, although if you’re a fan of invading aliens or professional choreography you won’t be disappointed. It’s also a love story, born of deep space and lived on an underwater dance floor; and it’s about the characters: the hero, the babe, the bad guy, the black guy, the guy who was funny when he was on SNL, and others. More than anything, though, it’s about freedom—the idea of freedom as opposed to any specific exercise of it—and liberty, which is a different word from “liberal,” and about the special effects, which are more special than ever before, and Crest Whitestrips, which—spoiler alert—save humanity.
I hesitate to call it a remake, for legal reasons but also because what I think we’re doing here is not so much remaking or reimagining as reimagineering™, if I may coin and trademark a term. This is really a film for people who weren’t alive seven years ago to see the original, or who were drunk and barely remember it, or who can’t tell one movie from another anymore. It’s for all those people, and their dates.
Make no mistake: we’re not trying to replace the original, except in the marketplace. The original is still out there somewhere, in whatever form existed back then, as is the television show on which it was based, or its previous incarnation as a comic book inspired by a toy. The toy, of course, is no longer available, but we have a new toy, one that I am confident will prove to be not nearly as deadly, while retaining much of the original’s play value.
Some members of the media have pointed out that our story contains eerie parallels to the current situation, and that’s their job, I guess—to scare away potential moviegoers, at least when they’re not pawing through my garbage, their tiny red eyes caught in the glare of my security lights, their pointy yellow teeth flecked with coffee grounds and dripping rancid goo, possibly separated butter. But I digress.
I honestly can’t tell you how much of our movie is based on the current situation. I’m not an expert. But I can assure you our movie is far more entertaining than the current situation, whatever it may be. And that it was never our intention to take sides in any political debate, military conflict, or national catastrophe but simply to exploit these similarities in a positive way. Nor are we hoping that people will think about the movie once they leave the theater. The sooner they forget about it the better, because the DVD is coming out in two weeks.
I’d like to take a moment here to address these rumors about Kendra and me. Whatever we did or did not do, in whose trailer, together or in tandem, or at what angle, is between the two of us and a very small crew. In any case, my publicist has vehemently denied everything, and that’s good enough for me.
Whether Kendra is pregnant with my child, whether they’re twins and only one of them is mine, whether she’s actually carrying alien spawn in yet another eerie parallel to the film—that’s for her people to deny, vehemently, categorically, or otherwise. That sonogram on the Internet looks nothing like me, more like a peeled shrimp or that one camera guy.
As for the rumors about Jacob, what have you heard?
I won’t deny it was a tough shoot. There were some heated arguments on the set, with subsequent gunplay, but this is typical of any creative endeavor where there are a bunch of guns just left lying around.
In the end, I have to say, it was worth it. It’s an excellent entertainment product. Of course, I can’t take all of the credit. Much of that must contractually go to the director, as well as the lead actor and actress, their stunt and body doubles, the hair and makeup people, the incredible crew, everyone’s agents and managers, and the dozens of immensely talented writers who contributed words to the project. But when it comes to the triple-shot caramel macchiatos that kept the lead actor awake, the soy lattes that kept the lead actress from starving, and the black-with-three-Equals-and-not-the-same-goddamn-thing-in-a-different-packet that kept the director from screaming at everyone, I’d like to think I had some small part in that.
You Asked for It
We have an obligation, as broadcasters, to satisfy the appetites of the American public.
—Former Fox Television chairman Sandy Grushow
2
The Quest No-rules scavenger hunt in which contestants race to steal priceless artifacts from exotic foreign locales. Tonight: The Bones of Saint Matthew. Piracy
4
Pants on Fire Contestants with pants set on fire must race to douse their behinds in a single barrel full of water. Prankedy
5
Yesteryear One hundred contestants live in a small town where kids catch crawdads and egg creams cost a nickel; elimination determined by lottery. Competitive Nostalgia (TV-PG: Stonings)
7
Doghouse Husbands compete to do nice things for their wives.
Unscripted Domcom
13
Great Performances The New York Philharmonic performs music from popular YouTube videos.
CNN
Box Populi Ordinary people are offered the opportunity to punch newsmakers in the face. Tonight: Vice President Joe Biden. Public Service
CSPAN
Congress After Dark
DISCOVERY
Whoa, Science! Researchers burn ants with magnifying glass.
FOOD
Lingerie Models Eat Chocolate Cake with Their Hands
GAME
The Pain Game Contestants stab each other with shrimp forks.
LIFE
Adorable Babies
Nick
Bang! Kids shoot cats and stuff with semiautomatic weapons.
MSNBC
Capitol Buzz Elected officials give frank answers to viewers’ questions or receive increasingly painful electric shocks. Politcom
MTV
Totally Banned Videos Uncut versions of videos banned by MTV. Tonight: Lady Gaga’s “Taste My Ass.”
TLC
Corpus Celebri Autopsies of recently deceased celebrities or their victims. Morbidity
TRU
Spread the Wealth Mobs of contestants roam wealthy neighborhoods, beating residents for cash, jewelry, and other prizes. Rioting
WGN
Monkeys Fucking
The Larry Doyle Story As Told to Larry Doyle
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
LOS ANGELES, NEW YORK, and LONDON—“Laughing” Larry Doyle, in conjunction with LD Associates and LarDo Ltd., proudly announces that principal photography has begun on Laughing All the Way: The Larry Doyle Story, a major feature film based on the soon-to-be-released bestseller Laughing All the Way Home: My Own Story, written by Larry Doyle under a grant from the Larry Doyle Group.
The $200 million film is being produced and directed by Larry Doyle, who will play all the major roles in the film, with the exception of his best friend and sidekick, who will be played by Larry Doyle’s real life best friend and sidekick, to be announced.
Larry Doyle will also sing the title song, the achingly funny “Larry’s Laugh,” in a duet with himself harmonizing in a slightly higher register.
Larry Doyle’s acting-writing-directing-and-producing debut represents the first time more than $200 million has been spent on a comedy starring a novice in so many roles. But Larry-Doyle Artist Co., which has agreed to distribute LATW: The Larry Doyle Story, says it is confident the feature will earn back the $240 million even before it officially opens, “and if not, it has been an honor being part of this truly important—and very, very funny—film.”
All told, Larry Doyle will have sixty-three speaking roles in LATW: The Larry Doyle Story, and will appear in every scene an average of 7.8 times. Making these tour-de-“farce” performances possible will be HolosoftVR™, a soon-to-be-cutting-edge process that combines computer animation, holographics, and Muppetry. Unlike recent multiple-role comedies, which required the actors to respond to tennis balls on sticks, HolosoftVR™ will allow Larry Doyle to interact directly with adorable soft cotton copies of himself. While the technology—developed by Larry Doyle working with Henson’s Creatures Shop under a grant from the Department of Defense—is untested, sources on the set report the only difficulty so far has been Larry Doyle “cracking himselves up,” forcing some scenes to be reshot several times, albeit “each take funnier than the one before.”
In LATW: The Larry Doyle Story, Larry Doyle portrays himself at ages five, eight, twelve, sixteen, and as an adult—a particularly keen acting challenge, since his only previous acting experience was in an untitled Egyptian sketch in the fifth grade. But Larry Doyle more than rises to the occasion: using self-hypnosis, he regresses into each of his younger selves, and actually relives harrowing and heartwarming scenes from his childhood before the camera, still managing to find the essential funniness of each. To complete the cinematic transformation, the early Larry Doyle scenes are the first ever to be shot using Encephaloscope™, which selectively shrinks the head and the rest of the body, producing more childlike proportions. As evidence of Larry Doyle’s commitment to his craft, it should be noted that Encephaloscope™ is not a photographic process but a medical procedure.
Moreover, in order to prepare for the roles of his father and mother—Larry Doyle Sr. and Mrs. Larry Doyle—Larry Doyle reportedly spent twenty-eight years living with the couple, totally immersing himself in their lifestyle. A source close to the production reveals that Larry Doyle’s portrayal of his parents is “uncanny. It’s almost as if Larry Doyle is slowing becoming his father—and his mother, too.”
And finally, in what is sure to be a source of much controversy, Larry Doyle plays his own romantic interest in LATW: The Larry Doyle Story.
“I auditioned more than eight hundred actresses for the role,” Larry Doyle says, “and none of them had exactly what I needed.” Larry Doyle will not reveal how the love scenes in LATW: The Larry Doyle Story were photographed. “But I can tell you this,” he says. “They’re very funny—and they’re hot.”
LATW: The Larry Doyle Story will be released simultaneously in 5,200 theaters and 20,000 Red Boxes immediately upon completion. For the special-edition DVD, Larry Doyle will provide a fulllength track of himself laughing in the appropriate places.
FOR FURTHER INFORMATION OR TO HELP FINANCE THIS FILM, PLEASE CONTACT LARRY DOYLE AT (410) 664–2161. IF SOMEONE ELSE ANSWERS, SAY YOU HAVE A QUESTION ABOUT YOUR ACCOUNT.
Last of the Cro-Magnons
So [Flintstones director Brian] Levant recruited what he called an “all-star writing team”—TV buddies from shows like Family Ties, Night Court and Happy Days… Dubbed the Flintstone Eight, the group wrote a new draft … but it still wasn’t good enough. Four more roundtable sessions ensued, each of which was attended by new talent as well…
“It flips me out that there were so many writers, and on any other kind of movie it wouldn’t have worked,” says Dava Savel, the lone woman in her roundtable. Savel doesn’t know if anything she wrote made it onto the screen. “I have no idea if I have one line in there,” she says.
—Entertainment Weekly
A screeching comes across the sky.
Stately, plump Fred Flintstone stood upon the ’saur’s head, bearing a boulder of granite, on which a bird perched, its eyes crossed. An orange dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild Mesozoic air.
He held his shell aloft and intoned:
—Yabba dabba dooo!
Afoot and lighthearted, he took to the open road, healthy, free, the world before him, the long brown path before him leading back to Bedrock.
Fred repeating to himself, as he ran, the words of an old song:
Flintstones, meet the Flintstones,
Fred Flintstone never made a lot of money. His name was never in the tablets. He was not the finest cartoon character ever drawn. But he’s a Homo sapiens.
They’re the modern Stone Age family.
He is simply a human being, more or less.
From the town of Bedrock,
Stonecutter for the world, tool maker, stacker of meat, player with reptiles and the nation’s cave dwellers, balmy, gritty, growling, city of big boulders, Bedrock.
They’re a page right out of history.
It was the best of times, it was the first of times, it was the age of ice, it was the age of lava, it was the epoch of large sloping foreheads, it was the epoch of dictabirds and monkey traffic signals and woolly mammoth shower massages. All the modern inconveniences. He feels the wind on his ears, his heels hitting heavily on the gravel but with an effortless gathering out of a kind of sweet panic growing lighter and quicker and quieter, he runs. Ah: runs. Runs. Keep on truckin’. He outlives this day and comes safe home.
See Dino run. Run, Dino, run.
Let’s ride with the family down the street,
Let us go then, Hominidae, with the drive-in spread out against the sky, sid
e of piquant bronto ribs from the takeout.
Through the courtesy of Fred’s two feet.
What makes Fred run? Wilma, light of his life, fire of his loincloth. His sin, his soul. Wil-ma. Standing with her legs apart, she reminds Fred of Wondrock Woman.
When you’re with the Flintstones,
“Oh, Fred,” Wilma said, “we could have such a damned good time together.”
Have a yabba dabba doo time,
“Some fun!” Barney said.
A dabba doo time.
“Shut up, Barney,” Flintstone said.
You’ll have a gay old time.
Once again at midnight nearly, while Fred pondered weak and weary over many a quaint and chiseled tablet of prehistoric lore; while he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of something gently scratching, scratching at the cavern door.
Someday maybe Fred will win the fight
Nothing’s more determined than a cat of saber tooth—is there? Is there, baby?
And that cat will stay out for the night.
The door was slammed by a thrust of a claw, and then at last all was still. The house was locked, and he thought his stupid cook or the stupid maid must have locked the place up until he remembered the maid was a mastodon and the cook a wacky collection of labor-saurus devices. He pounded on the door, tried to force it with his shoulder; he shouted,
Willllll-maaaa!
And so he beat on, fists against the granite, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
An Open Letter to All Academy Members, Creative Artists, and Anyone Else Who Still Believes in Freedom of Expression