Your Princess is in Another Castle

by Richard Fore

  I palm a ping pong ball and have Pink blow it on for good luck like I was a high roller in a casino. And I still miss the shot. I get heat from the crowd, but Pink does not turn on me.

  Dwayne smirks and effortlessly but deliberately makes a shot into an everclear cup. The crowd erupts in shouts and applause.

  I pick up the cup. It smells terrible. But needing to maintain my cover I attempt to drink the entire cup in one mighty gulp as celebrated partiers like Thor or Spuds McKenzie would do.

  But I’m not a chugger. I spit out the everclear as soon as it hits my mouth and everyone begins laughing at me. I’m like Wile E. Coyote after walking over to a stack of TNT to see why it hadn’t gone off only to have it blow up in my face. But unlike the relentless Mr. Coyote, I’m capable of recognizing when a cause is lost. Revealed for what I am, I can’t even look Pink in the eye. Seth says something to me on my departure but I don’t hear him. But as I walk solemnly up the stairs I swear I hear Dwayne say beep beep.

  Chapter 12: Winners Don’t Use Drugs

  Scoop is Woody Allen’s thirty-sixth feature film, part romantic comedy and part murder mystery. It stars Scarlett Johansson and Hugh Jackman. Scarlett plays a journalism student who conducts an amateur investigation into the life of a wealthy aristocrat played by Jackman, who Scarlett suspects may be a serial killer.

  “I liked it,” says Chris, lounging in his bean bag chair.

  “What was your favorite scene?” I ask.

  “Hmm, well I guess my favorite scene would be when Scarlett Johansson was at the social club pool wearing that red swimsuit and giving herself a foot massage.”

  “I thought you’d like that. You know, this is actually Woody Allen’s second film featuring Scarlett Johansson. The first one is good, too. It’s called Match Point.”

  “Is there a not inconsiderable Scarlett foot presence in that film?”

  “I don’t really remember. The last time I watched it was before I’d have known to be on the lookout for such a presence. But Woody likes working with beautiful young women, so I expect more Allen and Johansson collaborations in the future.”

  “Then the future is bright indeed. And I’m glad you used Scoop as my introduction to Woody Allen. I hadn’t seen a film of his before because way back when he made that appearance at the Oscars he really offended me.”

  “How so?”

  “Remember how he was doing that comedic monologue? Well, one of his bits was him talking about his next film and how it was about a foot fetishist who falls in love with a professor who writes this paper on existential philosophy. And then Allen jokes that the guy is aroused by the professor’s footnotes. Get it? Talk about disrespect. Like foot fetishism is just one big joke to him, you know? I was really offended and it totally turned me off of Allen. I mean you’d think a guy who married his stepdaughter would be a little more tolerant of atypical sexual interests.”

  “Not to completely defend Woody, he did cheat on Mia Farrow with Soon-Yi after all, but he never actually married Mia. So Soon-Yi was never legally Woody Allen’s stepdaughter.”

  “Still, there was a lack of respect in Woody’s Oscar monologue. And we don’t have it easy, man. The media is always demonizing foot fetishists. Sometimes literally.”

  “Example?”

  “Ever see the movie Road Trip?”

  “No.”

  “Well, in the movie there’s a scene where Amy Smart is travelling by bus. She’s napping and has her bare feet dangling off her seat. This catches the attention of the guy sitting in front of her and he slowly creeps down and tries to suck on Amy’s big toe. Of course Amy wakes up and freaks out, understandably so. Then the guy offers to give Amy a foot massage which she angrily declines.

  “I mean it’s kind of a funny scene, but it also gives foot fetishists a bad image, like we can’t control ourselves, you know? And I guarantee you everyone would have found the guy grabbing Amy’s breast instead to have just been creepy and derogatory. But because it’s a foot fetish they can laugh at it.”

  “I see your point. I like Amy Smart, though. She was good in Crank.”

  “Yeah, she was. She has cute feet, too.”

  “So that’s an example of a lack of restraint. What about literal demonization?”

  “You’ve seen The Devil’s Advocate, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, remember that one scene where Keanu Reeves is having a dream where he’s having sex with his wife, Charlize Theron? In that dream sequence Charlize suddenly morphs into Connie Nielson, a lawyer who works with Keanu at the same law firm that’s run by the Devil. And Keanu’s sex with Connie is much rougher, more intense than sex with Charlize. Then Keanu starts sucking on Connie’s toes. And right after that, he gets a vision of Connie in her true form as a hellspawn. So, basically the filmmakers are saying toe sucking is one step away from being in league with Satan himself.”

  “I don’t think they were actually trying to send the message that toe sucking is a gateway to Satan worship. I think they just wanted to portray Connie Nielson as a dark temptress.”

  “Well, Keanu sure wasn’t doing any toe sucking when he was having good Christian sex with his wife, Charlize. So you can see why I’m anxious to see foot fetishism be portrayed positively in the media. A likeable, moral character needs to be shown having a foot fetish. Like maybe George Washington in a biopic film. You could have a scene where George sucks on Martha’s toes and have Martha be completely at ease with it, enjoying it even. And then later on maybe Washington could be swapping sex stories with Benedict Arnold who’d be disgusted by the idea.”

  “Why Washington?”

  “Because of all the founding fathers Washington was the only one who I know had a foot fetish. There’s an undercurrent to his writings that strongly suggests it. And I’m pretty sure Benjamin Franklin didn’t have one. But our community is making some progress towards tolerance now. I think Scarlett Johansson is helping to pave the way for mainstream foot fetish acceptance because her own are just so beautiful, which is why they’re always featured in her films so prominently. Don’t think Woody Allen didn’t notice them while he was making Scoop.”

  “Are Scarlett’s featured for an inordinate amount of screen time compared to those of other actresses? I mean, I’m a big Scarlett fan, but physically I’m always going to be focusing on her bust.”

  “See, that’s what makes this such a sad situation for guys like me. Guys like you being so preoccupied with Scarlett’s bust. You never focus on her feet even though they’re a gift Scarlett’s so adamant about sharing with her audience. Now the first film I can remember seeing Scarlett in was The Man Who Wasn’t There. I saw it at the theater, then I also bought it on DVD. One hour, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-six seconds into the film Scarlett is lying on her bed when she moves into a half omega position, which is having only one leg in the air while lying on your stomach instead of both. She’s also wearing socks in the scene. Now, normally the socks would kill it for me, but with Scarlett I could see beneath the socks. I could see how beautiful her feet were even when they were left under guard.

  “Then I started seeing all of Scarlett’s movies. Next I saw Ghost World. Twelve minutes, twenty-nine seconds into the DVD you’ll see Scarlett sitting on a bed again, only this time she spends eight seconds massaging her own feet. Now I know that wasn’t in the script. Scarlett improvised her self-administered foot rub because her feet were hurting. And it broke my heart to think that there was no one on set to rub Scarlett’s feet for her, and that maybe she didn’t have anyone in real life to do it for her, either. I started thinking how Scarlett must get so sick of guys always focusing on her chest when that isn’t the pair of extremities that actually merits time and attention.

  “But the best view of Scarlett’s feet comes from An American Rhapsody, although sadly it’s among her least known films. There’s a scene where Scarlett’s leaning back in a chair writing and she has her bare feet propped up on her bed. We’re treated to
an excellent, lingering close-up view of Scarlett’s soles. Now I don’t remember at precisely what point in the film they’re on screen because I actually use that sole screenshot as my desktop image.

  “And I know that baring Scarlett’s soles like that was a deliberate move on the director’s part. You don’t just do a sole close-up for no reason. And the director of An American Rhapsody was a woman. So it wasn’t even a sexual thing. The director just wanted to show off the beauty of Scarlett’s soles, purely in a beholding sense.”

  “What’s the movie about?” I ask.

  “I dunno, Scarlett plays an angst-ridden girl from Bosnia or something and struggles to fit into American life. It’s a good movie, though. But anyway, you can see that Scarlett showing off her feet is her own personal leitmotif. I just wish that more people would start realizing and appreciating it.

  “Now, I’m not saying that this is ever going to happen. That’s not what I’m saying. But if, and I mean if, I were say going to Comic-Con or something and Scarlett was one of the celebrity panelists, on the off chance that maybe we were to make eye contact, well, I think that Scarlett could see in my eyes that I could make her happy. That I could give her the foot massage that she’s always wanted but has never been given. I think that Scarlett’s been waiting for the Perfect Rub for a long time now and I know that I could give it to her. Again, I’m not saying that that’s actually going to happen, just that if our paths ever did happen to cross for one reason or another that Scarlett would know. Know what I could do for her.”

  Chris lets out a heavy sigh of futility as a mediator between Israel and Palestine might after another failed round of negotiations.

  “It’s alright,” I say. “I know how you feel. We all have our celebrity crushes. I’d love to be able to Eskimo kiss Amanda Bynes one day.”

  “I don’t understand your fascination with her at all, man. I mean she’s got nothing for you. Scarlett’s appeal for me is based on her perfection of the pedis, while Amanda is sorely lacking in mammary magnificence even without your extreme standards.”

  “Pedis?” I ask.

  “It’s the Latin word for feet. It’s where the word pedicure comes from. Pedicures were very big in ancient Rome. Caesar Augustus was fond of giving them to the women in his life. And he was a good emperor, not one of those despotic psychos, so that’s one more point for our side.”

  “Well, I think Amanda is adorable. And since you’re so into pedicures I think you’d like her if you gave her a chance. Amanda really enjoys being given a pedicure. I remember one time I was watching a show on MTV that was about a day in Amanda’s life and in it she goes and gets a pedicure. Some guy is giving it to her and she’s teasing him sweet-naturedly saying he must have a foot fetish since he gives pedicures for a living.”

  “That’s not a good-natured ribbing, man. Amanda shouldn’t be grilling anybody about that. I told you how bad regular guys have it. Quentin Tarantino and Joss Whedon can both flaunt their foot fetishes because they’re rich and famous. So maybe this poor professional pedicurist did have a foot fetish, but maybe he didn’t, and it wasn’t Amanda’s right to humiliate him on TV about it if he did. He probably hanged himself after that episode aired because he was so ridiculed over it.”

  “Oh come on, she was just being silly, Chris. Amanda might even appreciate a guy with a foot fetish. Then she wouldn’t have to go to a salon to pay for her pedicures.”

  “Even so, that doesn’t give her the right to go outing some poor guy on national TV.”

  “Well, if he’s a straight guy and he’s giving women pedicures for a living, him having a foot fetish isn’t really gonna be the hardest to reach spot on the old jump to conclusions mat, now is it?”

  “Nevertheless. A foot fetish is nothing to be ashamed of, but until the world at large understands that, people need to treat us with more respect.”

  “Since it’s been brought up, have you ever thought about becoming a pedicurist?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m too manly for that. Besides, it’s not like you get to pick and choose the feet you work on when you do that. You have to take whoever would happen to come in. And they’re definitely not all going to be Van Tassels. And more importantly, what I really want is to become some form of mediator. Work in conflict resolution as a university ombudsman, something like that. I’d like to be known as someone you can always count on to be fair and impartial in resolving disputes. To be someone known for their Solomon-like wisdom.

  “And having said that and considering I agreed to watch your movie and everything, why don’t you tell me what went down at that sorority party? All Seth would say is that you walked away from that sorority house in total despair just like Bruce Banner at the end of every episode of The Incredible Hulk.”

  “It was David Banner on the show.”

  “I ain’t calling him David. Never have, never will.”

  I give Chris a rundown of what happened last night at the Zeta Psi Mu house, ending the story with my spitting out the everclear. “It was like that scene in The Rock where Nicolas Cage shoves that sphere of VX poison gas into the bad guy’s mouth then socks him in the jaw and then the guy spits it out and starts dying horribly.”

  “A good death scene. But a bad party trick. ”

  “Yeah. So, I pretty much blew it. My cover was blown and I left the party in disgrace. I wasn’t able to accomplish anything as a bad boy.”

  “Of course you weren’t able to, man. Because you’re a winner.”

  “A winner?”

  “Yeah, a winner. The kind that would make William S. Sessions proud. A winner who doesn’t do drugs. Or drink. Or smoke. Or have premarital sex. Or do anything at all risqué. You were the kind of youngster those comic book ads used to try and recruit to sell grit. Clean cut, pure and innocent all the way.”

  “A grit kid,” I say running my hand across my now clean-shaven cheek, having no more use for a beard.

  “Exactly. You’re precisely the kind of young man mothers love. Remember when my parents were here last year and helped me move back into my dorm? Well, my mom fell in love with you in the short time she spent with you. Because she could sense that you’re a winner. The kind of guy mothers want their daughters to date, a guy who would lead young vulnerable girls not into temptation. If you were with a girl who wanted to put out, you’d try and talk her out of it.

  “You’re a non-threat, a good old-fashioned good boy who the Aunt Mays of the world are always going to love for your respectability. To pretend that you’re anything other than that is a lie that isn’t going to last. And there’s nothing wrong with that, man. Sabrina isn’t attracted to you because she thinks you’re this dangerous rebel without a cause who plays by his own rules.”

  “You’re right. I am a winner.”

  “You are indeed. But we’re both in it to win it tonight. So where are you taking Sabrina for your date?”

  “Well, we were supposed to be going out for pizza than seeing Casino Royale. But I’ve thought about just calling her and cancelling after what happened last night.”

  “Don’t do that, man. It’s like I just told you. A winner is you. And that’s what Sabrina wants in a guy. Search your feelings. You know this to be true. And don’t forget, so far this has all played out exactly as Jimmy said it would.”

  “I suppose you’re right. As was Jimmy, apparently. I guess I will go through with the date. After all, a winner must win.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that. And I’m sure we’d have seen Bond together already if it hadn’t come out the same weekend as the PlayStation 3. I want to see it too, but don’t worry, I won’t take Samantha there tonight and create an awkward situation where you bump into her. I don’t think she’d enjoy bumping into my asshole friend Justin, either.” Chris smiles at me.

  “Yeah,” I say. “So what are you two doing?”

  “I’m taking Samantha bowling. After that, I dunno.”

 
“You bowl?”

  “Not really, but remember, she likes to do something sporty. And you have to change your shoes in order to bowl. So there’ll be some transitory barefootedness for me to enjoy, and it’ll also be an opportunity for me to covertly check out the condition of Samantha’s soles. I didn’t get a chance to on our first date and I want to see what I have to work with so I don’t start falling for her only to find out she’s got like the darkest, ugliest soles in the world or something, you know?”

  “But if Samantha knows she’s going bowling isn’t she likely to already be wearing shoes with socks so that when she changes into the bowling shoes you won’t be seeing anything because of her socks?”

  “I anticipated that. That’s why I didn’t tell her we were going bowling. And Samantha’s a flip-flop girl anyway and it’s been unusually warm the past few days so I’m hoping luck is on my side and that she’ll show up wearing sandals. And I called the alley already to see if they sell socks for people who show up unprepared. They said they do.”

  “Well, aside from the gamble of her showing up in sandals you seem to have this pretty well thought out, I must admit.”

  “Yeah, I’m like the Machiavelli of foot fetishism. I just hope that if and when the time comes that Samantha will be okay with the fact that that’s what I like. And I’ll be pretty cautious about coming out to her. I’ll wait until the time is right. Now what about you, man? Are you nervous about tonight?”

  “No, after what happened last night I’m already prepared for the worst. Actually, I’m starting to feel a little excited. I have a real date with a real geeky girl. No need for any disguises or subterfuge. No cloak and dagger stuff. Just me the winner and my geeky date Sabrina out and about up to no good. Or up to only good, I guess would be the case.”

  “I’m excited, too. For you and for me. So are you carrying a condom in your wallet just in case?”