Horsedance (Don't Steal This Again, Hollywood!)

Following some rather unexpected reactions to my stolen movie idea, Horsedance, I decided maybe I was wrong. Maybe there were enough differences between my little movie about a dancing horse and The Sixth Sense to make it worthwhile. Maybe what the world needs right now is a movie about a dancing horse. Having burned the original script years ago, I had to start fresh, but I think it's coming along nicely. Here's a sneak peek for my loyal blog readers. I don't want to toot my own horn, BUT. . .it's pretty amazing. Let me know what you think of this intro sequence:

EXT. DAY--CANHILL HORSE FARM

The world is fresh with promise. The rising sun casts a springtime glow on the small Pennsylvania farm. The camera pans to watch chickens pecking in the dirt. Pigs rolling around in the mud and doing piggish things. And finally, horses. One horse stands out from the others. This is HORSEY. He seems to shine. [insert CGI "shine" effect here]

We watch as two men approach the horse pen. They are wearing overalls and carrying buckets of oats. These two men are FRED CANHILL and JESSE DAVIS.

JESSE
This is a great farm, Fred. I'm sure glad you invited me to come work here.

FRED
Don't mention it, Jesse. When your mom passed away, it was the least I could do. [some ominous music plays on the soundtrack. We'll find out later that Fred actually killed Jesse's mom.]

FLASHBACK MONTAGE
We see Jesse and his mom running through an open field together, playing Connect Four, running through the ocean, playing Battleship.

EXT. DAY-CANHILL HORSE FARM (PRESENT)

JESSE (wiping tears)
These horses sure do like their oats, Fred. I wonder where oats come from?

FRED
Well, Jesse, [research where oats come from so Fred has something to say here]

JESSE
I'll be damned. I guess I thought they just grew up out of the ground. [change this if it turns out oats actually do just grow up from the ground]

The two men reach the horse pen. Fred starts to open up the gate, but stops, watching HORSEY with a suspicious eye.

FRED
You think the story of oats is fascinating, Jesse? Wait until you see this!

Fred snaps his fingers and Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" starts playing out of nowhere. The camera zooms in on HORSEY, who starts bobbing his head to the irresistible beat. After a moment, the other horses back away. HORSEY pulls out a top hat and stands up on his hind legs [CGI effect if this can't be done.]. He thrusts his right front hoof out in front of him and we see that he's wearing a silver sparkly glove. HORSEY starts dancing up a storm.

Jesse looks at the dancing horse and then back to Fred, his jaw wide open.

JESSE
That's what I call HORSEDANCE!

OPENING CREDITS ROLL OVER HORSEY'S DANCING

Things Found in Joaquin Phoenix's Beard

We at the Shark Tank have been following the Joaquin Phoenix actor-turned-rapper story with great interest. But there is one aspect of the situation that the mainstream media has failed to address. We are happy to pick up the slack.

Jason Voorhees' Father Speaks Out

Originally published in the Crystal Lake Clarion:


Killer's Father Condemns Murders, Sexual Promiscuity

Forest Green--The residents of Forest Green and Crystal Lake camp counselors have (slowly) learned that life in this area can be fleeting. This is of course due to one Jason Voorhees, the hockey-mask wearing super-serial killer who calls this land his own. While little is known about Voorhees, who has been thought dead on numerous occasions, even less is known about his family. While it is common knowledge that Voorhees' mother, Pamela, went on her own killing spree in the early eighties, few people know that Jason's father, Bill Voorhees, runs a model train shop on 3rd Street.

"I'm not looking for a lot of publicity," the elder Voorhees, 66, said. "I'm a simple man, love my trains is all." Love them he does. After divorcing Jason's mother following the tragic drowning of their son (the first of Jason's many deaths), he dove into his hobby with the zeal one can only muster after severe psychological scarring. "Here in the store we've got about thirty trains for sale, and several accessories," Voorhees says. "But the attic is where the real fun begins. There's a small cot, where I sleep, and the rest is dedicated to trains, trains, trains. Some people have accused me of spending too much time with them, but I reckon there's worse things I could be doing with my time."

Indeed, a look at his son's history in the area attests to that. When asked about his son's murderous rampages over the years, Voorhees grows reflective. "I don't suppose there's any need for all of that. People got a right to live and such. It wasn't how I raised the boy, but he was a twinge retarded." After pausing to apply a mild polish to a small red caboose, Voorhees continues. "I would say he's the worst scourge on the Crystal Lake community, but I'd have to save that title for all the wanton sex and marijuana use. This place is just rampant with teenage whoredom. If I had my way, any teenage couple found doing the deed in their car, or smoking a joint in a tent, would find themselves on the unlucky end of a foot long. . ." Voorhees trails off and sets the caboose down. "Citation from the police, is what I was going to say."