Trevor Heft's
Whole Truth 2
by Trevor Heft
In the
latest instalment of Trevor Heft’s Whole
Truth, our rather contrite correspondent finds
himself at the Las Vegas International Film
Festival, on the invite of a star on the rise.
Bright,
American sunlight cracks open the blinds. They
must cast their own invasive shade to the sky. It’s
almost impossible to avoid, but I try my best,
perched on the end of the actor Roger Pocket’s bed.
He reclines across a chaise longue, nibbling on
the end of a particular brand of candy cigarette,
one that room service had somehow hunted down. I
arrived not understanding why I’d been given
this gig, would you believe? I’ll leave very
much in the know…
“Do you
remember reviewing my first film, Mr Heft?”
he asks. I don’t, but I wouldn’t dare
say as much. No, I say nothing. “You will, I’m
sure. It was an adaptation of Adam & Eve?”
And then I do
remember – I remember describing it as,
“roundly, almost rotundly awful,” and,
“the cinematic equivalent of eating yoghurt
with a maxed credit card.” But more than
that, I remember that the leads were fully nude
throughout. I glance down at Roger’s pocket.
“You
described my performance as, ‘innovative,’”
he says, “do you remember that?” to
which I obviously nod. “Innovative, you said,
in that it requires 3D BINOCULARS to be
appreciated.” I glance at his groin, again,
then feign taking notes. I’m actually making
a sketch. “You said, ‘the audience are technically on
the edge of their seats,’ didn’t you?
You said, ‘they’re straining to see the
lead’s penis.’”
What I want to
say is that you get what you deserve when you
agree to a cinematic adaptation of Adam & Eve.
But instead, I show him my sketch, which includes
a taut, if not boxy six-pack.
“That’ll
do, pig,” he says, beginning a joyful
conversation about British cinema.
We bond to
such an extent that I’m present at his
drunken wedding later that evening. In fact, I’m
the best man! I butcher a cover of Can’t
Help Falling in Love. During my speech, I
make an Adam & Eve / Adam & Steve joke
that gets me thrown out of the reception (Irv’s
Burgers). When his then-wife tosses her homemade
bouquet (Irv’s Burger), I catch
it, and am then roundly, almost rotundly rejected
by the first seven women to pass, the eighth
briefly entertaining me, but ultimately proving
more interested in Roger and his microscopic
pocket.
I say then-wife
because she was quickly his wife no more, and now
makes love to someone else, I imagine, but only
in a very specific nightmare. Note, Roger met
four of his five ex-wives in different branches
of Irv’s Burgers. This one he met when I
introduced her as my fiancé.
Top guy, top
actor. Don’t believe everything you read. He
once told me that knob jokes are the lowest form
of wit. I said, “I’ll keep that in mind,
Oscar Wilde!” He doesn’t really have a
six-pack (Irv’s Burgers).
|
