The Tale of Todd

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I had an idea for a short film not so long ago about a guy named Todd, who works at a movie theater and tries to yawn while his boss is watching. It would be based around an alliterative narration which uses overly-flowery language to describe what is happening. I'm going to need some collaboration on this for sure. What follows is the first draft of the narration.


 


Todd tears tickets at the theater. Todd is not a terribly talented ticket taker, and is not terrifically thrilled to take tickets. He tells his friends that taking tickets is tantamount to tragedy, and therefore totally tiresome.


 


This portly pudgy person is Paul, the purveyor of passes to the picture show. Paul painstakingly pushes to prevent his people from portraying a picture of passivity as opposed to professionalism. Paramount in Paul’s psyche is the importance of perception, the prerogative to precipitate a pattern of proper place. Paul’s purpose, therefore, is to preside over his proletarians, and provide perpetual purpose for them. May the powers protect any person under Paul’s position who presumes to present a picture of impropriety.


 


Yikes! A yawn! Yearning to yell out like a yodeling yeti. The yawn yanks unyieldingly on Todd’s youthful yoke, and he yaws from the usual. Why?


 


Todd was stressed, since Paul said succinctly in a strict yet serpentine style, that should Todd show signs of sleepiness while slogging along in servitude, he would be swiftly and summarily scolded and sent packing. Our sheepish standard-bearer struggled, then, with the sudden soporific sensation of the yawn, certain that showing signs of slowing in his shift should ensure a storm from his strict supervisor. Todd strove to suppress his salacity to snooze, but soon sensed the strain would be sizable.


 


Todd raged against his restful rampallion, wrapped in a reticent round of wrestling, but rapidly realized he wasn’t ready for the wrath of his rival. The reign of remission in the region of Todd restricts rebellion of any rigor. But reasonably, this reckling could requisition the right to rule his own realm, and relinquish the requirement to recline. Todd reared a resourceful resolution to the row, resulting in the removal of his reputation as a rebrobate.


 


Lifting his left limb loftily, he let out a lethargic, low, “laaaaawwwww” which only a learned labiomancer would lament. Todd looked lickedy-split to learn whether his lark had been liturated.


 


Victory! Todd’s verisimilitude had been cast vicariously in view of the vigilant ventripotent vedette, and his ventilation had been veiled.

Created: Jan 06, 2012

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