Oscar Sunday Edition: A Short Story Told in Movie Titles

Before sunrise, the savages – the howling gangs of New York -- live free or die hard beneath the planet of the apes, this island, earth.

Welcome to the dollhouse from hell: A night at the Roxbury Fight Club. Fright Night. Disturbia.

There will be blood.

I spy the usual suspects: Freddy vs. Jason. Kramer vs. Kramer. Joe versus “The Volcano” Max Payne. Marty “The Wolf Man” Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, Lilo & Stich. Michael Clayton wrestling Ernest Hemmingway.

The main event? “Clash of the Titans:”

Me, myself, I… facing the enemy, the one and only champion, Charlie “King Kong” Cloverfield.

I am Sam – gladiator, slumdog, millionaire, the sum of all fears. I bury the living, traffic in cold blood I love trouble.

I am legend.

BANG! The strangers -- the unborn, frantic children of a lesser god -- rage apocalyptico!

Don’t look now: The dead zone – it’s alive!

Enter the dragon: King Kong lives.

Once upon a time in America, we were soldiers, step brothers, the King and I --dazed and confused, riding in cars with boys, being John Malkovich from dusk ‘till dawn, leaving Las Vegas, forgetting Sarah Marshall, chasing liberty -- finding Neverland.

That was then. This is now.

“I’M GONNA GIT YOU, SUCKA!” I, madman, shout.

“BRING IT ON, JACKASS!” The wrestler jaws.

Helter skelter, the king and I duel. I’m dancing as fast as I can, every which way but loose. Idle hands bounce in and out, sideways, up close and personal into the wild frenzy.

“Listen to me!” the King tremors. “I know what you did last summer.”

“Bulworth!”

“I never promised you a rose garden.”

“Liar! Liar!”

“Get smart! I still know what you did last summer.”

“Mamma Mia! Look who’s talking.”

“Look who’s talking… NOW!”

Here comes Mr. Jordan – the shining, unbreakable F.I.S.T., missing my little chickadee.

“It’s MY turn!” I, the jury, scream. “Analyze THIS!”

My giant fists of fury, “Jay” and “Silent Bob,” strike back!

CRASH! BOOM! Killshot.

My sweet Charlie… my bloody Valentine… gone, in 60 seconds.

When the screaming stops, two thousand maniacs rush the ring. A mighty wind echoes in the darkness, bringing down the house…

The day after tomorrow, far from the maddening crowd, I wake up screaming, home, alone, lost in America – Babylon, A.D., no country for old men.

Rules of the game?

Kiss the girls, bless the child, never cry wolf, never say die, never say never again. Love kills, hope floats, reality bites, diamonds are forever, and God created woman, long ago, tomorrow, when dinosaurs ruled the earth.

Sometimes a great notion shakes the clown deep in my heart.

Oh, brother, where art thou?

It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world.