“Wait … what the hell is this?”. I kept watching. “Oh, it’s Euro
porn. I mean … it must be, just look at that guy.”. Something still
wasn’t sitting well with me. “Hang on. It’s been over 15 minutes, and
no explicit fucking.”
A few more minutes pass. “Wow. What’s with this dialog. It sounds like
someone ran a Telemundo soap through translate dot google dot com.”
Finally, I had to laugh. “At least the chicks on Telemundo are hot.
What’s with this bitch? She’s fucking crazy.” Somehow I got sucked in.
Despite the horrible acting, despite *chocolate is the symbol of
love*, I kept watching. “Really? Oh hi Johnny, I didn’t know it was
you.” I cracked up. The old Tarzan in sunglasses gag! Hell, he kinda
looks like some kind of freaky Tarzan. Me Tarzan, you crazy fucked up
bitch who’s hot for that Kenny Loggins looking dude. The enigma that
is *The Room* continued to entertain me, and horrify me. It was like
the combination of driving by a car crash, and an open mic poetry
slam. Morbid fascination, funny at times, hard to watch … yet I
can’t look away.
“He’s trashing the place in slow motion. Is this guy on smack?” It’s
hysterical. Should it be? This bitch is driving him crazy. He humps
the dress. He eats the gun.
Back at the menu. I hit play again.
THE FOOK is a native of wonderful Westwego. He spends his spare time solving mysteries and driving his 1973 Lincoln Continental. In the 80’s he managed a Wild Pair where he fired Cousin Giacomo for deeply smelling a woman’s foot.
Leave a comment
No comments yet.