How badly do you want to own the shooting scripts of four of this year’s hottest Oscar contenders? Well, HOW BADLY?
We’ve got copies of “Black Swan,” “Inception,” “127 Hours” and “Toy Story 3” to give away this week. I should have saved that “tell me a story” thing for this, so instead, to riff on the Haiku contest, I thought I’d just be completely ridiculous and introduce a — wait for it — LIMERICK CONTEST!
That’s right, a limerick contest. In case you’re unaware of the qualities of a limerick, refresh yourself here. In a nutshell, though, five lines with an aabba rhyme scheme. For example:
There once was a guy with a blog
Who felt it a daily slog
But oh what fun
To almost be done
With a season that’s become a fog
Got it? Great. Now, for these, much like with the story contest, you have to include story elements from each of the four films above. But it doesn’t have to be specific characters, just situations and things like that, Have fun with the flavor. Remember who won the story contest, after all.
Now…go!
Comments
126 responses to “CONTEST: Screenplay giveaway!”
We’re all in the head of the sleeper,
And dancing ballet with the reaper.
Since toying with fate,
Has worked out so great,
Let’s all break our arms to go deeper…
Some people need to read these aloud to themselves before submitting them. Limericks have a particular rhythm that is sorely lacking from some of the entries, especially if certain lines are too long or too short. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but this tip might help people who have yet to submit their poems for the contest.
With tutu and form-fitting frock,
I dreamed I was one of the flock.
But soon took a fall,
Now like a rag doll,
I’m wedged between hard place, and rock.
Those dancers are awfully thin.
Their bones nearly poke through their skin.
They look just like toys
And move with such poise,
It looks like a dream they are in.
Two birds had a contrast of feather.
One white, one as blackened as leather.
They dream of some roles,
Then go down in holes
To toy with each other together.
Some toys in a nursery box
All dreamed of the day they’d outfox
Their owner, a dancer.
Escape was the answer!
Too bad they’re as mobile as rocks.
I’m stuck in a rocky crevasse.
This nightmare? I hope it will pass.
I swore that someday,
I’d toy with ballet!
I live, and I’m taking a class.
I once had a dream, but it’s scrapped.
Since now, I am hanging here trapped.
And though it’s alarming,
I’ve toyed with disarming.
No wing? I’ll just have to adapt.
I dreamed of a small silver top
That spun til it came to a stop –
Where with gleaming red eyes
A toy monkey spies
On a young man’s hand caught in a rock.
Weeping while coming of age
Or dancing to channel the rage,
Brings dreams to life
With the cut of a knife
And frees me from reality’s cage.
A dull knife and a box full of toys
Her only memories from Illinois
Wanted to dance lead in the show
But the director she wouldn’t blow
So she (BLACK OUT)
Andy’s toys started dreaming
of a black swan dancing and a overconfident man hiking
little did they know
that they wouldn’t be able to escape to the show
that is reality and living.
Acting can be wooden if you play Amidala.
But that’s what green screens can do to ‘ya.
Now she’s light years away.
Playing a swan in disarray.
Here’s hoping she wins Oscar over the lesbian mama.
I dreamed I was someone obsessional,
Sitting inside a confessional.
“Father? My sin:
Rock-hard Woody skin
These days when I watch ‘The Professional’.”
An Oscar’s a dream. That’s because
The actor who truly outdoes
All else in their grade
Will prance and parade
To new roles that rock with the Buzz.
A swan is an elegant bird.
No matter what cracks you have heard,
No dream of disorder
In their pecking order
Will cause fowl “play” in their herd.
My nightmares have gone on forever:
I toy with this hiking endeavor,
But since I can’t fly,
I’m soon a fall guy,
And then, it’s an arm I must sever.
Do I have it within me?
To embrace reality?
Let childish things go.
Amputate; Forget my woes.
Like a toy top spinning freely?
I feel like I’m fifty years older.
I’m limp like a doll to the shoulder.
The birds overhead
Have left me for dead.
My nightmare? This 20-ton boulder.
I find it quite bird-brained and odd
Our dreamed-up, “benevolent” god
Made me a plaything.
That’s why I’m facing
Hacking off chunks of my bod.
Crazier than cutting through bone, meat and skin
And more than Winona in the loony bin
More than psychotic bears
And intense Leo stares
Is how much poor ol’ Jim wants to win.
Jim’s desire to have others beat
May eclipse his [admitedly large] talent and wit
His approach while numerical
Can at times be hysterical
Still Bob’s entry was kind of neat
It’s true that back in the beginning,
I entered with high hopes of winning.
I still want to, but
The CHALLENGE is what
Has tacked on my odd extra inning.
So, sorry for my over-cramming.
Faint praise is endemically damning.
Some things just sound sweeter
With rhyme, and with meter!
But not if it seems like I’m spamming.
Dear Jim, please save your apology
We’ve created a limerick anthology
Kris will choose the rhyme
But in the meantime
Here’s to limerick addiction pathology.
Annnnd…scene. Thanks, guys. Lots to go through. I’ll announce the winner tomorrow.