The Ol’ Switcheroo

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir?”

“My brain is on fire!”

“I thought you said you were gonna quit huffing Dust-Off, sir.”

“No, not like that. Okay, also like that, but mostly the fire is made from pure ideas. You see, Jenkins, my brain is a farm.”

“A farm on fire?”

“The fire is a metaphor.”

“What about the farm?”

“Also a metaphor. I planted tiny nuggets of notions in there, you see. And now it is harvest-time, Jenkins. We will reap the beautiful flames we have grown on my brain-farm. You and I, Jenkins.”

“Give me the Dust-Off, sir.”

“Blast the Dust-Off and blast your eyes, Jenkins. My word, it’s been a while since I told you to do that.”

“Yes, sir. They’ve completely recovered.”

“Good, good. Then they’ll be up for the blasting they’re to now receive! Blast them, Jenkins.”

…

“Blasted, sir.”

“I hope you know that hurt you more than it did me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jenkins, is your sister still dead?”

“The brain-farm, sir.”

“Brain-farm! Yes, as I was saying: we’re going to make some movies. Well, re-make them.”

“Can’t we come up with our own stories, sir?”

“Come up with our own stories? How precisely do you suggest we do that? Shall we call for one like a pizza, Jenkins? Have the cat catch one? Perhaps a story is hiding in my credenza. Do you think that a story is hiding in my credenza?”

“No, sir.”

“Shall I check my credenza?”

“No, sir?”

“Do I even have a credenza?”

“The piece of furniture behind you.”

“Oh is that what that’s called?”

“Sir, the movies.”

“Movies! I have a million-dollar idea, Jenkins.”

“If we’re making movies, then a million-dollar idea really isn’t worth much any more.”

“Jenkins, I’ll slap your girlish mouth.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to take stories with all men and re-do them with all women. Gentrifying.”

“Genderswapping, sir.”

“No, no. Replacing one group with another to make money. Gentrifying.”

“Your malapropisms are a delight, sir.”

“Close your eyes, Jenkins. Close them tight and dream with me.”

“Are you going to slap my girlish mouth while my eyes are shut, sir?”

“I don’t need your eyes to be shut to do that.”

SLAP!

“See?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now close your blasted eyes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever seen RoboCop?”

“Many times, sir.”

“But what if RoboCop was a lady?”

“And?”

“And also the businessmen. They’d all be lady businessmen.”

“Okay. And?”

“I suppose the evil robot could be called EDNA-209.”

“No, what I meant was: why are we changing the characters’ genders?”

“Because we’re woke, Jenkins.”

“In a story sense, sir.”

“Woke story, too. RoboCop will fight crime and the patriarchy.”

“Sure. What about Nancy Allen? RoboCop’s partner. Is she going to be a man now?”

“Jenkins, do you even listen to yourself? Changing a female character to male? That’s whitewashing.”

“It isn’t.”

“I hope Twitter drags you into the Problem Attic. You should sleep there with Scott Baio and the Washington Redskins’ logo.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Patton.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“All-female Patton reboot. Cate Blanchett as Patton. Melissa McCarthy as General Bradley. Lupita Nyong’o as Rommel.”

“That’s terrible, sir.”

“Why do you hate equality, Jenkins?”

“Sir, Patton was a biographical picture. It was about a real guy.”

“So was RoboCop.”

“Did you have any other ideas, sir?”

“I wanted to try some of that fentanyl all the kids are talking about.”

“I’ll make a call, sir.”

“Goody.”