Everybody Dies [The Movie]

By George R. Blow

Megalomaniacal multi-billionaire Jerry Jones has made up his mind to produce a film, and sworn that it will win best picture at the oscars “come hell or high water”.
And hell and high water he gets! But is the movie really cursed, or is it a c.i.a., k.g.b. or al qaeda plot? Or has the former marine finally gone over the edge and embarked on a vengeful, murderous rampage?
lust! loathing! fear! greed! ego! Just how much worldwide drama and destruction can one film cause?! No matter how you look at it, life on planet earth will never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George R. Blow
• Release date: Aug 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476164489

George R. Blow

As an award-winning TV producer/director residing in New Orleans, Blow witnessed first hand the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. Deeply affected by the untimely deaths of several close friends and family members in the years following the storm, he determined to change course and pursue a more meaningful path in his life. Long a student of the inner journey, George found that making contentment his number one priority did not land him in a monastery or on top of a lonely mountain, but on the contrary made him much more productive and prosperous. He now speaks on the importance and practicality of an experience of unconditional peace."An experience of peace is the most practical thing there is. It helps you eliminate waste, perform at your peak and usher worldly prosperity into your life. More than that, it fulfills every human being's fundamental desire to enjoy and appreciate this life as a gift." GRB

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Everybody Dies

[The Movie]

By George R. Blow

All rights reserved. Published by George R. Blow at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 George R. Blow

Discover other titles by George R. Blow at Smashwords.com:

Peace is Practical (How the Inner Journey Can Transform the Outer) -

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/29746

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission from the author.

Interior layout and cover design: George R. Blow

Dedicated to my parents, Kathy, Joyce and all the people who love film

Table of Contents

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Part Two

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Part Three

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Part Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Part Five

Chapter Twenty-Seven

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Jerry Jones sighed contentedly, leaned back and swiveled his black leather recliner around towards his 50th story penthouse floor-to-ceiling windows. Gazing over the hazy Manhattan skyline, he subsequently performed two actions that were as rare for him as a politician telling the truth during an election year. First, he powered down his iPhone. Then he allowed himself the faintest smile.

It was finally going to happen. The script was written and his favorite director signed, as well as five of the biggest stars on the planet. His career in movies had begun.

Though the names, dates and locations had been altered to create the illusion of fiction, this was going to be HIS story, the fantastic tale of a man who came from nothing and climbed to the top of the world. Now he was going to let everyone know just how he did it, how he used his supreme intelligence and tireless persistence to conquer every foe and achieve every goal he set for himself – both personally and professionally. This would be his crowning glory.

Jerry stood up, slid the glass doors onto the balcony open and stepped out into the strong, cold breeze. Then, as he had done in a similar fashion with every ambition in his life, he declared both to himself and the powers that be, this irrevocable vow, I, Jeremiah Jones, will not be satisfied, I will not be happy – yea, I WILL NOT SO MUCH AS SMILE until I have produced this film exactly as I envision it, and until I win an Oscar for the effort!

At that very moment the sun was eclipsed by a dark, fast-moving cloud and a sudden frigid gust of wind buffeted him against the railing, almost sending him tumbling 600 feet to his death. His hands first caught, then fiercely clutched, the top bar.

Suddenly enraged, he took a step backwards, clenched both his teeth and fists, and with a guttural roar lapsed into a defiant paroxysm of cries, which seized him like a violent series of sneezes, "I will NOT be denied! I will NOT BE DENIED! I WILL NOT BE DENIED!

Collapsed to his knees by the force of his own convulsions, he continued to rage against the angry heavens as they shuddered and boomed in ominous reply.

****

Marie was just a production assistant, but she knew she was destined for better things. Tightly hugged by her casual, but professional film gear, her delectable young body was like the fruit of a perfectly ripe mango waiting to be peeled, and she was not going to let that sweet moneymaker go to waste. She had many times predicted to all her friends that with her street savvy and irresistible charm, she would soon land a big fish. And there was no way she was going to settle for second best. She had talent and she would make it pay.

And as if arranged specifically for that purpose by her lucky moon sign, tomorrow she was going to be in Hollywood South, New Orleans, Louisiana, to begin shooting on a film produced by one of the richest men in the world, Mr. Jerry Jones. Not only was Mr. Jerry loaded, but he wasn’t bad looking for an older guy. Talk about a catch. But it would take some doing to grab his attention, what with all the starlets (and wanna-be starlets) on set.

She was sure she could do it, though. He came from the same place she did – the bottom - and she happened to look just like the photos she had seen of his first wife, who had dumped him before he hit the big time and left him broken-hearted. The clever P.A. figured that you don’t bother to badmouth someone you no longer care about, and years later he was still publicly brutal, borderline libelous, about the pretty blonde who had managed to lasso a Hollywood mogul shortly after their breakup. Bodacious Marie would offer the old man a chance to finally get it right with one of his own and forget that bourgeois ho-bag.

Standing in line waiting to get on her flight from St. Louis, she smiled seductively to herself. This would be her crowning glory.

****

Josie Baker put down her phone and gazed admiringly into her beautifully lit bathroom mirror. Her new lips were perfectly voluptuous – just what she had ordered. It sure was worth it shelling out the extra samolians to go with the best surgeon in Beverly Hills. At once a genetic and medical miracle, Josephine looked at least ten years younger than she rightfully should, if not fifteen. And now, after a brief sabbatical (suggested both by her shrink and her A.A. counselor) she was going to put herself back in the limelight as Mr. Jerry Jones’ femme fatale!

Edward, her current boy-toy and live-in lover, was going to be sooo jealous.

Poor thing, the screen legend said to herself as she applied her lipstick, Oh well, Ed’s going to have to learn the ways of the world sooner or later. What does he have going for him other than a great body and a bit part in a soap opera? Compared to Jerry, he’s like a minnow next to a shark. Like it or lump it - that’s reality baby!

Josephine’s excitement was magnified by the fact that she absolutely adored New Orleans, where she had closed many a bar in her younger years. But she wouldn’t be showing her pretties for beads this time around. They had cost way too much for a free show.

Isabella!! Josephine called out through the massive bedroom and into the hallway. Isabella darling!!!!

Isabella, a rather pudgy Latina maid who had somehow managed to escape the mortal perils of Juarez, Mexico, and so was always happy to be called for by her wealthy gringa employer, came running down the hall.

Si, señora!

Isabella, I have some exciting news for you! she sang as her favorite servant trundled breathlessly into the bathroom.

Si, señora? Isabella responded expectantly.

We’re going to New Orleans!

Que LINDA, señora Baker!

And I’m going to star in Mr. Jones’ first film! You remember that fling we had some years ago, don’t you?

Oh si, señora Baker! I so happy for you. I tell you he like you da bes. Dose other women was jus putas!

Thank god you’re always right, Isabella. Now hurry up and get started packing my things. I will need to dress for every possible occasion.

Por supuesto, señora. Oh, I so happy for you! she said rushing out of the bathroom and towards the walk-in closet.

Josephine looked back into her magic looking glass and purred, This will be my crowning glory!

****

John Beckett hated Jerry Jones. And he hated himself for agreeing to direct his movie. For him, this was going to be hell on earth, because he knew that Jones was going to interfere every step of the way and probably fire him half way through.

But he had to take it. The money was just too good and his ex-wife was legally draining him of every cent he had ever made. Of course, this was all his fault. He should have never touched that cute P.A., much less had an ongoing affair with her. He repeatedly kicked himself for his foolishness. I mean, if you’re going to flush your marriage down the toilet, at least do it for a star, right? She might lend you a hand between projects.

So he detested himself for that too.

His reasons for hating Mr. Jones were threefold. First of all, he didn’t like greedy, bombastic right-wing capitalists and J.J. was the worst. Secondly, he hated rich people with no talent who fancy themselves grands artistes. And thirdly, his ex-wife had always been crazy about the jerk.

Funnily enough, however, he kind of liked the screenplay. Of course it had been ghost written by a top Hollywood scriptwriter and so was corny as hell (nothing close to the truth about the bastard’s life), but it could work. The main character was a straight shooter who badmouths pretty much everyone from the president to illegal immigrants, and (as someone who never had that kind of guts) Beckett secretly admired him. The protagonist was like an old-time cowboy in the modern international corporate world with something close to supernatural powers. He conquers it without showing any respect for it, kind of like a young Ali, whose arrogance was so off the charts that it was charming.

So he’d just have to eat a lot of shit and pray that it end one day. It certainly wouldn’t be his crowning glory. But it sure would pay a lot of alimony.

****

Brent Sable didn’t hate Jerry Jones. In fact, he didn’t really hate anybody. He was a lover, not a fighter, and what he loved above all else was money and women. Fate had smiled upon this handsome man of mediocre ability, and blessed him with and abundance of both.

He was lying next to a crystal clear pool in a private club in the Bahamas when he received the news from his agent that he had scored the starring role in Mr. Jones’ movie. Although he devoutly wished that he could stay forever right where he was, surrounded by bathing beauties who all wanted to sleep with him, he knew that his days as a heart throb were numbered and he had to take his opportunities when they presented themselves.

He always had. True, he was as lazy as he was good-looking, but in a way he was just too lazy to say no to whatever life had in store for him. So, once