Pajama Party

READER’S DIGEST

My mother always told me to fumigate the soft, tawdry remains of indie rock’s authenticity, but I never listened to Mom. Now I’m in a band and miserable. But even that’s a lie. I’m not in a band. I just read websites. And make money for a living.


SAD MOVIE SPEC (after J.A.)

ACT I:

He was a lazy father who made documentary films. “I hope you never have to do anything for money,” he said to his children. “I have a one-man show coming up next month,” he said.

ACT II:

Three people buy a dog and laugh with it on their way home.

ACT III:

If you learn anything in life, then you’ve been lied to. Said the tree. (Camera should zoom in on children’s mouths, brows.)


20 UNUSUAL DEATHS

He kissed his moonlight reflection on the river, and drowned. He was covered in shit, eaten alive by dogs. He gorged on mercury. He roasted alive on a grill. “Turn me over,” he said, “I’m done on this side.” He had a horn pushed into his anus. He was sewn into his bed. He held his urine at the dinner table. He laughed. He ate a 14-course dinner. He was punched in the stomach. He was there when his equipment broke. He was hit by a stray fire extinguisher. He wouldn’t eat anything that wasn’t cooked by his wife. He walked into a helicopter. He stood too close to cacti. He exploded. He was wrong about the glass. He was trampled by hay. He was impaled by a statue. He was cooking something that was still alive.


Sebastian Castillo, 28, Philadelphia