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Sandra Bullock couldn’t sleep. The air was filled with unfamiliar sounds: a far away television set, the hum of the ice machine in the hallway, cars pulling in and out of the parking lot at all hours. Where were those cars going in the middle of the night? What do people whose worlds aren’t falling apart do? Back home, of course, the background noise was familiar, soothing even. There was the gurgle of the money-shaped hot tub, the almost imperceptible buzzing of the tract lights focused on her hand-crafted wall-mounted Oscar case (formerly her hand-crafted wall-mounted Golden Globe case), and the occasional grunt of Jesse doing military push ups, or the murmur as he recited his neo-Nazi oaths. All of that was gone now. If Jesse was still deriding the Jews or, his favorite, saying the names of motorcycle parts out loud, it wasn’t for her benefit. It was for the benefit of someone with a tramp stamp ON HER FUCKING FACE.
Outside, someone was screaming into a cell phone “well then YOU take mom to the hospital, my license is suspended anyway.” Sandra Bullock kicked off the sheets, grabbed her room key, and wandered through the halls of the Extended Stay America in her Juicy Couture sweatsuit and Juicy Couture sunglasses. Her Juicy Couture slippers left tear-stained footprints in the carpeting. She ran a hand along the wall, and in the other hand she carried a half-empty bottle of Juicy Couture peach vodka.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t known about Jesse’s cheating. She had always assumed it was the same sort of trouble any couple ran into if they stayed together long enough. As Meryl would say, some husbands cheat, and some husbands sell the children for a cigarette boat, the important thing is NO PHOTOS. It had been years since Julia Roberts had laid a hand on her shoulder and said “do what it takes to stay together, Sandy. If he wants you to put cocaine all over down there, then you put cocaine all over. And if he gets into knife stuff, hire a Thai girl.” She had put cocaine all over. She had dressed up in the original Jerry Seinfeld bee costume from Bee Movie. She wasn’t crying over the dissolution of her marriage so much as she was crying over the public dissolution of her marriage. What right did anyone have to know her private business? Y’all?
There was a small, fluorescently-lit room at the end of the hall with vending machines and an icemaker. Sandra filled a plastic cup with ice for her vodka and tried to buy a Big Grab bag of Cool Ranch Dorito’s with her American Express Black Card. “Fucking thing,” she said. Suddenly, there was a faint sound coming from the other end of the hall. “WooooOOOOOOooOOOOOOO.” It was probably that piece of shit little girl in the Dora the Explorer pajamas that had been asking for autographs all week long and insisting that she loved Sandra in Flight Plan. The little asshole did the same thing every day, holding out her Official Jonas Brothers Autograph Book in her sweaty, sticky little hands. “You were my favorite in Grosse Pointe Blank,” she said one day. Sandra just signed every time she was asked. The last thing she needed right now was some headline about Sandra Bullock refusing to sign a mentally retarded girl’s autograph book.
“WooooOOOOOOOooooOOOOOOoooo.” It was closer now. Sandra felt her heart quicken in her chest. If things did go down, she just hoped that those three months of Women’s Tae Bo in 2003 had been enough for her to ward off her attacker.
And then she saw it. The Boner Ghost. Oh, Sandra Bullock had heard the stories, but she’d never actually believed any of it. A boner ghost? Here? At the Extended Stay America near the Burbank airport? Come on. And yet. The Boner Ghost had a towel over its face, and its pale arms spread before it. Of course, Sandra knew from the legends that it was best to just let the boner ghost have sex with you, rather than making it mad. Wasn’t that just what she needed right now, some tabloid headline, some TMZ blog, Oscar Sandra Bullock Has Revenge Sex With Boner Ghost In Extended Stay America. No sir. No mister. She put her hands on her hips and flicked her head to get the bangs out of her eyes. She pointed a thin, bony skeleton finger right in the Boner Ghost’s face.
“I don’t know what you want with me specter, but you sassed with the wrong firecracker, now why don’t you turn around and move on down the road.”
The Boner Ghost stood where he was, his arms straining forward. Sandra Bullock pursed her lips. Unh-unh. No. The Boner Ghost took a step forward. Sandra Bullock stood her ground. She clenched her hands into fists, the sharp bones rubbing against each other through her paper-thin skin. “I have been going through a real trying time, Boner Ghost, a real hogswallow, and I just don’t even know if I’ve got it me to fight you. But I will. I’ll give you a whallop you won’t soon forget, Boner Ghost.” But still the Boner Ghost persisted, with his pallid arms and his low moan. Sandra Bullock closed her eyes and reared her fist back, but before she could deliver a punch, she felt herself enveloped. She was being embraced by the Boner Ghost!
“Oh girlfriend, hush,” the Boner Ghost said. “WooooOOOOOOOooooOOOO. Tell Boner Ghost what’s the matter. WooooOOOOOOOooooooo.”
Sandra Bullock and the Boner Ghost stayed up until dawn, drinking and taking turns crying and laughing and sharing their stories. It turned out that his boner was bigger than his bite. Sandra Bullock fell asleep in his arms, and when she woke up, the Boner Ghost was gone. But she knew he had been real, because that day she got a Facebook friend request from him.
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This is great fun and all, but I’d love to see what James Franco could do with this premise.
“The Ghost was beige, but the boner made hime boner colored.”
I’m sorry, I’m just really stuck on that line.
Belated alternate joke: A Perfect Day for Boner Ghosts.
My exact thoughts. After mistakenly thinking James Franco’s actual writing was written by Gabe to mock the crude stylings of a “hollywood type”, I was really hoping to finally see what an actual Gabe parody of James Franco, man of letters, would look like. Too bad it will already be old news by next weeks YCMIU. I guess I can take some solace in imagining the unlikely, but nevertheless possible, occurrence that Sandra Bullock will come across this and, lacking any previous exposure to just who this boner ghost character is, will be even more perplexed and horrified than she otherwise would be by this post.
You Can Make It Up: “Paper Dolls” By James Franco
That is also one of the best YCMIUs ever. As I noted back in the days when I was commenting as “Liner Notes Danny,” it completely nails the awfulness of what passes for literary fiction.
And yet.
As I noted today, wearing my crown as the Cultural Underpinnings Face King, “Paper Dolls” is actually LESS EMBARRASSING than the ACTUAL STORY that ACTUAL JAMES FRANCO ACTUALLY FUCKING WROTE. If the obscure homosexual literary journal that I sent my last short story to turns it down, I am going to completely give up on the World of Letters and publish my fiction here in the Videogum comments, asking only for upvotes in exchange.
I would support Frustrated-Writer-Gum Publishing Concern, LLC, and upvote all your contributions thereto.
Can someone explain to me what’s going on with James Franco? What, did he write weird horror fiction involving an undeserved Oscar winner too?
He went to Columbia for his MFA in creative writing, and then he got a book deal for his collection of short stories, and then his new story is in the latest Esquire, and it is SO MUCH WORSE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE.
Oh god. Now I am compelled to read it. Then I will go work on my unfinished play and mourn MY UNSUNG GENIUS.
Oh my god, Cultural Underpinnings Face King. This is so, so much worse than anything I could have imagined. Oh. Oh my god.
My sixth grade self wrote better fiction than this and I wrote about a girl who battled a lion-demon from atop her talking reindeer [no joke].
But James Franco is my man crush. Don’t taint him!
HAH! James Franco’s man taint.
Gabe, if you sold tickets to live readings of your fanfiction, I would buy all of the tickets.
And then, what? You’d give them out for free? You better not be planning to hoard those tickets. I will get into that live reading if I have to take you down, baby with headphones.
Its gonna be Tulip mania all over again!
Was this boner ghostwritten?
With Sandra Bullock as Gaby and Tracy Morgan as Jamal!
ghost boning the whip
It’s Tyler Perry’s Boner Ghost! Boner Ghost and Madea havin’ some conflict! Guess who plays Boner Ghost? (Hint: it is Tyler Perry)
not jack hughman?
No, Jack Human.
Hugh Jassman
“Coming this summer to your TV screens, Boner Ghost’s Oscar Psychiatry! Each week Boner Ghost goes to the homes of a Best Actress Oscar winner and comforts them… live!”
“Next week on Boner Ghosts’s Oscar Psychiatry, Boner Ghost helps Halle Berry overcome her woes by reminding her that by now everyone has forgotten about Catwoman”
I would much rather watch the Boner Ghost’s Oscar Special than Barbara Walters’ Oscar Special. At least the Boner Ghost would be thoughtful enough to carry kleenex with him at all times.
…and then, the hotel was no more. Instead, a fiery ball of flame, rising to the sky, whispering off of the foreheads of the crowd that was now staring at the shadow-colored remains at what was once lovingly known as the Extended Stay America, Burbank…
MACGRUBER!
Can we submit our own fan fiction to videogum for publication on the website?
You Can Make It Up: Steve Winwood Watches The Entire Series of LOST.
I was thinking something more along the lines of a little story with the Videogum monsters taking a field trip to the Monster Plantation Ride at Six Flags over Georgia. Have you been on this ride? It is amazing. You get in to this boat and go through an old mansion populated by anamatronic monsters set in the antebellum south days of yore. It’s great. They all speak in southern accents. This one sheriff monster warns you not to take the wrong turn or you will end up in Hell (biblical Hell I think), but of course you have no control over the direction the boat takes so (SPOILER ALERT) at the end he is there freaking out saying “dont go that way, nooooo” and you end up driving in to a giant demon mouth, and then you come out of the mansion and exit right near where you got on the ride. This is the official Videogum Monster ride.
I think we should just let Steve Winwood be Great. I am interested in reading this. If Gabe doesn’t see fit to publish it then you should just guerilla post it in a YCMIU.
what is a guerilla post? is that like hacking?
here’s video of the monster plantation ride: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn-LDsogdQs
That was…. MONSTROUS FUN!
First, I apologize to you for any Lost related replies to any of you comments I may have made at any point. You are now my favorite.
Second, this is unspeakable.
Third, so you go to hell and end up in an amusement park in Georgia–that makes sense.
Be great.
Steve, this is amazing. Can we be friends?
this sounds similar to disney’s splash mountain.
splash mountain gets very weird, you are sort of put through an acid trip. Not that I know what an acid trip is like, but…you know…I’m pretty sure acid trip=the “laughing place” during splash mountain.
I luv u, katydid.
I just came by to re-watch the boner ghost story (for the 24th time) and LOOK WHAT I FIND!
Somewhere the real Boner Ghost is chuckling gently. Wooo hee hee ooo.
Boner Ghost Does Hollywood. Coming Soon. Directed by James Nguyen. No seriously, for real. 2011.
I cracked up at “And yet.” Excellent literary device.
Best Two Word Sentence Ever.
And Boner Ghost proceeded to Make a Fan Page for Sandy, right after he went to the Doctor for his priapism.
“It turned out that his boner was bigger than his bite.” hahhhhahahahahahhahahaahaahahahahaaha
That was epic. The ending was one of the best I’ve read of these. That Facebook request as proof SLAYS me. SLAYAYAYAYAYAYS ME.
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speaking of ghosts, i think the ghost of michael jackson possessed sandra bullock’s face recently.
if it wasn’t recently, the question would be:
when is michael jackson’s ghost?
nice.
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