Avery Strange, Private Eye: Area 407 Review, Part Three

4 Oct

If business was as good as the special effects in The Thing, I’d have an office on Easy Street, getting hand-fed grapes by David DeCoteau. But instead, I have a hole in the wall on Fourth Avenue and a list of debts so long it’d trigger Sasha Grey’s gag reflex.

The name’s Avery Strange. I’m a reviewer.

When she walked in, I was halfway through the sixth cup of coffee and the fourth spinning the chamber of my revolver around and contemplating suicide while I whistle a merry tune. She didn’t knock- trouble never did.

“Hey,” she cooed in a breathy falsetto. “You Strange?”

“That’s what all the ladies call me.”

Whoever she was, she was six foot, three inches of drop dead gorgeous. Her blue eyes would make even the most jaded critic sprout two thumbs up, and her luscious blond hair was long enough to strangle a career with, or maybe a small rodent. Her full lips seemed to almost dance across my name as she breathed it, and she wore a little red dress that was tight in all the right places.

“Heh. You’re a funny guy,” she slowly stalked across my office, her eyes lazily tracing across my rat hole of an office. I felt almost self conscious, and started to consider that maybe I should have dusted, or at the very least, put the porno on the desk away. But I guess that’s what people expect to see in a reviewer’s office. Garbage medium is our bread and butter. And also, bread and butter is our bread and butter.

As she walked, she hips shook from side to side, sending shadows dancing across her terribly delightful rear end, which absolutely totally didn’t make me stare. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“So,” I interrupted the silence of her staring at all the Sharknado posters I have up, and me staring at her… curves. “Do you have a name?”

“Maybe,” Her languid eyes almost reminded me of a cat, hunting her prey. “I heard you can review anything.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I shot her my best ‘serious business’ stare and bared my teeth in a grin. Or maybe a grimace, or maybe it looked like I was threatening her. Any of them would work, really. “Lady, I’ve watched Trash Humpers, Paranormal Activity, and even ABCs Of Death without breaking a sweat.”

She arched her eyes in what was either a look of surprise or disbelief. Or maybe arousal. Okay, probably not that last one, people are rarely aroused over bad movies.

“Hmm. Maybe you’re better than I’ve heard.”

I grunted in affirmation. “What’s the job?”

The lady smiled like a predator, moving in for the kill. “Area 407.”

I gave a low whistle in appreciation. Area 407 had garnered a bit of notoriety in my line of work, but not in a good way. “That is… going to cost you.”

“Oh, I figured. You don’t exactly seem like the cheap type.”

“Tell that to everyone I’ve ever dated,” I pulled open my desk with a sigh, pushed aside some old dirty Kleenexes, and dragged out a threadbare notebook. “Pull up a chair, tell me what you can about the case.”

The lady’s poise was momentarily broken, and she chanced a fearful glance to the door before regaining her calm. “I… I’m not sure I should-”

I interrupted her with a stern glare. “Lady. I know some reviewers who would force you to watch Nukie tied to a chair, Clockwork Orange style just for suggesting this crap. Gimme the rundown, or I will toss you out of my office right on your well toned ass.”

The beauty seemed to pause, consider her options, and collapsed with a disgruntled groan in one of my old rotten office chairs. I flipped one end of my scarf over my shoulder, and raised an eyebrow to her while I waited for her to begin.

“So- okay, you know it’s found footage, right?”

“Obviously,” I sniffed.

She shook her head, and jumped in to her explanation. “It’s- it’s a plane, you see, it’s a plane full of survivors- and it crashed.”

“Well. Yeah, I mean, it does feature a big fuck-off airplane on the poster.”

“Oi, Ambassador Motherfucker, who’s telling this story?”

“… Sustained.”

“So after it crashes, about, oh, fifteen minutes in, we just get them… talking! Just a big bunch of boring ass people talking! And there’s… there’s nothing! There’s just ugly people having ugly conversations!”

“I… see. What happens next?”

“About forty minutes in- ” The lady looked away, almost embarrassed, and the blush brought a whole new dimension to her face. “… Dinosaurs show up.”

I dropped my pen. “Um. What.”

“Well- you know, not EXACTLY, we hardly get to see the fucking thing, but- yeah. They’re getting chased by dinosaurs. And so that’s the movie. Just people getting chased around my dinosaurs.”

I finally managed to fish the pen up from the ground, after taking the excuse of diving below my desk to see the lady’s gorgeous legs. “Does anything else happen?”

She sighed, pulled out a cigarette case from inside her cleavage, and grabbed two. “Got a light?”

I did, and as I offered it to her, she offered the other cigarette to me. I took it. I had a feeling I’d need it.

“They see some government guys after a while, but they refuse to rescue them from the dinosaurs or whatever. And then they argue, and more people die, rinse and repeat. It’s like the cinematic version of water-boarding.”

As the gorgeous lady talked, she sunk deeper and deeper in to her chair, with a sighing pout. It’s terrible to see anybody, especially a beauty being so miserable. And also, kind of hilarious. “How does it end?”

“Eventually, the two sisters are the last two left, and they manage to escape. But of course, they run into somebody evil from the government, who guns them down. And then the dinosaur eats him. Roll credits.”

The sound of her tearing up was the only sound in my office. You could hear a pin fall. If I didn’t have shag carpeting, I mean.

“So- do you think you can do this? Can you possibly review Area 407, Avery Strange?” She flashed a hopeful, tentative smile.

I hate saying “no” to beautiful women talking about dinosaurs.

“Maybe. If I get creative… maybe interject some kind of narrative in to it? A parody of noir stories, perhaps…”

The awkward silence that followed well in to the night.

[Completely random and unrelated to Area 407? Maybe, but I call it “the best review I’ve ever written”.]

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