An Amateur Film Competition [FICTOID]

There was a multitude of entries, everything from a stop motion sci-fi epic set on an asteroid made of boysenberry jam to a rodent bobsled race to a reel of rusting buoys in Puget Sound.

Every idea received equal treatment in the competition, every film ca labor of love born out of dire poverty and even more dire desperation.

The judges drank heavily, of course; who could judge this sort of work sober, right?

They took turns pouring rot gut swill down their throats while the audience munched popcorn.

“Will you just leave us alone?” the eldest judge finally screamed, a tall handsome widow with a bright yellow spider tattoo.

“How can I leave you alone?” I asked.  “We’re all part of the same story, the same zeitgeist, the same -- “ 

“Showtime!” yelled the theater manager, and we all hit our spots, waiting for the call to action that never came.

© Buzz Dixon