George, it recently came to our attention that you have written a poem about Script Frenzy to be performed publicly. How did that come about?
I was at Bogart’s Books and Coffee, one of my favorite used bookstore and coffee shops in the known universe. I was having a discussion with Amy, the owner operator of said establishment, about Script Frenzy and asked her if I could hang a Script Frenzy flyer on her wall. “That’s cool!” Amy said, “Why don’t you come by on Sunday afternoon for the open mike poetry slam and you could announce it then – BETTER YET, you could do a poem!” Not long after, she hung the flyer and I started writing.
Will you share your poem here with your fellow participants?
Absolutely! Just please grab your Pepto-Bismol and maybe a hot water bottle. As I may have mentioned before, while it may be a poem, I didn’t say it was necessarily a good one.
Script Frenzy – The Poem
Man, that DVD was terrible!
That TV show as well
To view them both consecutively
Is like three hours in Hell.
It doesn’t get much better
Like that play I saw last week
The characters unfathomable
Didn’t the producers smell the reek?
What were the Writer’s thinking?
The director phoned it in
The actors? They just showed up too
The performance was a sin.
But hey, that’s life in Hollywood
On and Off Broadway too.
“For me – I’m just a watcher
I’ll let others do the do.”
NAY says I – tis I say nay
It does not have to be
Perhaps you have just missed your chance
Your opportunity
Now I don’t wish to argue
Nor do I wish to start a fight
I only wish to you welcome
In a brand new way to write
You see, I believe in STORY
And in the power of Words
I guess that YOU believe it to
Well, NOW is time YOU’RE heard
In April you will have your chance
To write a Script – perhaps a Play
It’ll be a hundred pages long
And it will be done in thirty days.
“But I’ve never written a screenplay
Nor play with dramatic twist!”
Well after April thirtieth
You can cross that off your list.
“But I don’t know the FORMAT
Or how a script becomes complete
And don’t even get me started
Those stage plays scream defeat.”
NAY says I – AGAIN say Nay
‘Tis not as hard as it appears
Writing is writing if you serve the TALE
Belay these unfounded fears
So tell you story – GET IT OUT
I know you have words to share
I bet you have a tale or two
Kicking around inside of there.
Script Frenzy is the vehicle
For your creative juice to flow
Thirty days, a hundred pages,
Get ready… set and GO.
Can you tell us a little about your plans for the Frenzy?
Up until very recently I wasn’t sure if I was doing a screenplay or a stage play. I’m now leaning towards a screenplay. I’m thinking Science Fiction. I’m thinking Hadron Collider. I’m thinking about writing a script in April and I am hoping to bring as many souls along with me as I can.
And finally, where did your user name Evil Chicken come from?
Long story short… I’m at a child’s birthday party with my wife and three daughters. There was cake, coffee, ice cream, and noise. Over the din this older woman, out of the blue, says, “Oh my Gawd! That little girl is gonna get hurt!” My wife and I exchanged glances, as if on some level we just knew that it had to be one of ours. I looked out the window and, sure enough, we were right. There I saw two figures facing each other: my 4 year-old daughter, Kathryn, and a 2.5-foot tall rooster. I pushed my way through the crowd to the doorway and descended the stairs. I put one hand out in front of me like a Jedi using the Force and said, “Honey… step away from the chicken.” No sooner had I uttered these words than my Kathryn assumed the Lou Ferrigno stance from The Incredible Hulk TV show and began to roar.
“GRRRR!” she said. Lou Ferrigno would have been proud.
The rooster was through with negotiations and decided to attack it’s human oppressor. He sprang into the air, talons raised at the ready to sink into my baby’s face. As a matter of instinct birds attack and go for the eyes of a potential predator. Remember that scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”? Well, Kathryn pulled back as the chicken struck - so instead of blinding her, the rooster inflicted two scratches on either side of her throat. I scooped up my baby, estimated the rate of descent of the chicken and kicked. My foot connected with the bird, launching it back into the air. It scurried away clucking curses in chickenese at my offspring and me. I carried Kathryn back to the steps and set her on her feet. She was shaking and breathing heavily. Her scratches were superficial.
“Man, that’s one evil chicken,” she said.
And that’s how I got the name.
