With news that Wonder Woman is set to make an appearance alongside Batman in the Man of Steel sequel, here at Frood we have developed a second pitch (first pitch here). Warner Bros, drop us a line and we’ll get a treatment together…
Light-dappled waves kissed the shores, caressed them even. A gentle breeze took the edge off the heat. Paradise. She took a sip of her long drink (such an elegant glass) and allowed her mind to drift.
With fire in his eyes and ice on his tongue he was possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, tall and dark and handsome. She blushed involuntarily in sudden embarrassment at her soppiness. But he’d literally swept her off her feet. He’d promised her the Earth and she believed he could deliver; when they’d made love he’d been gentle and caring, attentive to her every need. And afterwards he’d bathed her in a warm glow, holding her in his rippling arms until dawn.
She sighed despite herself – he was such a simple, sensitive man, maybe the perfect man – a good listener (incredible hearing come to think of it), handy. She found herself increasingly day-dreaming of raising a family with him: he’d be an excellent father, the best anyone could hope for.
She arched her back and stretched languidly, gracefully, enjoying the feeling (he’s really got under my skin).
Better call Steve, she thought, what can I say: I’m sorry, Steve, it’s not gonna’ work out Steve. I’ve loved being with you, and I loved you from the moment I rescued you from your plane crash. But even though I love you I’m no longer in love with you. The truth is I’ve met someone and he…well, he isn’t you.
No, too cruel. But what then: it isn’t you it’s me? I’m not ready to settle down with you because I’ve not settled down with me yet; I don’t know who I’m going to be yet? Yuck.
And anyway, it wouldn’t be quite true. Because she hadn’t just met someone – she’d met someones. Plural.
She’d met him first, just the other week in fact. He was suave and dignified, sophisticated with an arrogant streak a mile wide. Oh he’d swaggered about like he owned the place (he probably did come to think of it), but she’d sensed a shyness in him, a little boy lost hiding underneath the $10,000 suit and expensive manicure. So complex, so intriguing. Potent mix.
They’d gone for dinner, somewhere fancy, but she wasn’t interested in the money, had enough of her own. He’d ordered for her (control freak?), which she normally hated but he’d been right on the money; she couldn’t have done better herself. He was a good detective, he said, could read people, like a gift, like it was no big thing. That arrogance again, but delivered with enough smooth charm that she found she didn’t mind.
He’d walked her to her hotel – streets aren’t safe, he said. She’d laughed internally at that, she was pretty confident that if anything the streets weren’t safe from her. But it was touching in an old-fashioned sort of way. And he clearly adored the city.
She’d made her mind up by the time they reached the hotel. But then his shyness reared up – is he not used to this sort of thing? He’d held the door for her and she’d thought does he really think we’re here for coffee?
But then he’d, well he’d ravished her, like a pirate in one of those stupid romance novels. It was quick and dirty and sexy as hell. Not very feminist of you, Di, she thought; a man who took what he wanted like that, who hadn’t treated her like a goddess like men usually did. But boy did it work…
She found herself blushing again from the memory.
Which reminded her, she was seeing him tonight. Better make sure she hadn’t double-booked and agreed to see farm-boy too – this dating two men was exhausting. But she couldn’t decide between them and in her more honest moments she admitted to herself that she was having too much fun to stop.
Her phone rang: he had a helicopter coming to pick her up in an hour (they were going to the opera so dress nice). Shit she found him sexy. She sighed, despite herself.
Miles away ‘farm-boy’s’ brow furrowed. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d heard, but he was uneasy. Don’t jump to any conclusions. But even if you’re right, he thought, I’m a good man with a good heart; I’ve as good a chance as anyone.
Meanwhile in the gloomy, subterranean depths Batman smiled wickedly in the green glow of a computer screen.
Kal-El, this means war.
__
But on second thoughts the studio will have second thoughts about this pitch – there’s only one Wonder Woman after all, which means one of Batman or Superman will lose. And that can’t happen, because you need a draw (and it’s a cop-out if she decides to go back to wussy Steve in the end having learned the value of reality over fantasy, vomit).
So here’s the shock twist (it doesn’t matter that it makes no sense, just go with it) – it turns out that Batman and Superman are actually dating different incarnations of Wonder Woman from different Earth-Nos so they both win! Just like in that R Kelly/Usher music video!!!
For her part, Wonder Woman expresses her dismay to the studio execs that by now we should have moved beyond the notion that women are chattels to be bartered or otherwise exist for men to compete over them. Surely in this day and age she should be more than just a plot device? But the producers told her not to worry her pretty little head over it and get back in the kitchen where she belongs. Cos’ she’s really good at all that baking and stuff and the men are sure gonna’ be hungry soon.
So she kills them.
The end.
froodian pseudoanalysis 