GS TV Spot 1

TELL YOUR DARLING THE SMELL OF SWEAT IS THAT OF DEATH. AND NOT THAT CUTE FRENCH “LITTLE DEATH.” – GENTLE SWELL™ BODY ODOR SUPPRESSOR

GS TV Spot 1

HCK

INTER-OFFICE MEMO

FROM: Jerry Kertzman, Creative Director

RE: New GS BOS TV Spot

Hey gang, here’s our brief for the new prime-time slot commersh. After last business team meeting Mr. Boseman has a royale H-On for targeting young, athletic, fit, successful well-groomed Millennials and R&D has determined Kung Fu is the GO-TO aesthetic for this demo.

FADE IN: EXTERIOR: aerial helicopter shot of some grand courtyard of a feudal medieval castle in Tibet or North Korea or Afghanistan or whatever with blazing crimson flags flying from high parapets or whatever. OK wait I just got the updated budget proposal-

FADE IN: Exterior, field out past Nissan dealership at Sauk Trail Exit on I57.

A large crowd, maybe a hundred, of young, athletic, fit, successful well-groomed men, all at least 18 and having signed requisite consent documents, indicating sound mind and body, especially body, and that they are not there against their will, has assembled in a battle arena situation. About a third of these hombres, let’s say, have these dense, thick mustaches. Only about 10 or 15 of these are ironic, like in a hipster way but the rest are totally genuine and sincere about it.

Anyway, all these guys are standing in a circle out under the blazing summer sun, just sweating, I mean fucking sweating, hard and fast, in thick, glistening rivulets, just gushing fucking buckets of salty runny rivers. Soaked Karate tunics. Mustaches plastered wet onto cheeks and chins. Backs of necks getting dirty and gritty.

Fast pan across this warrior lineup, these guys are snarling and mean, hot as hell and here to FIGHT!!!

In the center of this hot, sweating ring of humanity is the meanest, best-groomed motherfucker of the bunch, let’s call him PETE, bouncing and wagging his arms, facing off in a dance of death with none other than DAISY POISON BLADE, 8-time World Kung Fu Champion and creator of the “Coma Get It Sucker” fighting style, super hot right now with Tokyo parking garage teenagers and in Kentucky “Irish Pub” themed roadhouses all across the US. Pete is, of course, sweating more than anyone here, he looks like he’s basically just climbed out of a boiling pool – but Daisy – Daisy is as fresh, dry, and cool as, I don’t know, like a little powdered sugar cookie. Maybe a little snapdragon flower, YES, SHIT! like a delicate little snapdragon flower fresh from the florist’s fridge. HOLY SHIT, Pete charges her, fists churning in some kind of move, we’ll get a fight choreographer wait, ah shit ok we’ll watch some Jackie Chan movies the night before. Anyway Pete charges Daisy with all the fury and venom of a deadly, SWEATY, serpent train as Daisy – Daisy calmly, elegantly assumes position to perform her signature move – “TALK TO THE HAND.” Before Pete can land a single impotent, meager little pinky slap, Daisy rams the flat palm of her hand onto his sweaty face like a BRICK WALL, sending him backwards as if he was yanked by a bungee, which reminds me PLEASE tell me we can afford a fucking BUNGEE at least, guys.

SLAM!

We superimpose the fresh, newly redesigned GENTLE SWELL ™ BODY ODOR SUPPRESSOR logo right over Daisy’s triumphant dry face! Music cue is “Deadly Sinners” by 3 Inches of Blood. Jesus if we can afford it.

Anyway, okay guys, listen, we have to somehow communicate here, that at this moment, all the surrounding warriors ejaculate into their Karate pants simultaneously at the sight of Daisy’s finishing slam, at the sight of the new logo. I know, I know, we can’t overtly show this in prime time of course, but I was thinking like we can just pan across a few contorted sweating warrior faces and use some kind of crashing tidal wave sound effect, or like squeezing a mustard bottle

-JERRY!!

Or whoopee cushion

-JERRY!!

Ugh

-JERRY!! JERRY!!

Ma I’m busy in here!

-JERRY! ARE YOU WRITIN ON YOUR COMPUTA AGAIN JERRY? PRETENDING YOU WORK FOR A ADVERTISIN AGENCY AGAIN JERRY?

Ma please! I’ll be out in a minute! Can you give me

-YOU KNOW YOU NEED GOOD GRADES TO GET A JOB LIKE THAT SOMEDAY JERRY!

Aw Ma for god’s sake –

-YOU NEED TO GO TO COLLEGE LIKE YOUR BROTHER EUGENE AND GETTA DEGREE IF YOU WANT A CAREEEER JERRY!

Ma I will, I, please –

-EUGENE IS GONNA GET HIS DEGREE AND TAKE CAAARE A ME AND YOUR FATHA JERRY!! BUT I DON’T THINK HE PLANS TA SUPPORT YOU TOO JERRY –

Ma Eugene is getting a fucking degree in RAPPING!

– I KNOW JERRY AND RAPPERS ARE MILLIONARES! AND WATCH YOUR MOUTH JERRY –

Ma have you even HEARD EUGENE TRY TO RAP? –

Slam, stomp stomp stomp

Ah shit

-WHAT DA FUCK DID YOU SAY?

Ah shit

-DA FUUUCK DID YOU SAY?

-EUGENE SWEETY JERRY DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

-DA FUUUUUUCK DID YOU SAY LITTLE TWERP TURD FACE?

Eugene I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just trying to tell Ma that

-YOU FUCKING DISRESPECTIN ME AND YOU FUCKIN DISRESPECTIN MA, YOU LITTLE TURDMOUTH SHITLICKER!

Ah shit

Eugene’s fists are up, his face twisted with rage, eyes wide and ablaze. I feel the sweat begin to pour down my ribs and back and face, stinging my eyes.

-EUGENE NO!!! YOU’LL KILL HIM EUGENE!! OH MY LITTLE BABY JERRY!

But Ma’s impassioned pleas are useless. Eugene is blinded with fury now, sweating severely, lunging at me in a berserker frenzy, his fists churning like when Pete charged at Daisy – wait –

-I’M GOIN INSANE! STARTIN A HURRICANE! RELEASIN PAIN!

My god this is really happening, he’s going to kill me. I cough and choke, nearly drowning in my throatful of sweat.

-RIPPIN! KILLIN! DIGGIN AND DRILLIN A HOLE!

He froths like a rabid pitbull, fists just inches from my delicate sweaty jaw and nose and neck –

– Wait –

Somewhere deep inside, almost silently, a refrigerator door opens –

Talk to the Hand.

FREEZE.

– INTERIOR: My bedroom, sundown. Bands of dusty orange light stream in through my horizontal blinds. The camera sweeps, Matrix-like, through the frozen tableau:

EUGENE, young, athletic, fit, sweating copiously but well-groomed, is in mid-air, having hurled himself at me, JERRY. Thick droplets of sweat hang in the air around him, sticky thick ropes of sweat mingled with saliva stream out from his rictus of rage. In the doorway, hands clenched to her face, stifling a soul-rending scream, is MA. Sweat covers nearly every surface in the room, on my Dwayne Johnson Hercules posters, rippling the surface of my turtle tank like summer rain.

I am cowering, arms across face, fetal, on my boyhood bed, the sheets soaked dark with fear sweat, heat sweat.

A woman’s voice, cool. A tiny budding flower, in my ear-

-Talk to the Hand-

 

Close –up on my eyes as they open, charged with awareness, confidence.

 

-SLO-MO

I sit up on the bed. EUGENE’s deadly fists mere inches away.

I raise my arm, flatten my palm.

MA is howling JEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

TALK TO THE HAND!

SMASH TO REAL TIME

Like an 18 inch thick concrete wall, my palm shatters Eugene’s aquiline nose and lantern jaw, spraying a dense shower of hot snot, mucous, saliva, blood and sweat, oh god so much sweat, throughout the room. MA is drenched, knocked off her feet. The thick glass of my turtle tank shatters inward as Leo, Mikey, Raph and Donny are flushed under the bed and into the closet.

EUGENE is sent with the force of a cannonball backwards out through my bedroom window, the blazing crimson scorn of the setting sun exploding inwards, flooding the walls and ceiling already coated red in blood and sweat.

I rush over to MA. She’s alright, only fainted. Thank God. But Jesus she’s sweating so much. I’m sweating so much, sweating for my life. All I can hear is my heart thundering in my ears, until gradually the sirens creep in. Now the room strobes with blue and red flashes and I hear them, in our parking lot outside. The sirens, the cocking of SWAT shotguns, the megaphones calling my name, calling me to come outside and give myself up.

Like in a dream, like I’m barely even there, I stumble into the hall. The sirens. My vision going dark, my entire being, beginning to sink down, sink away. Down the hall, now also awash in the accusing, throbbing, unforgiving blue and red fury. Towards the stairs. My god what have I done, how did it come to this? They’re calling me, calling my name. A window breaks somewhere downstairs, some kind of pale smoke is filling the foyer. My god am I sweating, I smell like death itself. I can’t go out like this. At the top of the stairs, the bathroom door is open –

WAIT –

There, on the edge of the sink, pristine new from the store and unopened, in its gel applicator package with the fresh new design – GENTLE SWELL™ Body Odor Suppressor.

The house is burning, black smoke now, billowing into the bathroom.

Under the left arm –SWIPE

Under the right arm – SWIPE.

I can do this.

Steady, grim, determined down the stairs, ARMS HIGH IN THE AIR –

I can FUCKING DO THIS.

CUT TO BLACK.

SILENCE.

ROLL CREDITS , music cue “Deadly Sinners” by 3 Inches of Blood.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred except for Daisy Poison Blade and of course Gentle Swell ™ Body Odor Suppressor.

No animals were harmed in the making of this motion picture.

Copyright © 2016 HCK Entertaintment Corp. All rights reserved.

 

Daisy Poison Blade Will Return in

GS  BOS TV Spot 2

 

Bernard Carson

(Former) Chief Tech, Business and Spirituality Editor for Blood Lust Digest.
(Former) Head of the Sandwhich Station at the Black Dung Township Angelo’s Italian Restaurant.
Answerer of the 5th Unknown Question.
Founder and 13th Level Grand Maxiform Valuator of Omnichon Superionics, which is not a cult. IT’S NOT A CULT

One Comment

  1. Matthew Langland
    June 1, 2016 @ 8:28 pm

    Thank you Mr. Carson for raising awareness of this product and for the use we’ve all been able to put it to. Do you know my brother Dunkin I think he lives in your building. He owes me 13 dollar.

    Reply

Leave a Reply