Making a movie isn’t easy; it takes invention, skill, and sometimes, it takes male prostitution. G, S, and M were small-time filmmakers desperate to be a little bigger. But they had no money. They also had no luck making connections. But they were determined. So they did what anyone else would do: they thought out of the box, they tried to be original, unique. They decided they had a problem and that they were going to do something about that problem., which is where the oldest profession came into the equation.
Out of the three of them, S. was the obvious choice. He was the youngest, and he was the most eager to make a go of the movie business at any cost S. went along with the plan, but with the understanding that he would be represented—“by a professional.” Even though they were desperate to make money, S. had standards. For a minute, G. and S. were distraught. How were they going to find a professional to help out? As was the case with the movie business, they had no connections to the prostitution biz.
But then, almost as if they were on the set of one of their own quirky films, out of the blue, appeared a man who called himself The Knight. “Fuck, ye.” The Knight said in a British accent.
The Knight, let it be said, was not only a knight in name. He was covered in armor. “Is that real, dude? You could be in Game of Thrones with that outfit,” G. pointed out, which was fine, but then G. then made the mistake of trying to touch the Knight’s armor. The Knight did not appreciate this and met G.’s attempt with a stern look and a grab for his broadsword, which also looked real.
“I am here to assist thee with the sale of that young man’s flesh,” the Knight said after G. pulled his hand back.
“Are you a pro?” S. asked. “Cause I’m not doing this if I’m not repped by a pro.”
The three waited for the Knight to respond, but he seemed confused. “I am here to help you with the sale of the boy.”
“Are you a pimp?” G asked.
“I know not what a pimp is. I am an agent of commerce.”
“So you’re a pimp or an agent?” M. asked.
“Are you professional?” S. asked.
“I specialize in finding women and men who appreciate the bloom of youth.”
“I don’t understand him,” M said to G and S.
“I need to terminate our conversation soon. If you are not interested in my services, I must leave. The constables are near.” The Knight nodded at a patrol car that was turning the corner.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, “ S. said. “I can’t do this shit.”
“Quiet your tongue, young man. Just decide if you want me to represent you.”
“What’s the deal you’re offering?” G. asked, ever the business man. “We’re trying to make money for a film. We’re not trying to do this just for the fun of it.”
“I need to see for myself that the lad can perform his duties adequately.” And with that, The Knight snapped his armored fingers and a beautiful woman appeared before them. “Wench, take thy bony bottom to the estate and have a go with this young man.” The Knight turned to the group of three who were all confused. Well, S. wasn’t confused—not exactly. He was confused but also pleased.
“If the young man is adequate to the task and pleasures the wench, we will enter into a business transaction together.”
“And what happens if he doesn’t meet your standards?”
“Hey. Of course, I’m going to,” S. said a little bit annoyed.
“Yes. Good.” The Knight said, his hand on the handle of his sword. “Because from the looks of you, you wouldn’t be able to pay for the wench, which you will need to do if the lad doesn’t live up to the bargain.”
“How much is that?” M asked, since M. was the money person.
“100 shillings,” the Knight said.
“What the hell is a shilling?” G. asked.
The Knight laughed at hearing this. “I hope you jest.” And with that, he walked away, wit the wench and with S. in tow.
Hours later, the three came back. The Knight looked pleased, the wench indifferent, and S., well, it was impossible to know what he was thinking, exactly. “The lad weill do nicely,” The Knight said, hands akimbo. “Worth every pence.”
G. came up to S. and tried to bumpfist him. “Right on, man. We’re on our way,” M. said. But S. didn’t look very happy.
“What’s up, man?”
“I feel dirty,” S. said.
“Oh,” M. said, looking over to G. “Maybe it’s not a great plan, after all.”
But G. stood firm. “You think you feel dirty now, wait until you start working in Hollywood. The way I figure it, selling your body to The Knight is good training.”
And with that, the three went about raising money for their first feature film—a romantic comedy about a young, ambitious man who has to make a choice between love and career. In the movie, the young man chose love, but what do you expect? It’s a movie.
