Large Breasts on a Plane?, Say what? Options

[*mona lisa*]

I haven't watched Snakes on a Plane and I don't plan on it since I'm dead scared of snakes but you just have to read this. A bit of reading but very enjoyable:

Terror in the sky aboard Flight 40DD
From The Toronto Star. Aug. 24, 2006. 01:00 AM. Slinger

"I've figured out the problem."

At the other end of the line, the producer of Snakes on a Plane sounded like a man who'd been about to slash his wrists, but now realized he might not have to.

"You have?" he said.

"The movie-going public hates snakes."

"They do?"

"It's like a phobia."

"Now you tell me," the producer said, sounding like a man reaching for the butcher knife he kept in his desk for just such occasions.

"Wait! I've got the solution!"

"Yeah?"

"Large Breasts on a Plane." There was a silence at the producer's end.

This silence in the telephone call from the writer of Snakes on a Plane to the movie's producer gives us a chance to fill in the backstory.

Never in history had there been so much buzz among the movie-going public as there was in advance of Snakes on a Plane, a movie about snakes on a plane.

But when it was released, the movie-going public stayed away. Why was absolutely nobody interested in going to a movie about thousands of deadly snakes turned loose on an ordinary passenger flight?

There had never been a puzzle like it in the movie industry — so much buzz, zero business. Naturally, the producer was determined to make a sequel.

"You still there?" asked the writer.

"Are you suggesting a movie called Large Breasts on a Plane about — "

"Large breasts on a plane? Exactly!"

"But snakes are at least scary," said the producer. "It was supposed to be a scary movie. Since when are large breasts scary?"

"When they're explosive," said the writer. "I took for granted that you would take for granted they contained exploding breast implants."

The producer's voice conveyed the sound of a heart slowly filling with hope. "Say on," he murmured.

Large Breasts on a Plane, Draft Scenario: A number of extremely brave young women have enlisted in the cause of spreading freedom.

(Potential cast: Pamela Anderson, Christina Aguilera, the Dallas Cowboys' cheerleaders, the Swedish International Tanning Team, everybody currently married to and/or living with Hugh Hefner.)

They had allowed the silicon gel in their breast implants to be replaced with plastic explosive by Dr. Boomdyboom, chief cosmetic surgeon for the CIA.

Their objective: to lure evildoers into compromising situations, and then flip the switch. Boom! Or, as Dr. Boomdyboom put it, "Boom! Boom!"

Now the courageous young women are on an airplane flying to a training camp in the Hollywood Hills where they will learn how to lure evildoers into compromising situations, and how to flip their switches.

During a stopover in Washington, D.C., the President of the United States and his family get on board —

"The President and his family get on a commercial flight?"

"Air Force One had engine trouble."— thus falling into the trap devised by Dr. Boomdyboom, who is secretly working for the evildoers.

Once the plane takes off, he will flip the master switch, blowing up the whole plane, including the supreme leader of the freedom-loving world.

"How does this Dr. Boomdyboom know Air Force One will have engine trouble and the President and his family will get on this particular flight?"

"He has his ways."

Suddenly, the President's Secret Service agent taps his earphone. He's receiving an urgent message.

A number of women on the plane have explosive breast implants that will detonate, killing the President and his family, unless they can be located and defused in time.

The Secret Service agent looks around. Oh, no! By an amazing coincidence, every passenger, except for the President and his family, is a woman with large breasts!

The plane is full of them. How is he going to find out who has lethal ones and whose are merely normal, or normally enhanced, without causing panic in the sky?

"That's when the excitement begins," said the writer.

"It does?" asks the producer.

"Yeah. His search is kind of hit and miss."

"How's it end?"

"Are you kidding? It doesn't end. Like Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, it just stops. If people want to find out how it ends, they have to come back for the next sequel."

"There's another sequel?"

"For sure."

"In that case, I love it. Without another sequel, your sequel's toast. That's the whole concept today."

"It's why they call you the King of the Concept."

"Heh heh," chuckled the producer. "And I bet not nearly as many people hate large breasts as hate snakes."

"Nowhere near," said the writer.