Here’s What Happened When I Was Sent to Movie Prison

There was a cloud of anticipation hovering over my abysmally poorly attended press conference. Various theories about my short disappearance (that I bribed low-level journalists to spread) suggested that I had died and resurrected in the spirit of Easter. After the story hit the morning papers (I glued a photocopy to the front of every newspaper on every newsstand in the city), the previously empty press room became filled with protestors, shouting down the sacrilegious allegations with good reason (I even held up a little protest sign of my own). But in spite of the commotion, my publicity stunt had succeeded. I had an audience.

Cool, calm, and collected; I brought silence to the room (by finding a new ringtone with my phone at full volume), and gave the real reason for my absence.

I had been in Movie Prison.

I showed them transcripts collected from my day in court. They detailed how, before sentencing me, the judge ran through my movie crimes that included — breaking on to the set of ‘The Artist’ to play with the dog, breaking on to the set of ‘I Am Legend’ to play with the dog (some say that I stroked it too hard and that’s why they had to kill it off in the movie), and breaking on to the set of every Jai Courtney movie to question his presence in Hollywood.

Then came the sentence. 90 minutes in Movie Prison.

I kicked, screamed, and threw briefcases at the jury as I was dragged out of the courtroom. My only hope was that someone would open the doors at the last second and give a shock piece of evidence that would prove my innocence. However, this was not movie court. This was a traditional court, one that had been given jurisdiction over a movie crime. A real miscarriage of justice.


 

I was swiftly put into a black and white jumpsuit (complete with little hat), had a ball-and-chain tied to my ankle, and was thrown behind the bars of a damp & dirty jail cell.

Overcome by the drama, I approached the uncomfortable looking futon type thing I had been provided to sleep on. I began to wonder whether it was the same one I had back at my apartment until someone stepped out from the shadows.

Oh no. This was the part where I would encounter my mean and rugged Movie Prison cellmate. The shadow loomed closer… and closer… until I could see their face and profile.

I released my breath and smiled. It was just that other movie cliche where the cellmate at first seems like they might be mean and rugged but turns out to be a dweeb.

The next 30 minutes largely consisted of Gus, the white-collar criminal, beating me up with my own ball-and-chain before we were ordered to get fresh air outside.


 

This was where I started to feel uneasy, no movie character has ever survived meeting fellow convicts in the confines of a prison courtyard without difficulties. In a vain attempt to get on their good side, I recounted the things all prisoners like — cigarettes, tattoos, shanks…

And then it hit me. I knew how to make them like me.

Every prison movie needs an old, wise convict who offers advice to his fellows. And that would be me.

I approached the roughest and toughest looking group and gently tapped the roughest toughest man of the roughest toughest group on the shoulder. He turned around to face me, put his cigarette out in his eye, cracked his heavily tattooed knuckles, and grunted in acknowledgment of the shank behind his ear. I gulped and began to speak:

“Hey, I’m the new kid, thought I would introduce myself. I see you like smoking, well I know all about the importance of trading cigarettes in prison. So, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna trade you some advice!

First off, its about the tattoos. Finding work after prison is difficult for everyone, but being taken seriously on a professional level with visible ink on your skin is just giving you another obstacle to face! Secondly, its about that shank, that thing could kind of hurt someone! And nobody wants that! You should be trying to really hurt someone. And everyone knows the best way to do that is to pull your teeth out and file them into a series of daggers!”

The next 30 minutes largely consisted of the rough and tough group of convicts strapping me down and pulling my teeth out one by one before we were sent back to our cells.


 

Here, speaking through a gummy mouth, I explained to Gus that I couldn’t hack another 30 minutes in Movie Prison. And so, using one of the shanks made out of my teeth I was allowed to keep, began digging a hole in the wall (hidden behind my Scarface poster).

As I chipped away, I explained to Gus that, after squeezing through the hole myself, he would need to neatly tape the poster back up behind me (as I had no idea how Tim Robbins managed it alone in ‘The Shawshank Redemption’)

He suggested that he make the escape instead, leaving me behind. I agreed that was fair.

After making absolutely no visible damage to the wall, footsteps could be heard approaching our cell. Joining it, were heckles along the lines of “Dead man walking!”.

Oh no. This was it. This was the part in every prison movie where something bad happens to one of the protagonist’s allies causing them to re-evaluate the risks at stake. Those bastards were going to take Gus to the electric chair!

The prison warden stepped up to us, laughed at my hopeless attempt at escape, and grabbed… me?!

“Wait, you’re supposed to take Gus to the chair, not me!”

Everyone in the prison began applauding my upcoming death (prison guards even offered out double-servings for dinner to celebrate the occasion).


 

I was fastened in to the electric chair sufficiently tightly — ready to fry.

A group consensus agreed that the sponge on my head should not be damp — giving me one of those slow, horrible deaths like in ‘The Green Mile’.

The executioner’s hand was on the lever, ready to pull, when someone burst through the doors and cried “STOP!”. Thank goodness we were in a Movie Execution Theatre.

It was my closest friend. The dog from ‘The Artist’. And he had adapted to the post-silent movie era by developing the ability to speak. He explained that the court agreed I was well within my rights to question Jai Courtney’s presence in Hollywood and that I had in fact done a great service to the industry. I was allowed to be set free.


 

And that’s why I have called this press conference. To confirm that I will now be taking Jai Courtney’s place as Hollywood’s most incomprehensible actor. You can catch me in my breakthrough role in ‘Maid’ (the gritty reboot of ‘The Little Mermaid’). I will be playing Sebastian the crab.

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