Prompt: "A song with more than eight words in its title"
Selected by Pat
"Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine"
James Brown
single, 1970
[INT: Record label, 1970. An unidentified MUSIC PRODUCER sits in his office. He strongly resembles (but is legally distinct from) Bobby Cannavale's character in Vinyl. Shag carpet abounds. Suddenly, the office door bursts open. Enter JAMES BROWN, wearing a velvet jumpsuit, heeled boots, and a cape. His hair is perfect.]
BROWN: I got a new idea for a song, baby!
PRODUCER: Lay it on me, James. I took a handful of Quaaludes about an hour ago, so I need something to perk me back up.
BROWN: It's a song about being A SEX MACHINE!
PRODUCER: Now we're talking! Give me the details, Jimmy. And spare nothing. I can handle filth.
BROWN: We start with a countdown!
PRODUCER: Yes!
BROWN: Then we GET ON UP!
PRODUCER: Sure!
BROWN: We stay on the scene!
PRODUCER: What?
BROWN: Like a sex machine!
PRODUCER: Did you say "scene?"
BROWN: I'll ask Bobby if I can take 'em to the bridge!
PRODUCER: Wait, I'm still not clear on what the scene is or why we're staying there.
BROWN: And then I'll tell the fellas...
PRODUCER: Fellas?
BROWN: ...to do another countdown!
PRODUCER: Uh-huh...
BROWN: Then we GET ON UP!
PRODUCER: James, are there any women on this song?
BROWN: No!
PRODUCER: Do you ever mention women in this song?
BROWN: Not explicitly!
PRODUCER: Do you actually talk about sex at any point?
BROWN: I talk about having a fever and a cold sweat!
PRODUCER: Okay, anything else?
BROWN: GETTING ON UP!
PRODUCER: How long is this song?
BROWN: Five minutes, but I can get that up to ten no problem!
PRODUCER: James, you're a fucking genius. Give me a hug! No, seriously. I took some methedrine while you were talking and now I'm starting to get dizzy.
[END]
(Happy birthday Erin!)
BROWN: I got a new idea for a song, baby!
PRODUCER: Lay it on me, James. I took a handful of Quaaludes about an hour ago, so I need something to perk me back up.
BROWN: It's a song about being A SEX MACHINE!
PRODUCER: Now we're talking! Give me the details, Jimmy. And spare nothing. I can handle filth.
BROWN: We start with a countdown!
PRODUCER: Yes!
BROWN: Then we GET ON UP!
PRODUCER: Sure!
BROWN: We stay on the scene!
PRODUCER: What?
BROWN: Like a sex machine!
PRODUCER: Did you say "scene?"
BROWN: I'll ask Bobby if I can take 'em to the bridge!
PRODUCER: Wait, I'm still not clear on what the scene is or why we're staying there.
BROWN: And then I'll tell the fellas...
PRODUCER: Fellas?
BROWN: ...to do another countdown!
PRODUCER: Uh-huh...
BROWN: Then we GET ON UP!
PRODUCER: James, are there any women on this song?
BROWN: No!
PRODUCER: Do you ever mention women in this song?
BROWN: Not explicitly!
PRODUCER: Do you actually talk about sex at any point?
BROWN: I talk about having a fever and a cold sweat!
PRODUCER: Okay, anything else?
BROWN: GETTING ON UP!
PRODUCER: How long is this song?
BROWN: Five minutes, but I can get that up to ten no problem!
PRODUCER: James, you're a fucking genius. Give me a hug! No, seriously. I took some methedrine while you were talking and now I'm starting to get dizzy.
[END]
(Happy birthday Erin!)
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