Inception/Entourage/RPS/F -- PROPAEDEUTIC (For 
heidi8)
I've been sitting on some version of this concept since the last week of August. I have to accept that it's not going to happen. But this did. For heidi8
Ari. George.Inception. RPS. RPF. And the kitchen sink.
PROPAEDEUTIC
It's hard being Ari Gold. People just don't fucking recognize this.
"Tom Hardy."
Ari gives George Fuck You Look #12. "No, I am not buying you Tom Hardy."
George raises an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to buy me Tom Hardy."
Ari rolls his eyes. "I like it when you play with my balls, do it again."
This is a total lie: Ari doesn't like it when George plays with his balls. He fucking loves that shit. George doesn't do it enough.
Fuck -- what Ari really needs is Play With Ari Gold's Balls Day, because frankly all these indie movies are giving Ari a permanent case of limp dick.
George's mouth quirks at the corner. "Is this because I missed Hanukkah this year?" Sometimes Ari forgets what a GQ motherfucker George is and then he's reminded.
It's like being slapped with a cold fish of hotass.
"I think you've sucked enough Jewish cock to get a honorary yarmulke," Ari makes a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't even worry about it."
"I could buy Tom Hardy on my own, you know," George says, playing with the Aquaman paperweight on Ari's desk.
"He's not for sale," Ari says morosely. "I tried already. Repeatedly. Girls, boys, trannies, preops, cars, planes, I promised that snaggled-toothed fucker a crack at Angie's bony ass and I still couldn't get in. Also look out for his man, Pnut, that's a scary fucker. And that shit's coming from me."
"I like Pnut," George says. "Have you seen that video of his training Tom for Bronson?"
"You mean you jerked off to it fifty times a day for three months."
George grins. "Ari, I get the feeling that you're jealous."
"Fuck you, George. And I'm still not getting you Tom Hardy. If I get Tom Hardy I'm keeping his ass for myself."
"Does Bob know about this?"
Ari's heartburn flares up. "I let that motherfucker go play with the Ex-Mr. Madonna and Sienna Miller's blow-up toy and he gets hurt. He's fucking fired. I need a new piece of ass."
"Now you sound like Shia."
Ari can feel heartburn radiating down to his knees. "What does the Golden Goose have to do with this?"
"Wall Street 2 craps out and he's the Golden Goose. I make The American and you want to divorce me."
"Anton Corbjin needs to stick to shooting pretty people looking stupid."
"Ari, do you want to hear about Shia and Tom Hardy or what?"
Something happens where one minute Ari was sitting at his desk and the next he's on the floor on his back wondering if he's died and where the fuck his Welcome to Heaven blowjob is. (Not that Jews believe in heaven, but semantics are so unimportant in Hollywood. Unless that shit's in your contract.)
George peers at him over the edge of his desk. "Should I get Lloyd?"
"SHIA IS FUCKING TOM HARDY?!"
The last time Ari's voice was this high his balls were in the act of descending from his body. It was 13 March 1977. He was twelve. It was a good day to hit puberty.
George grins. "Not yet. But Tom did just sign on to do that prohibition film with Shia, so who knows."
"That Boardwalk Empire meets There Will Be Blood piece of shit with Ryan 'All the Girls Love my Batshit Insane Ass' Gosling?" Ari croaks.
Who knew you could get heartburn in your cock?
Ari closes his eyes and tries to remember the best piece of pussy he's ever had.
It's harder than you'd think.
When he opens his eyes, George is still grinning down at him. He looks demented. It was only a matter of time before it happened.
"Fuck you, Clooney."
"Maybe at the premiere."
"Kill me," Ari begs. "Kill me now."
"I thought you'd be excited," George mocks.
"Clearly this is you attempting to incept me," Ari bitches. "Shoot my ass so I can wake up."
"I would never try to incept you," George says. "Which is more than can be said for what you did last week."
Ari blinks.
"Did you really think you'd be able to make me think Brad's dick was that small?"
Ari shrugs. "When I was talking to Saito over all that sake it seemed like a good idea."
"That forger was pretty good," George concedes.
"Too hot to be Brad," Ari agrees. "I knew that shit wasn't going to work."
"I give you credit for trying."
"I can't fuck credit."
"Yeah, well, you can't fuck Tom Hardy either."
Ari sighs and takes the hand George offers to help him up. "This life is hard; I want a fucking recount."
George shakes his head. "You, me and everyone we know."
*Produced with grants from the
antheia fund. heidi8 Ari and I are gonna have to work this off in increments. Does anybody have the new Cee-Lo album?
Ari. George.Inception. RPS. RPF. And the kitchen sink.
It's hard being Ari Gold. People just don't fucking recognize this.
"Tom Hardy."
Ari gives George Fuck You Look #12. "No, I am not buying you Tom Hardy."
George raises an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to buy me Tom Hardy."
Ari rolls his eyes. "I like it when you play with my balls, do it again."
This is a total lie: Ari doesn't like it when George plays with his balls. He fucking loves that shit. George doesn't do it enough.
Fuck -- what Ari really needs is Play With Ari Gold's Balls Day, because frankly all these indie movies are giving Ari a permanent case of limp dick.
George's mouth quirks at the corner. "Is this because I missed Hanukkah this year?" Sometimes Ari forgets what a GQ motherfucker George is and then he's reminded.
It's like being slapped with a cold fish of hotass.
"I think you've sucked enough Jewish cock to get a honorary yarmulke," Ari makes a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't even worry about it."
"I could buy Tom Hardy on my own, you know," George says, playing with the Aquaman paperweight on Ari's desk.
"He's not for sale," Ari says morosely. "I tried already. Repeatedly. Girls, boys, trannies, preops, cars, planes, I promised that snaggled-toothed fucker a crack at Angie's bony ass and I still couldn't get in. Also look out for his man, Pnut, that's a scary fucker. And that shit's coming from me."
"I like Pnut," George says. "Have you seen that video of his training Tom for Bronson?"
"You mean you jerked off to it fifty times a day for three months."
George grins. "Ari, I get the feeling that you're jealous."
"Fuck you, George. And I'm still not getting you Tom Hardy. If I get Tom Hardy I'm keeping his ass for myself."
"Does Bob know about this?"
Ari's heartburn flares up. "I let that motherfucker go play with the Ex-Mr. Madonna and Sienna Miller's blow-up toy and he gets hurt. He's fucking fired. I need a new piece of ass."
"Now you sound like Shia."
Ari can feel heartburn radiating down to his knees. "What does the Golden Goose have to do with this?"
"Wall Street 2 craps out and he's the Golden Goose. I make The American and you want to divorce me."
"Anton Corbjin needs to stick to shooting pretty people looking stupid."
"Ari, do you want to hear about Shia and Tom Hardy or what?"
Something happens where one minute Ari was sitting at his desk and the next he's on the floor on his back wondering if he's died and where the fuck his Welcome to Heaven blowjob is. (Not that Jews believe in heaven, but semantics are so unimportant in Hollywood. Unless that shit's in your contract.)
George peers at him over the edge of his desk. "Should I get Lloyd?"
"SHIA IS FUCKING TOM HARDY?!"
The last time Ari's voice was this high his balls were in the act of descending from his body. It was 13 March 1977. He was twelve. It was a good day to hit puberty.
George grins. "Not yet. But Tom did just sign on to do that prohibition film with Shia, so who knows."
"That Boardwalk Empire meets There Will Be Blood piece of shit with Ryan 'All the Girls Love my Batshit Insane Ass' Gosling?" Ari croaks.
Who knew you could get heartburn in your cock?
Ari closes his eyes and tries to remember the best piece of pussy he's ever had.
It's harder than you'd think.
When he opens his eyes, George is still grinning down at him. He looks demented. It was only a matter of time before it happened.
"Fuck you, Clooney."
"Maybe at the premiere."
"Kill me," Ari begs. "Kill me now."
"I thought you'd be excited," George mocks.
"Clearly this is you attempting to incept me," Ari bitches. "Shoot my ass so I can wake up."
"I would never try to incept you," George says. "Which is more than can be said for what you did last week."
Ari blinks.
"Did you really think you'd be able to make me think Brad's dick was that small?"
Ari shrugs. "When I was talking to Saito over all that sake it seemed like a good idea."
"That forger was pretty good," George concedes.
"Too hot to be Brad," Ari agrees. "I knew that shit wasn't going to work."
"I give you credit for trying."
"I can't fuck credit."
"Yeah, well, you can't fuck Tom Hardy either."
Ari sighs and takes the hand George offers to help him up. "This life is hard; I want a fucking recount."
George shakes his head. "You, me and everyone we know."
*Produced with grants from the
antheia fund.