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Frank Cotolo
September 26, 2013 |
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Recently, my old buddy Pierce Brosnan invited me to hang out with him at his beach property near
San Diego. I had been trying to reach him for months, hoping I could convince him to update his
website and his Twitter activity.
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"You've been low profile, mate," I said, picking grapes off a bunch with my mouth as we sat on
expensive lawn chairs on the foot of the beach.
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"So you say," Pierce said with that enigmatic crease in his lips.
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"Are you thinking of retiring or something?" I asked, tossing a grape fifty feet into the air and
catching it with my open mouth without budging from the expensive lawn chair.
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"Nice catch," Pierce said. "I imagine you would win a Gold Medal were that an Olympic event."
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"Don't change the subject, mate. I have an idea that will put you right back into the mainstream."
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"Do tell."
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"We take a load of your Irish DreamTime production company money and make the James Bond movies that
you were going to make, were you not booted."
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"Really?" said Pierce, sitting up like a schoolboy thinking of a naughty prank. "You have ideas?"
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"Sure," I said, spitting a grape from my mouth directly into the open beak of a strolling pelican.
"I went ahead and wrote a few scripts already and will finish the rest once you give me a healthy
advance and start production."
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Pierce sat back and gazed into the clear, blue sky. He said, softly, "The fourth and final movie
was Die Another Day. What are the titles of the others?"
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I reached into my tight bikini bathing suit and took out a folded paper. I unfolded it and handed
it to Pierce. He sat smiling as he read the titles of the Bond movies I wrote.
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