Tom Hanks Yahoo Movies

May 24, 2012 | Author admin

Re: a VACATION,can you write a story that includes 6 of these lines just for the pure fun of being creative?

1. I have sun poisoning, my nostrils are flared and I have a strange insect lodged in my ear.
2. Repetitive electronic music.
3. Get off that cell phone and save your sister!
4. Include the title of a TOM HANKS MOVIE as one of the phrases.
5. It’s a sign! It’s an omen, I tell you!!
6. Duuuuuuude…….Your aura is sooooooo magical.
7. So you do scary bat sounds,eh……. How adorable.
8. Your mood swings are giving me whiplash.
9. The door! The door! LOCK THE DOOR!
10. Include the name of someone on Yahoo Answers……..no nasty comments,however.
11. I…I…I’m fairly alarmed here.
12. The howling wind sounded like manical hyennas singing _______.
BONUS LINE: It’s very common. You can Google it.

I love my wife Anita, I really do. But this time, she has gone too far. It all started last February. There we were, lying in bed, SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE. The rain drummed incessantly on the roof. “Ohhhh…” moaned Anita, “why did I ever let you talk me into moving here? If the rain doesn’t stop soon, I think I’m going to grow gills and webbed feet!”

“But honey,” I countered, “I’m fairly alarmed here. I thought we made this decision together.”
“Well, that was before I knew about Seattle Syndrome.”
“Huh?”
“It’s very common. You can Google it. People who live in places that are constantly rainy and wet begin to suffer from a kind of psychosis. I’m starting to show the signs.”
“Really? And what would they be?”
“I have an overwhelming craving for Beach Party movies with Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon. I’ve watched Beach Blanket Bingo 47 times in the last month. When I’m not watching it, I hear this weird repetitive electronic music in my head – kind of like a Musac version of Frankie Avalon ballads. It’s completely unnerving. Joe, I think I’m cracking up!”

In less than a week, the whole family was on a plane to Bora Lumbago. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the name, it’s a small island in the middle of the Pacific. Lots of sand, sun and quiet. We can take the kids snorkeling, hike up to the island’s one volcano, and mostly just rest. I assured my beautiful (if wacky) wife that it was just what Dr. Avalon had ordered.

We were met at the tiny airport by our vacation guide, who turned out to be one of those new-age granola head types. Ah well, what’s a tourist to do? No normal person would be caught dead on a piece of lava rock jutting up from the sea in the middle of God forsaken nowhere. He called himself Sun Sitara and said he would be our “celestial navigator” during our time here in tropical paradise. “Sun WHAT?” I muttered. “Maybe he hangs out with good ol’ Moon Doggie.” Anita just shot me a venomous look and gave me a sharp jab in the ribs.

Sun Sitara seemed like he couldn’t tear his eyes from my face. “Duuuuude… Your aura is soooooo magical,” he gushed. Then he put his hands to the sides of his mouth and started making this unearthly, high-pitched squealing noise in greeting.
“Great,” said my 10 year old son, Billy. “So you do scary bat sounds, eh…. How adorable.”

Anita just laughed as if it was the funniest thing he had ever said and patted him on the head. “Weren’t you just getting ready to physically abuse me?” I asked. “Sheesh! Your mood swings are giving me whiplash!” My teenage daughter Tiffany pretended to be ignoring the whole encounter. This was normal operating procedure for a 15 year old girl who would rather be caught dead than seen with her uncool family on vacation.

I spent most of our retirement savings and the money put away for the kids’ college educations to get here, and three days later Anita wants to go home. When pressed, she explodes like a firecracker. “Listen, I have sun poisoning, my nostrils are flared and I have a strange insect lodged in my ear!” she yells at me.

So, I go to the concierge and start to make arrangements for an abbreviated stay and a quick flight out. No can do. The next plane isn’t due to arrive until next week. Just then, Sun Sitara bursts in, waving his arms excitedly. “It’s a sign! It’s an omen, I tell you!”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I respond. “WHAT’S a sign?”
“I saw it in the great white plume of the volcano!” he says, as if that explains everything. I wait expectantly. “Don’t you get it?” he shrieks. “The door! The door! LOCK THE DOOR! A giant tsunami is coming!”

“Right,” I say, trying to placate him. I’m wondering if Seattle Syndrome is catching. Either that, or this guy has been eating some hallucinogenic native plant life.
As I wander out to give my wife the bad news, I see the water from the beach recede.
“Holy Hannah!” I yell. “Dork Boy wasn’t kidding! Hey everybody, head for high ground!”

Thirty seconds later, a wave of epic proportions crashes in. I scramble up the nearest palm tree and watch in horror as my wife begins to scream. True to form, she’s yelling at the kids. “Billy, get off the cell phone and save your sister!” she hollers. But it too late. They are all swept out to sea in the maelstrom, never to be seen again.

These days, the island is quieter than ever. Sun Sitara, the hotel staff and everyone at the airport are missing. Luckily, most of the hotel has remained intact. I spend my days at the beach, catching fish and working on my tan. I’ve even found a basketball, just like the one Tom Hanks befriended on that movie CAST AWAY. Wilson is infinitely better company than the rest of them. He doesn’t threaten me, read my aura or make funny bat noises. He lets me say whatever I want, and he even lets me win at checkers. I look up to see his smiling face regarding me over the black and red checked board and I am reassured. “Okay,” I say, “it’s your move, Moon Doggie!”

Tom Hanks