Quasimojo...the Porno.

"You may not know this, but I can read lips."

It was a skill Sid had acquired growing up with a deaf sister and was not something that was well known. After all, he didn't want people talking with their hands over their mouths, especially those who may be talking about him.

Sid is a producer/director of porn movies and on rare occasions, uses his lip-reading skills as a party trick. He also uses it in his professional life, to get a handle on people who might not have his best interests at heart.

Tonight's party is being thrown by Sid, to celebrate the launch of his new movie, 'Sir Come to the Lure of Flesh', an arty kink fest of mediaeval bondage, rubber and watersports.

A who's who in the industry is in attendance. Porn stars and their entourage; hangers-on and their dealers, to an exclusive, invitation-only event...and anyone the door happens let in or those who sneak in through the back entrance. The irony of this does not escape Sid, as he leaves his adoring ass-kissers and heads to the bathroom to powder his nose.

After he is done converting his persona from jaded control freak to give a fuck egomaniac, the enigmatic attitude that precedes him struts from the bathroom; importance in the air all around him. Only it isn't importance, just the lingering odours from the stall and the closed toilet seat from which he had just snorted his blow. Whilst heading back to the bar, he encounters a group of young wannabe porn actors and starlets, who, upon seeing Sid approaching, begin the ritual routine of fake kisses on fake cheeks, grabbing fake asses and fake tits, along with the fake, "Oh, Sid...we must go for lunch."

Sid doesn't buy into that side of the industry, preferring to keep the company of those he has known longer than the three minutes all of these people have known each other. He did, however, play the game to an extent, knowing that one day he may require them in some future project. So, he smiled at the group and tried his best not to snarl his welcome.

He would keep a close eye on these backstabbing, two-faced, yet incredibly beautiful people (who Sid loves very much) when they are whispering in their clicky little groups, so at least he will know from whose backs any knives will be protruding. The truth of the matter is Sid doesn't love these people at all, even if tonight his lip-reading skills are telling him they are speaking very kindly about him. Although they are speaking badly about one of the guests, an actor Sid occasionally uses; calling him an apathetic, ass-licking, SOB, motherfucker.

"If they think he's all of that, then I do too."

Sid has some built-up resentment towards this much-hated actor for performing in a recent release that coincidentally, Sid had nothing to do with. And as Charlie began loudly knocking on his ego-driven psyche, Sid mutters to himself, "Who does he think he is anyway? As if he has any talent other than driving himself to Krispy Kreme or to a procedure to remove that hump from his back."

The hump Sid is referring to sees this bullied actor getting stereotyped into any and all black-and-white horror porn flicks. Movies which depict his character as a freak, and yet, this ugly monster, in the end, always gets the beautiful girl.

*******

The script for Quasimojo, the movie Sid DID NOT produce and the cause of his resentment, called for Quasimojo to carry the beautiful girl up and into the bell tower, where his deformed head plots a surefire way to protect her from the evil villagers...by raping her. Knowing this was the only way, as then, no villager, no matter how ugly or desperate, would put their dicks in her mouth, let alone inside that hideous, come-filled flange (which had to be declared a wholly...or unholy, contaminated vagina, by way of being pumped full of humpback semen). But rest assured folks, during their thirty seconds of passionate rape-making, Quasimojo was indeed having a whale of a time.

Later, the clean-up crew on set remarked at the amount of Quasi spunk he ejaculated into her now ruined genitalia. They came to the conclusion that because his character doesn't see much action, and between takes his short stumpy fingers struggle to relieve himself, the build-up from trying to masturbate, but every time he is about to blow, the bells would ring, then his hands would automatically go to his ears instead of finishing the job at hand, was responsible for the huge mess they were now having to deal with.

At the end of the scene, as the characters lay in the blissful afterglow of post-traumatic stress disorders, the love birds live not very happily ever after...until the abortion and divorce are finalised, and they can get on with their lives, hating one another as normal people do.