Dwayne was the first entry into "The Portfolio" and it's only fitting that he should be the first to have his story told. We're gonna be wide open with this one so take it wherever you want. Let the Story of Dwayne begin.
It was a stifling August morning in Lincoln when Dwayne showed up to Larry Brother's Citgo a half hour before his shift started. The midsummer Nebraska heat was baking the plains like an apple cinamon Pop Tart, and Dwayne was desperate for the refreshing cool of the gas station AC. Plus, he needed to pick up a pack of Reds and Mountain Dew before his shift started. Last night, Dwayne and his best friend Eddie had polished off a bottle of Yukon Jack and a case of Milwaukee's Best Ice. He had seen better mornings. (by Jonny)
If there was ever a day for Gold Bond Powder, this was it. Dwayne made his way to the door of the gas station, eagerly anticipating the cool rush of the air conditioning. Instead he was met with stale air. He lingered briefly in front of the cooler of Mountain Dew, only to find that the drinks were warm. Dwayne sipped the warm, viscous beverage as he made his way to the clerk behind the counter.
"I need a pack of Reds. What's up with the air conditioning and the cooler?"
"Compressors blew last night. Out of Reds. All we have are these Pall Malls. The delivery truck tipped over on 80 last night."
Dwayne stepped back out into the Nebraska heat and lit up a Pall Mall. It was going to be a long day. (by Tito Gallegas)
Dwayne crushed out his Pall Mall and went back inside the sweltering gas station to start his shift. Three hours into the shift a large SUV with tinted windows pulled up the full service pump.
Dwayne made his way to the driver's side window. The window slowly rolled down and Dwayne noticed the distinct smell of cabbage. He was shocked to see that the driver of the vehicle was none other than the great Washington Bullet center, Gheorge Muresan.
Surely fate was mocking Dwayne, as Gheorge Muresan was almost directly responsible for Dwayne's acrimonious dismissal from the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Dwayne was the sole member of the academy who recognized that the big man's turn in the 1998 Billy Crystal vehicle "My Giant" ranked among the finest performances of this or any other generation.
Dwayne's ill-fated campaign to nominate Muresan for best supporting actor was met with widespread derision from the academy. Dwayne argued in vain that few men had the range to play a giant Romanian monk as well as average 2 blocks a game in the NBA. Shortly thereafter he was run out of the academy.
Dwayne knew what he had to do. This was his opportunity to set things right. He and Gheorge Muresan were going to have to make the greatest movie of all time. (Byron Allen)
The odds were long. The chance of failure, almost certain. But Dwayne had never been one to pick his battles wisely; he had once sword fought a king cobra with only his unscathed phallus and a bottle of compressed air. This was a chance for redemption that could lift him from his hometown Nebraska hell and land him back where he belonged: directing soft porn in Van Nuys. It was a dream he had harbored since he had first seen Emmanuelle 4 in his parents basement. It was an epiphiniacal moment that had driven him ever since. Dwayne's expression hardened with icy determination as he approached the Giant. (Jonny)
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It was a stifling August morning in Lincoln when Dwayne showed up to Larry Brother's Citgo a half hour before his shift started. The midsummer Nebraska heat was baking the plains like an apple cinamon Pop Tart, and Dwayne was desperate for the refreshing cool of the gas station AC. Plus, he needed to pick up a pack of Reds and Mountain Dew before his shift started. Last night, Dwayne and his best friend Eddie had polished off a bottle of Yukon Jack and a case of Milwaukee's Best Ice. He had seen better mornings.
If there was ever a day for Gold Bond Powder, this was it. Dwayne made his way to the door of the gas station, eagerly anticipating the cool rush of the air conditioning. Instead he was met with stale air. He lingered briefly in front of the cooler of Mountain Dew, only to find that the drinks were warm. Dwayne sipped the warm, viscous beverage as he made his way to the clerk behind the counter.
"I need a pack of Reds. What's up with the air conditioning and the cooler?"
"Compressors blew last night. Out of Reds. All we have are these Pall Malls. The delivery truck tipped over on 80 last night."
Dwayne stepped back out into the Nebraska heat and lit up a Pall Mall. It was going to be a long day.
Dwayne crushed out his Pall Mall and went back inside the sweltering gas station to start his shift. Three hours into the shift a large SUV with tinted windows pulled up the full service pump.
Dwayne made his way to the driver's side window. The window slowly rolled down and Dwayne noticed the distinct smell of cabbage. He was shocked to see that the driver of the vehicle was none other than the great Washington Bullet center, Gheorge Muresan.
Surely fate was mocking Dwayne, as Gheorge Muresan was almost directly responsible for Dwayne's acrimonious dismissal from the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Dwayne was the sole member of the academy who recognized that the big man's turn in the 1998 Billy Crystal vehicle "My Giant" ranked among the finest performances of this or any other generation.
Dwayne's ill-fated campaign to nominate Muresan for best supporting actor was met with widespread derision from the academy. Dwayne argued in vain that few men had the range to play a giant Romanian monk as well as average 2 blocks a game in the NBA. Shortly thereafter he was run out of the academy.
Dwayne knew what he had to do. This was his opportunity to set things right. He and Gheorge Muresan were going to have to make the greatest movie of all time.
The odds were long. The chance of failure, almost certain. But Dwayne had never been one to pick his battles wisely; he had once sword fought a king cobra with only his unscathed phallus and a bottle of compressed air. This was a chance for redemption that could lift him from his hometown Nebraska hell and land him back where he belonged: directing soft porn in Van Nuys. It was a dream he had harbored since he had first seen Emmanuelle 4 in his parents basement. It was an epiphiniacal moment that had driven him ever since. Dwayne's expression hardened with icy determination as he approached the Giant.
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