In an attempt to escape the sweltering conditions during our recent heat wave, I hunkered down in the basement and watched a lot of old movies. While taking a break from the onslaught of cinematic action, I decided to write a piece about how the weather was affecting me. Since Hollywood was on my mind, just for kicks, I challenged myself to name 100 movie titles in the process … I hate to be The Jerk that says it, but I’m in Misery with The Heat. It’s the Sixth Day of Camp Hell. To Top it Off, it has been especially un-Pleasantville for the past 48 Hours, if you get my Drift. This is no White Lie; I’m Dazed and Confused. The Gods Must Be Crazy to make it this hot. When I go out in The Neighborhood, I long for the slightest North by Northwest breeze, but my desires are Gone with the Wind. It’s hot enough To Kill a Mockingbird. The Ugly Truth is I wouldn’t mind Trading Places with Mr. Popper’s Penguins. I’ll tell you Point Blank, I want Deliverance from the Big Heat. My fantasy concerns a Big Chill. I would pay a Fistful of Dollars for an opportunity to get into a Time Machine and go Back to the Future to the Ice Age; or to get on an Airplane and head North to Alaska; or buy a ticket and ride the Polar Express. I dream of being On the Waterfront, at the Lake House or being a Castaway on The Beach. The worst part of this NeverEnding Story is trying to get the Big Sleep. From Dusk to Dawn, the heat leaves you Breathless. I’m not much of a Sleeper and In the Heat of the Night, I’m Restless. It’s no Slumber Party. I’ve got a Burning Bed and I’m one Sweaty Betty in the Dark Knight. I did have a Mid-Summer Night’s Dream Not so Long Ago. It Happened One Night, Before Sunrise. I saw the Devil in a Blue Dress. When I woke up, I realized I had been To Hell and Back. I also had Great Expectations that the warm front might be Gone Baby, Gone. But No Such Luck. It was still an Inferno in Our Town. As soon as I went outside, I felt like a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. A Raisin in the Sun. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner in this heat? That’s Not Me. I have no Appetite. My stomach plays Hunger Games in this weather. I don’t want any Pi or Duck Soup, Fried Green Tomatoes, Bananas or Meatballs. I don’t even have a Thirst for Cocktails or Milk. Some Like it Hot. My Neighbors Frankie and Johnny love the Big Heat. Sometimes I question their Sense and Sensibility. I look out my Rear Window and see that, despite The Temp and the Relentless Little Miss Sunshine, they are playing in the Great Outdoors. They’re the Last of the Red Hot Lovers, as far as I’m concerned. Every day is a Picnic. They are In a League of Their Own. I’m a Marathon Man, but I like Cool Runnings. In this heat, I couldn’t run 39 Steps without sweating off Seven Pounds. Running when it’s Fahrenheit 451 is Risky Business. I’d be traveling Sideways before going the Full Nine Yards. I have no Death Wish. Heaven Can Wait, as I plan to Die Another Day. Training Day for this Running Man can wait Until September. There is New Hope. I just saw the Weather Man, and he said the Heat Wave is supposed to break the Day After Tomorrow. That’s As Good As it Gets. And that’s also 100 movie titles. Maybe I’ll celebrate by watching 101 Dalmatians.
Mark Albury lives in Northfield Falls.