Tuesday, October 27, 2009

She Walks in Beauty. Whatever.

So, Kendall is on the run with Aidan, a handsome ex-Special Ops agent with a sexy Austrailian accent and, apparently, a penchant for poetry. He helps her escape from the hospital after her "double," who is serving her life sentence in prison (while she lives in a secret room in her own home) gets stabbed by a disgruntled inmate and is sent to the hospital.

Oh, the plotline doesn't matter. The following information matters: Her husband, Zach is handsome, mysterious, brooding, rich and apparently, has a penchant for poetry. Also.

Note: Hub has a penchant for many things. Poetry, however, is not one of them.

So, Kendall and Aidan are holed up in a charming, old run-down church while Aidan recovers from the gunshot wound which he received during the daring escape. Nevermind that Kendall and Aidan have done the whatnot more than once. She is devoted to Zach (currently) and is reminiscing. About Zach. And their love. And about how deep and abiding it is (currently). And about how Lord Byron wrote "She Walks in Beauty" after seeing a woman that took his breath away. And nevermind that Lord Byron, who was also mysterious and brooding (because of his clubfoot, some poetry authorities muse) had a penchant for a few things himself (including his own female relatives).

Kendall: I'll never forget the first time Zach read it to me."

Wait. The first time? Doesn't that imply that there are other times as well? Are you kidding me?

Note: Hub needs a scriptwriter. Now.

Cue music. Cut to Zach and Kendall on a couch, in a room too dark for reading and seriously, Zach is my age and in that lighting would need reading glasses, and of course the fire is roaring and Kendall is glowing and Zach is gazing. Adoringly. At. Her.

Cut to old run-down church. Kendall is quoting the poem, her eyes glistening with the remembrance of it all. Aidan's eyes are glistening as well. He quotes the poem with her. In tandem. They hold hands. And quote.

Note: Oh please.


Amanda P said...

I think I'd rather have a club foot.

Doug said...

Roses are Red, violets are blue, this soap opera makes me want to read poetry and then get sick all over you. See I can do poetry too.