2001: A Space Brodysey

Disgraced star of Predators Adrien Brody lay on his bare yellow stained mattress. The bed below him creaked deafeningly with every movement of his orbular body. There were 10 more days before he could collect another fortnight's dole money, and he had already spazzed the lot on his own personal hog roast, the carcass of which remained in the corner of his bedroom.  He knew he was meant to cook the hog before eating it, but hunger had overtaken his senses and he had instead ripped the raw meat straight from the pig like a blubbery carnivorous walrus feasting on a seal pup.  He gnawed at a strewn bone, but it had already been stripped cleaner than a freshly pressure washed patio in summer.

His trusty Nokia rang; the familiar ringtone of the theme from Ghostbusters sounding in clear resonant monophonic tones.  He had programmed it in himself, he wistfully remembered, back before his fingers had become too podgy to press individual buttons.  He mashed the pad, managing to hit the answer call button.

"Brody, get out of bed you slovenly oaf, I have a contract with your name on!" exclaimed Brody's agent.  Brody's heart hadn't leapt this much since watching his precious recorded VHS of M&S Simply Food adverts (alas, the VHS had got chewed up in the player from overuse).

"What's the role?" Brody asked, desperately.
"Well, it's an arty number.  Quite a creative one, this movie.  It has lots of thought provoking moments and a heartwarming ending."
Brody scratched his head.  "You said all that before you made me audition for Obese Zombie #4 in 'Attack of the Obese Killer Zombies from Mars'."
"Just get over here, you tub of lard.  See you in half an hour."

To be continued...