Childhood = 100 Years Ago

Indiana Jones and the Infringement of the Copyright


The new adventures of Tom and Huck had been a failure thanks to Alan’s mom’s irrational fears of our contracting malaria from a local pond.

Was that the end of our filmmaking? Oh no. Our lofty and unreachable goals would not be set aside so easily. We were still in possession of the 8mm camera and we still had the drive to be famous, so we decided to begin our second first feature film.

This newest piece of cinematic artistry was to be titled Danger Boys of the Lost City.

Now, similarities could be made between Danger Boys and an iconic film about an adventurous archaeologist, but we, self-deluded and seemingly impervious to reality, had persuaded ourselves that our story was totally unique and would receive waves of awe from moviegoers and industry people alike.

So, what was Danger Boys of the Lost City about? How much adventure could be crammed into one film about two boys?


A small charter plane flies over the jungles of Africa for no reason whatsoever.

Aboard the plane, aside from a pilot that is never shown due to a deficit of adults we wanted involved, are two young boys named Alan and Mike (Alan would portray the role of Alan, I would play Mike).

The thing about Alan and Mike is that they have a knack for getting into trouble, but also a deep commitment to their elementary knowledge of archaeology (a thing they know involves digging in the dirt for gold, but what they don’t realize requires an education). This is not far fetched because, hello, what 10-year olds aren’t chartering planes in order to satisfy their desire to learn about ancient cultures? It’s practically a rite of passage!

For reasons never agreed upon (I suggested a classic engine failure, while Alan really wanted an attack by alien saucers), the plane crashes in one of the continent’s “…most darkest and most remotest” jungles. Miraculously, the two boys jump out just before impact, landing safely onto a pile of leaves from heights of several thousand feet. (The intensity is already that thick!)

“What best we can tell, the boys jumped out of the plane before the crash. Their only chance was if they landed on a pile of leaves.”

With no way of contacting the outside world , the boys are left with no other choice but to use their survivalist backgrounds to trek their way out of the jungle. After several, arduous minutes of hiking, the two boys find that they’ve stumbled upon a city of gold from an ancient civilization named, um, the Bokoloks.

Lured by the opportunity to unlock a new chapter in anthropological and cultural history, the pre-pubescent archaeological wonders begin exploring the ancient ruins. On the outside, the city is beautiful and welcoming. But, once the boys pass the forbidden ‘Door of Entry’, they are shocked to find the city guarded by an elite group of ninjas…sworn to protect the ruins at any cost.

The much feared and forbidden Door Of Entry, as guarded by what may or may not have been ninjas.

However, these ninjas, with their discipline and training dating back thousands of years, find that they are no match for the boys’ mixture of street smarts, comedic timing and unparalleled skill with a whip (a whip, incidentally, made entirely from dozens of leather shoe laces knotted together end to end. It didn’t make a cracking sound when snapped, so we would have to add the sound effect post-production by breaking potato chips under a glass).

As the action commences, the boys engage the ninjas in a battle envisioned as a cross between a Burt Reynolds barroom brawl and a Keystone cops chase. Our throwing punches with our underdeveloped arms take out the trained assassins left and right. For their part, the ninjas haphazardly bump into one another, stabbing one another in the butt with their swords and become all-around hilarious foils. The sound of tweeting birds would be inserted every time a ninja was knocked unconscious because, ya know, we wanted some realism.

Train all you want, Ninjas. You’ll find that you’re no match for two boys who watch way too many cartoons.

We weren’t sure how it ended, but figured we’d make something up. So…


Day after day, we acted out this epic battle scene, something that was only meant to be just one of the many climaxes the film had to offer. Alan’s hyperactivity proved beneficial, as he was able to simultaneously portray several ninjas at once, coming from all sides.

Yeah, things were really falling into place on Danger Boys of the Lost City. No malaria was gonna stop this movie, no sirree.

Satisfied with the only scene we put any thought into, we moved on to the next natural step: deciding where to premiere Danger Boys of the Lost City. After intense consideration, we decided that the local 4-screen cineplex would be the best venue. It was close enough to Alan’s house that he could get home on-time for bed and not get grounded.

Additional floors would have to be built at the cineplex in order to accomodate the thousands who wished to attend the Danger Boys premiere.

Every aspect of the premiere was planned out. Our friends would show up in tuxedos, the big lights, the expensive limousines, the free bucket of popcorn that Alan and I would share (the pimply-faced teen would smile and wink at us from behind the concession stand as he added, at no charge, an extra, delicious helping of the artificially flavored, finger staining butter he knew we loved so much). We knew that the publicity we’d receive from newspapers all across the country whose headlines heralded us (and rightly so) as child prodigies would be our ticket to fame. As media darlings, our faces would be as common on the evening news as that guy that killed people or whoever the President was. Everyone at school would want to be our friends, we’d receive fan mail from all over the US and from other countries and Canada. It was all going to be so sweet.

Every detail of our success was worked out to a tee. Not one thing was overlooked. Nothing, that is, except the actual movie. We had no large-scale production costs considered, no locales scouted out. In fact, aside from Alan’s manufacturing the shoelace whip, no effort had been put forth to help bring the film to light, at all. In fact, so caught up in what charming comebacks I would have for reporters, I never found time to write one of my patented one-page scripts.

It was only when we realized this oversight did we feel completely beaten down and our ego balloons deflated.

Our sorrow not entirely without merit, however. We had learned one important lesson: in order to premiere a movie and reap the benefits of mass adoration, said movie must first be filmed.

Who knew?

“There was a time when I was gonna be a famous film actor person, Willie. I had big dreams back then. Now look at me. Who am I? I’m an 11-year old nobody, a zero, a statistic.”

85 thoughts on “Indiana Jones and the Infringement of the Copyright”

    1. I sucked at paper airplanes, too. Part of the problem with mine was that I would staple them along the crease in order to keep their edges straight. The extra weight, surprise, surprise, didn’t help them fly very far.


  1. “Alan’s hyperactivity proved beneficial, as he was able to simultaneously portray several ninjas at once, coming from all sides.”
    Love this! I am sure you will accomplish greatness when you are 12.


      1. I’m presuming the legend of that, only slightly plagarised, script still floats around Hollywood. Like Orson Welles lost films. But less plural. And less professional. And even less complete.


  2. I wrote a short story ages ago called “Indiana Matt and the Temple of Really Bad Dead Things.” It’s totally begging for a screen adaptation if you guys are interested. We can talk about replacing the character of Indiana Matt with Mike and Alan, since frankly it would take two leading men to match the amount of awesome contained within the single entity that is Indiana Matt. Have your people call my people.


    1. My people have been contacted, Matt! Unfortunately, they said to stop contacting them and filed a restraining order against me. Showbiz is tough!

      Do you still have that short story? It would be hilarious to post it. 🙂


      1. I just found a hard copy of it. It’s handwritten on paper that is so old it’s brittle. I think I’ll transcribe it to my blog and post it. I’ll send you a link when it’s up. Glad I stopped by your blog, I totally forgot about this…


  3. That was awesome!
    Kind of reminds me of the adventures me and my friend Charlie used to get up to. We used to pretend we were army men and walk around our little area with toy guns building bases (what we called hideouts). I always built the roofs which I ended up being regarded as the ‘expert’ at, and he built the defences. It was great craic.
    On some rare occasions, the whole lot of us, including those from down the way, would all band together and venture into the local park. That was an incredible experience as we all knew we weren’t allowed that far away from home.
    So sad I had to move house when I was 10 though. I would love to be able to go back and be able to relive those memories. Possibly make a movie out of it someday, lol 🙂


  4. Youre a good writer. Funny and imaginative. There is no such thing as a lowly office worker. We are all part of the secret army of literary Titans waiting to unleash our profound yet joyful humor upon the world. Mine is like a caged kitten released in my blog You are welcome to read it and feel the love of comrades in arms.


    1. Just checked out your blog, really liked the piece about your dog’s love affairs. Ha. I love Dachschunds! My first dog was half-Dachschund, half-Terrier and was a great companion.


      1. Thanks a lot ! I seriously do not make this stuff up. I feel I should pay them for the material!—–oh wait. I do. They are the most spoiled wieners ever! Looking forwArd to more posts from you. There’s so much deadly serious stuff online when what we all need is a laugh! I’m sharing you to my friends!


  5. Whatever became of the 8 mm film you guys shot? Has it entered that black hole of long lost childhood antics that also includes my actual Willie Mays autograph that my mother tossed into the trash? Not to imply that that memory haunts me to this day …


    1. If only we’d actually shot any footage. That would have required follow through and persistence, neither of which we had.

      Sorry to hear about the autograph. Yikes. Have you ever let your mom live that mistake down or do you sometimes send her its current value?


      1. That’s another obstacle to making a film, having to load the camera with film and then start shoot. Alas, my mother took The Big Dirt Nap long ago, but she was a woman with a very wicked wit. I am certain that if I did whine to her about that autograph at this stage in life she’d observe, “You’re not over that by now?!” I suppose I do have other gripes that are a tad bigger than losing an authentic Willie Mays signature … or maybe not.


  6. This reminds me of my brother. He used to take my dad’s video camera, set it up on the tripod, and do his karate moves in front of it. I’m still not sure what that was all about.


  7. Brilliant! I have four boys, the youngest at 6 wants to be “a treasure hunter pirate….but not one of th ones with bad teeth”. This all sounds very familiar, and I’m now thinking about their plans of glory and their names in lights. I must direct them to this world famous quote, “….in order to premiere a movie and reap the benefits of mass adoration, said movie must first be filmed.” Perhaps it will save them from the demise of those poor eleven year old nobodies! Jen


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