The eighth element of humor is Contrasted reality: Go out the other side by
replacing normal reality with a direct contrast. Consider professional
assassins living as man and wife in Mr. and Mrs. Smith, a ditzy fashion
major becoming an ace student at Harvard Law in Legally Blonde,
or a male/male figure skating pair in Blades of Glory.
The
contrast doesn’t have to be a person. It could be an event: a heavy metal
concert at an amusement park: This is Spinal Tap
Or
even an item: a wading pool serving as a baptismal font (My Big Fat Greek
Wedding).
One
of the charming nuances that made Shrek so successful was the
contrasted reality of contemporary awareness with a storybook setting. Who
could forget the magic mirror showing Prince Farquaad his princess choices
using the old Dating Game style: “Our first bachelorette is a mentally
abused shut-in from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and hot-tubbing
any time. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for her two evil sisters.
Let's hear it for Cinderella! Bachelorette number two is a cape-wearing girl
from the Land of Fantasy. Although she lives with seven other men, she's not
easy. Just kiss her frozen, dead lips and find out what a live wire she is.
Give it up for Snow White! And last but not least is a fiery redhead who lives
in a dragon-guarded castle surrounded by a boiling lake of lava. But don't let
that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes piña coladas and getting
caught in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona!”
In
my release, A Little Slice of Heaven, my heroine uses an unusual
item as a weapon against a possibly dangerous man lurking outside her pizzeria:
Holding the pizza paddle like a baseball
bat, she strode outside and let the screen door slap closed behind her. The man
had disappeared. He must have rushed to hide behind the Dumpster when she came
out. Or…was he lying in wait to accost her when the time was right? Dang, she’d
done it again--leapt to action without considering the consequences.
Black clouds hovered overhead. The soft
breeze from late afternoon had transformed into a blustery autumn wind.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should
return to the safety of the kitchen. But…no. Claudio was inside, waiting to
say, “I told you so,” again.
She lifted her chin, hefted her paddle, and
stepped into the parking lot. “Sir?” Tiny hairs danced on her sleeveless arms,
and she fought the urge to shiver against the cold. She tiptoed closer to his
hiding place. “Would you come out please? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Unless, of course, you try to hurt
me.
“If you’ve no plan to harm me, put down the
oversized Louisville Slugger.”
His tone was cultured, each syllable
succinct and tinged with a slight New England accent which made the prickly
hairs on her arms do the cha-cha.
Their positions created an interesting impasse.
If she put down the paddle, she had no guarantee he wouldn’t attack her. But if
she didn’t put down the paddle, he probably wouldn’t come out. At sunrise,
they’d still be standing here. Gianna the Warrior, wielding her mighty pizza
paddle while the White Knight cringed in the corner of the rear parking lot and
the grumpy troll watched over the frozen players with malicious glee.
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