Quentin Tarantino: I Won’t Start Production on My Next Movie Until at Least Ten Women Send Me Pictures of Their Feet

When the script for The Hateful Eight was leaked and I decided to shelve it out of spite, I realized two things. First, the public’s demand for my movies is so high that I can’t possibly let them down for petty reasons. Second, you guys will do anything to convince me to stay in the film business.

Therefore I have an important announcement to make: I have another finished script, and it’s going to knock everybody’s socks off. That is, if I actually direct the movie.

And I will, on one condition. I would like at least 10 women, preferably under 30, to send me pictures of their feet. You see, I can only re-watch that Salma Hayek scene in From Dusk Till Dawn so many times until I start to crave some new material. So help a guy out, eh?

Once I get the 10th picture I will start production immediately, and for every picture after that I’ll bump up the trailer release by a day. And here’s a little something to whet your appetite: Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta have already signed on. We’re looking at a 2017 Oscar sweeper with one of the greatest pairings in cinema history together again at last.

All I’m asking in return is 10 measly little foot pictures. The angle and position don’t matter, as long as I can see those succulent toes and soft arches then we’re good to go. Hell, if you go the extra mile with a pumice stone there might be an autographed Kill Bill boxed set in your future. As for what I will do with these pictures, that’s none of your concern. Just imagine the rush of another Tarantino masterpiece being announced at Comic Con.

Unfortunately, not any old tootsies will do. I’m Quentin goddamn Tarantino; I’m allowed
to have some standards. If your feet are veiny, hairy, bony, or just plain oddly shaped then you’re wasting my time. But for you ladies with silky smooth soles, I have only one thing to say: post-apocalyptic samurai western. I’ve even got Ken Watanabe lined up to play the main villain.

So what do you say? A few seconds out of your day to snap some pics for your Uncle Quenty, in exchange for a cinematic experience that will blow your minds? I’ll just sit here twiddling my magic-scriptwriting thumbs until then.

Sadly there is a deadline. If I don’t get 10 pictures within three months then I’ll send this pure gold over to Michael Bay, so he can butcher it and leave all your dreams in the dust. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Imagine the uproar from film critics and fans alike! Picture Michael Bay’s smug face as he pukes out yet another CGI-filled mess, and then think just how easy it would have been to prevent.

These are my terms, and I am quite confident that the American public’s love of my movies will prevail. I’m no pansy-ass like Wes Anderson; you have my word that I will hold up my end of the bargain.

Finally, to any women ready to step up: my favorite color of toenail polish is fire engine red. I’ll see you at the box office.

Published Oct. 2014

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