The Unauthorized Serial Novelization of the 1994 Film, The Mask (pt. 2)
Part 2: P-A-R-T-Why??? Because I gotta!
Hi paying AWKSD subscribers! Welcome to the first entry of the Unauthorized Serial Novelization of the 1994 Movie, The Mask. Over the next few months, I’m going to give the Jim Carrey hit the literary treatment it always deserved. Nobody stop me!
And I’m also stoked to announce that artist Laura Gwynne will be providing original illustrations to these things!
I hope you enjoy. Please tell your friends and thank you for supporting me.
To read part 1, click here.
Stanley Ipkiss, waterlogged and covered in shit water, trudges up the stairs in his apartment complex, leaving dark, wet footprints on the wood. Stanley’s pants and the bottom of his jacket are soaked after descending into the Edge City River in order to save a drawing man, which turned out to be a pile of trash and THE MASK.
His night has been a total bust—the complete opposite of the “humungo” evening that his sleazy friend Charlie had promised. But then again, did he think it’d go any other way? How he decides to get out of bed each day is a testament to the sad, pathetic nature of human perseverance.
As soon as Stanley reaches the landing of the second floor, Ms. Peenman, the complex’s manager, bursts forth from her door. She’s been waiting by the door all night, biding her time for the moment Stanley comes home. Ms. Peenman is a homely woman—thin, frail, and wearing an oversized muumuu and hairnet to accentuate her undesirability. But there’s a fire in her eyes, an emasculating power that strikes fear into the hearts of misogynistic screenwriters. Basically, she is the opposite of Cameron Diaz in every way, and that’s what makers of the movie The Mask think about women: they’re either beauties or beasts. Women are to be either coveted or loathed.
“Ipkiss, do you know what time it is??” she asks. Ms. Peenman relishes any opportunity to dress down one of her sorry-ass tenants. Typical landlord behavior.
Ipkiss, realizing that yet more embarrassments await him tonight, sighs and says, “Actually, no.”
At that moment, Ms. Peenman notices Stanley’s dirty tracks he’s left on her new carpet. She’s mortified, but, again, she’s a landlord, so righteous indignation comes natural to her. She says this damage is coming straight out of Stanley’s security deposit.
At this point, we almost see Stanley’s last straw. “You know what,” he says to Ms. Peenman.
“What!?” Ms. Peenman says, eager to escalate this conflict.
And for just a second, we want Stanley to stand up for himself. Commit elder abuse, Stanley! But then his anger dissipates. “Nothing,” he sighs.
“Well that’s what you are, Ipkiss!” Ms. Peenman yells. “A big nothing!” Before Stanley can respond, Ms. Peenman turns and goes back into her room, slamming the door in his face. Ouch, we’re thinking. Harsh with that “big nothing” insult. For a second, we think that’s the title of a Stone Temple Pilots song, but after a quick Google search, we remember that the song is called “Big Empty”, which first appeared on the soundtrack to the 1994 movie, The Crow. The Mask and The Crow came out in the same year. We feel bad for everyone who wasn’t alive in 1994.
After Ms. Peenman slams her door, Stanley waits for a moment, and then the rage finally boils over. “Aren’t you due back at the lab to get your bolts tightened!” he says to the closed door, which I believe is a Frankenstein reference. “I should’ve said that,” Stanley whispers to himself.