Da Vinci Code Mockage!

[artyartie]

aevir, you inspired me with your wonderful Da Vinci Code parody. That and I just discovered a, ahem, movie coming out in August. So, if you are thinking of watching the DVC movie only to mock it, clicky the cut!



***

The eyes of Opus Dei were everywhere, as were their strategically placed personnel at private airstrips in France. The Teacher wouldn't abandon Silas, even when he was trussed up like a turkey. As he was ignobly hauled into the plane, he recognized one of his fellow members; he remembered meeting the man at a lovely brunch in Paris. He gave him the signal that would ensure their success, or at the very least, he tried. One wink, two shakes of the head - no, a double blink and a wriggle of the feet-

It would have been a lot easier if he hadn't been gagged. Or unconscious, for that matter.

**

"Sacre bleu! They kidnapped Silas! C'est impossibile! Ah well, at least we have carried out our super-secret revenge against the English pigs!" Opus Dei operative Number One looked rightly smug.

Operative Two rolled his eyes. "Oh, sod off," he said in an especially thick Standard British accent. "But yeah, we got him the box - you think he'd have the bloody plane turned around by now. Besides the fact he was right conked out." Number Two looked at his clipboard and then at the empty ground around him. "Oi, where's the shipment for that herpetologist? You know, with all the danger stickers?"

Number One looked at the ground, up to the pitch-black skies, and back at the ground.

"Merde."

**

Silas blinked as he finally regained consciousness, and then regretted it as soon as he heard Teabing and Langdon blathering on. Did those two ever shut up? He wriggled his hands in his bonds; whoever tied them had been absolute rubbish at tying knots. Obviously none of them had any nautical training-

Now that was a random thought, he mused, sliding one hand free from the blood-soaked rope, the pain having crossed into pleasure long ago. Torn between reaching for the secret weapon of Opus Dei and covering his ears as fast as he could, he almost didn't hear the hissing. Almost.

There was a flash of pain, needle-sharp, in his right calf, and a flickery of a leathery caress. Silas slumped back to the floor, cursing his own incompetence. It wasn't a double blink!

At least the voices had faded away now, and the world took on a soft, purple tinge. If only I had gone to Catalonia. I could have taken up the cello, danced the sardana in front of the Catherdral..

Even the purple faded away, into an infinite black. Dear Lord, I hope there are wombats in heaven.

**

"Blah blah blah, Sacred Feminine, blah de blah blah blah." Sir Leigh resisted the urge to strike Robert and Sophie, but it would be like hitting puppies. Doe-eyed little puppies that believed every single word you said.

"I don't know about you chaps, but as this flight across the Channel seems to be taking ridiculously long, I'm going to check on our pale friend in back. It's a little too quiet back there."

An ominous pause followed, and out of the corner of his eye, Teabing saw his two puppies give each other longing little puppy glances.

Oh just get on with it already. You call this sexual tension? The knight resisted the urge to wave his cane at an unspecified point above him.

He sighed and made his way to the rear of the plane. Not only was Silas still unconscious, he was dead, red eyes fixed and almost wistfull. Sir Leigh took a hasty stumble backwards and felt a sharp sting in his calf.

"What the?" He turned around and looked into a pair of beady eyes.

I could have been a supervillain instead of this laughing-stock of an anagram but no.Teabing slumped to his knees, now surrounding by a circle of curious reptiles. I could have had Patrick Stewart. Patrick in all his beauty..

A quiet sob escaped Teabing's lips, and his last thought, besides a vision of Patrick doing something entirely inappropriate, was a query as to just who he could sue.

**

"So, once we've, you know, wrapped this all up, would you want to, you know, get together for coffee sometime?" Robert Landon ran a hand through his hair; it was starting to get rather long. He should really get it cut.

"When we're not being chased by Opus Dei and Inspector Clouseau? C'est possibile." Sophie gave Robert a tired smile and she looked at her watch. There must have been some truly horrendous crosswinds to make the flight this long.

"Is that a yes?" Before he could question her further, he heard a hissing at his feet. Curiously, he looked down and saw a small green serpent.

"Robert! It's a snake! The entire plane is full of snakes!" Sophie drew her legs up and batted off an inquisitve serpent that was trying to slither into her lap.

"But why would there be snakes on the plane? This has to mean something - you don't just have snakes on a plane." A small light flashed in Langdon's eyes as he reached down to the snake with a smile and an outstretched hand. "It's a symbol."

"It's a venomous snake! This isn't one of your symbols!"

"But it is a symbol - in the Gnostic creation accounts, snakes were emissaries of Sophia, of Wisdom. I don't think it's anything b-" Langdon yelped and shook his fingers as the snake darted away. "Not a symbol," he gasped, and then dropped lifeless to the floor.

**

Finally! That man never stopped talking! Victorious, the snake slinked beneath the seats. The other snakes, if they had hands, would have been giving him high fives. Lacking hands, they settled for joyous and energetic wriggling.

**

Sophie leapt nimbly over Langdon's lifeless body, savagely stomping at any remaining snakes with her heels. She pounded at the cockpit door, a thrill of relief running through her as she felt the plane finally begin its descent. "Please, let me in! There are snakes in ze plane!"

Now I sound like a student at Beauxbatons. Wonderful. Sophie continued to slam her fist against the door, and nearly fell into the cockpit when it opened.

"I know." A dark haired woman with a sardonic smile looked down at her, clearly not dismayed by the situation. "I thought they'd be in enough of a biting mood to finish you all off."

"Who are you? Another Opus Dei lackey?" Sophie looked for anything that could be used as a weapon, but not surprisingly, the cockpit was unattatched blunt object free.

"Oh, I'm no lackey." The woman's self-satisfied smile blossomed, and she reached her hand behind her. "I'm the Last Scion - Jesus' great, great, great, blah blah blah, grand-niece."

"I'm his great, great, great granddaughter!" Sophie felt like tagging on 'to infinity', just in case. She wasn't going to get showed up by some miserable cousin. "I read ahead to the end of the book."

"I only have two words for that," Bethany said, taking out a golf club from behind her back, a golf club that fairy thrummed with some otherworldly power. "Bitch, please."

Comments

[esteven]

*sniggers*
I'm sure you would know that this was my favourite part:
"There was a flash of pain, needle-sharp, in his right calf, and a flickery of a leathery caress. Silas slumped back to the floor, cursing his own incompetence. It wasn't a double blink!

At least the voices had faded away now, and the world took on a soft, purple tinge. If only I had gone to Catalonia. I could have taken up the cello, danced the sardana in front of the Catherdral..

Even the purple faded away, into an infinite black. Dear Lord, I hope there are wombats in heaven."

[otahyoni.livejournal.com]

Ha! What a fantastic way to start my morning. I hope there are wombats in heaven, too.

And, because I haven't read the book in ages and didn't care enough to solve any of the "puzzles," is Teabing's name really an anagram? Of what? *too lazy/apathetic to figure it out herself*

[artyartie.livejournal.com]

Sir Leigh Teabing's name is an anagram of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail. The ones who sued him recently for plagarism and lost.

And yes, if there aren't wombats in Heaven, I don't wanna go? But would that make Australia...? Hmmmm.

[otahyoni.livejournal.com]

I KNEW there was a reason I've always wanted to go to Australia.

[aervir.livejournal.com]

Heh! This is priceless, and I'm rather proud of being to blame the inspiring muse for this. :D

[melroseplant.livejournal.com]

too funny. That book is sooo bad. And that parody is a million times more clever.

[artyartie.livejournal.com]

The Da Vinci Code - The parody writes itself.

[chaosotter.livejournal.com]

That made me gleefully happy, and now maybe I will be able to survive this thing being in the theaters all summer without grabbing random moviegoers by the neck and shaking vigorously while screaming, "It's a bloody airport book kiosk novel! It's not literature! It belongs with the other fluorescent paperbacks with embossed titles!" And I can thus avoid being dragged away by the gendarmes while continuing to holler, "The dialogue made the baby Jesus cry! Well-educated French women aren't shocked to the point of paralysis by the discovery of sex rituals! And they don't fall in love while being repeatedly almost murdered!"