Title: Millennium Trilogy Parody
I do not own the characters.
After their usual bump and grind in bed, Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist both got up. Her thin, nimble fingers deftly thumbed through their CD collection bypassing Elvis. Pausing briefly, her fingers hovered over an Evil Fingers CD and she cracked a smile.
At the last moment, she inserted the disk in the CD player and cranked up the volume. Blomkvist came over and dialed down volume. Eying him, Salander reluctantly yielded since this was his CD player.
When they weren't busily solving the latest crime mystery, they fell into a casual routine: walking, sex, music, smoking, coffee and eating.
"I just heard something," began Blomkvist as he started to dress. "The Americans are remaking a film version about us . . ."
As always, Salander remained impassive and began to gather her clothes. Never been much of the chatty one in their noncommittal relationship, she listened as Blomkvist droned on.
". . . But I'm not familiar with the director," said Blomkvist.
There was several ways to find out, as Salander lit up a cigarette while waiting for her Mac to power up.
After launching the Firefox browser she tapped away intently at the keyboard as Blomkvist looked on. At the imdb website, an entertainment database, she simply typed the director's name in the search box. Within a few seconds, a bio came up.
Anybody could have done this as Salander quickly skimmed over the web page. It wasn't rocket science as she retrieved the information, saving it to a PDF file for reference and emailing a copy to Blomkvist. To this day, he was still amazed at Salander's computer abilities; she was a veritable walking encyclopedia of information as he watched her power down the Mac.
"They've already cast my character but there was quite a search for you," he resumed. "There was some debate whether to cast an unknown actress. Then there was this issue whether the actress should have similar physical attributes: age, height, and so forth."
Indifferently, she responded by with blowing several puffs of cigarette smoke.
"Of the names mentioned, one was Scarlett Johansson," remarked Blomkvist. "But she's somewhat Rubenesque, she has too much . . ." he said but stopped short when he recognized Salander's penetrating gaze through the tousle of black raven hair.
While Salander's countenance remained fixed, her eyes narrowed slightly. "F##king Kalle Blomkvist, you really know how to ruin the moment."
"Of course the body type is not the same," backpedaled Blomkvist as he caught Salander's cold stare.
"Hadn't notice," said Salander without emotion.
Abruptly, she sat down on the sofa causing more of her locks to fall over her face.
"Who do you think should be cast as you?" he asked trying to engage Salander.
Talking to Lisbeth at times could be exasperating. Almost like pulling teeth.
Taking a long hard look at her lover, she stared intensely at him. Salander couldn't come up with just one name instead she had two in mind. She took a deep, final puff of her cigarette before snubbing it out in the overfilling ashtray.
"Katee Sackhoff or P!nk."
Mulling over the choices, he considered the first one. Blomkvist looked at her oddly. The first name was somewhat familiar, an American actress who starred in a science fiction series. But the other one was vague but then it came to him. Recently, his teenage daughter had mentioned what were some of the latest singers. When it came to modern music, he was woefully behind the times and somewhat clueless. All music nowadays seemed like noise.
"Pink?"
"Yes P!nk."
"Isn't she a singer?" he said somewhat perplexed.
"Yes, so what," she said stating the obvious. "Have you seen the acting these days from these *so-called* movie stars," added Salander and rolled her eyes.
Blomkvist conceded and could see she had a valid point.
"Anyways the decision was made they're casting Rooney Mara."
Inexpressive, Salander took out another cigarette and lit up.
Blomkvist waited for a reaction but he got none. She was indecipherable.
Knowing Lisbeth Salander for some time now, he knew that this was all he was going to get. He also knew better than to press too hard. One did not want to get on the bad side of this gifted, goth cyber-hacker.
Lifting the thermos, Blomkvist noticed that he was out of coffee. As he made some, he considered this compelling and mysterious woman. He still couldn't figure her out. What really made Salander tick? If she wanted to communicate be it talking, texting, hacking, or whatever, she would do it in her own terms.
Rummaging through the Billy's Pan Pizza take-out boxes, Salander scrounged around for some pizza and nibbled on the leftovers while Blomkvist made a cheese sandwich.