InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Inuyasha Sells Out! ❯ Miroku for Old Spice ( Chapter 2 )

Actual Commercial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owGykVbfgUE&feature=related

 

 

Miroku for Old Spice

 

“Hello, ladies,” the dashing monk drolled, topless with a towel wrapped around his waist, standing in front of a picturesque hot spring. The steam rising off the water in the background made him look even more enchanting than his beautifully muscled torso and charming smile.

 

“Look at your man, now back to me, now back at your man, now back to me…and now that he is utterly mediocre in your eyes, why don't you ditch him and bear my child?”

 

“Cut! Miroku, this is not a dating service.”

 

“Yes, yes, it won't happen again,” he replied, smiling innocently at the young female director. He knew there weren't very many of those in the business, but Old Spice had given him one, and he planned to have some fun with her.

 

“See that it doesn't. Alright, from the top!”

 

“Hello, ladies,” the monk began again, this time leaving out the proposition. “…now back to me. Sadly, he isn't me. If he was, you'd be on your back right now screaming in ecstasy.”

 

“C-cut!” the director ordered, flushing lightly. Some of the crew members could be heard giggling, which only seemed to deepen the director's discomfiture. Miroku stretched languidly, allowing his muscles to flex as he raised his arms over his head.

 

“I don't know what came over me,” he said in mock astonishment. “I'll be more careful.”

 

The director nodded, squirming a little in her chair. And Miroku began the commercial again…

 

“Sadly, he isn't me. But if he stopped using lady-scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he's me. And then you could pretend it's me making sweet love to you tonight. Scream my name, baby.” Miroku paused, waiting for a `Cut!' that never came. He smirked at the director, who was staring at his abs with a far-off look in her eyes.

 

“Is something the matter?” he asked her, faking genuine concern. Her eyes snapped up to his and she blushed crimson, stuttering inarticulately for several seconds.

 

“Uh, let's take a fifteen minute break, everyone!” With that, she fled the set, heading for the women's room. Some of the guys approached him and gave him high fives, still laughing; no one had any doubt as to what the director was doing. Fortunately for her, Miroku mused, the bathroom was a single room with a door lock. He also noticed that one of the male crew members had disappeared, which he wasn't so enthused about. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured it was like fishing for bass and catching a trout. Not exactly what he was going for, but not a bad thing.

 

When the director returned, she was much more composed and made it clear that she was ready to get down to business. Figuring they could use a fresh start, she decided to film the second scene and return to the first one later. Miroku was sitting on a horse and talking to the camera, which slowly pulled back to reveal his white mount.

 

“Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm hung like a horse.”

 

“Cut!”

 

“Oh? I thought we really had it that time.”

 

“It's `I'm on a horse,' Miroku. “ON a horse!”

 

“Really? I must have misread the script…”

 

“Save it. Just do it again!”

 

So he did. “…and not a lady. I'm on a horse.” The director was just about to stop the filming in exultation when Miroku spoke again. “Who's cock is hopelessly inferior to mine.”

 

“Dammit, Miroku!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We need you to shut up long enough to let the whistling play!”

 

“Oh, silly me. I forgot.”

 

“Ugh…if I survive the day it will be a miracle.”

 

***

 

“Fifty-seven takes,” the director groaned, leaning her head against the table. “We did fifty-seven takes, and he said something perverted on every single one.”

 

“So what do you want to do?” her assistant asked.

 

“Send Old Spice the one where he says he's hung like a horse. I don't care anymore.”