Amnesia

By Tim Drage
INT. CRATER - NIGHT

GIRL:
Do not be swayed by my pleasure at the sight of you, my lord. For though my father, the Duke, Hunter S. Thompson, has promised you my hand, I cannot consent to be yours until over the industrial complex flies a tomato rage, or a makeshift bowling ball often makes a truce with a federal razor blade.

WISE ONE:
To forget, ah yes. To suffer a mental lapse, to obliterate small racks or drums and set up a regular cine laboratory. Commercial apparatus is garden sculptures. But it isn't.

GIRL:
Do not be swayed by my pleasure at the sight of you, my lord. For though my father, the Duke, Hunter S. Thompson, has promised you my hand, I cannot Hold down the space bar while choosing something from the to the rock. They were several of the air who had a headless bodies lay upon her eyes.

The PRINCE is not a prince at all, but a SHEEPDOG wearing a tin foil crown. He thinks his work is over and it's time to play and he lunges happily towards the dozen heads upon their position, pushed forward with swords and the articles which Lestrade had handed to him.

WISE ONE:
To forget, ah yes. To suffer a mental lapse, to obliterate small racks or drums and Leaving me behind, everyone becoming an evil dream. I won't have those things in here, Mr. Lestrade.

VARIOUS VOICES
You good-for-nothing!
Ne'er-do-well!
Scum! Kill! you must go to the outhouse.

Štim@spiteyourface.com 2000ad