Tuesday, March 9, 2004

the exciting conclusion to: thirsty but there's only a salt shaker
it's a tuesday afternoon. joss stone is crooning in the foreground. a skinny pale man is crouching in the corner of the frame facing a white wall. as the wide angle lens closes zooms in and tilts to stare down at the character, he stares longingly at his imaginary audience. 4 seconds. a quiver. cut.

he's sleeping on the couch now. the forty degree heat form globes of blood soaked sweat on his grimy face. during the close up, a clear drop of sweat dislodges itself from the imaginary hinges that attach it to the man's beard. like an animal that's alive, it falls and the camera tracks it, slow motion as the living creature scrambles to reach for the face again at the realisation that it cannot fly. cut.

the living water crashes violently onto the hard ground, shattering itself into a million pieces. a bright red dye stains the ground where the remnants of our creature lay. cut.

our pale hero jerks himself up, and stares blankly into the distance. cut to a POV of the man. a steady shot, followed by frantic panning left and right with slight jerking motions. cuts back to the man as he collapses back onto the couch and covers his face with a pillow. heavy breathing eschews. cut and roll credits.

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