EXT. but really INT. – a stormy, misty, polystyreney set magically manages to stay upright long enough for a hag and posh model to spout cryptic nonsense about the balance of power on their desolate planet.
The hag moves around a lot to keep warm, asking the posh model if it’s really time or if she should go back to her Roy Chubby Brown vid.
‘Everything is in place.’ The posh model points to the stars. ‘Those three ships with huge flashlights are laying a trap for he who cannot die.’
‘Then we’re bringing them down here?’
The hag rubs her hand up and down her wooden staff, staring at the posh model’s white gown.
‘What is it?’
‘You look cold.’
‘I am ethereal.’
‘They gave me a cloak and I’m ethereal too.’
‘You are the dark power, destruction.’
‘Wow…you’re really in character…is that the only way to get through this?’
The posh model coughs, bending down to the hag. ‘I’m wearing a thin gown in the middle of winter…cos Terry said it would look ethereal.’
‘Luv, you can see your nipples from Albania.’ Continue reading