Wifi Kitty

So yeah, apparently I now only write comedy sketches. This one is based on a hilarious conversation. Enjoy.






INT. STUDIO APARTMENT - MIDDAY

RYAN bursts into the apartment, surprising his roommate,
NOZZLE, who is reading a magazine entitled, "Fuckbag Weekly."
Ryan is carrying with him a cage for small animals.

RYAN
Hey Nozzle, guess what?

NOZZLE
You've decided to kill yourself?

RYAN
Even better! I've gotten one of
those brand new wifi-enabled cats!

NOZZLE
Like the ones featured on those
late night mad science
infomercials?

RYAN
The very same!

NOZZLE
Well come on man, let's see it.

Ryan places the carrier on the table and opens the door. A
cat steps out. It is a normal goddamn cat.

NOZZLE (CONT'D)
I don't get it, it just looks like
a cat.

RYAN
Huh.

NOZZLE
I mean, does it have a screen, or
like a keyboard or something.

Ryan lifts up the cats tail.

RYAN
This might be a USB port.

NOZZLE
Well this blows.

RYAN
Yeah, I guess it was too good to be
true.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Not so, guys!

RYAN
Really?

NOZZLE
Holy shit, you can hear him too?

ANNOUNCER
Your wireless-enabled cat may not
be like the computers you're used
to, but rest assured, it is fully
equipped to access the Internet
using all the latest wireless
standards.

NOZZLE
I thought I was going crazy.

RYAN
Alright, I can't wait!

NOZZLE
Last week, he told me to burn
things.

RYAN
So, how do I turn it on?

ANNOUNCER
That's the beauty of the wireless
cat. It's always on!

RYAN
Wow!

NOZZLE
I've been seeing a psychiatrist for
the last four years.

RYAN
So, how do I, like...
(quietly)
Use it?

ANNOUNCER
It's working right now!

RYAN
Wait, so I don't get to--

DING DONG! The doorbell rings!

ANNOUNCER
Hey, you'd better get that!

NOZZLE
Why do you hate me so?

ANNOUNCER
Sounds like your new kitty has
ordered you up something good!

RYAN
Oh boy!

He answers the door. A somewhat angry DELIVERY MAN hands him
a package.

DELIVERY MAN
Hey, here are your biscuits.

RYAN
Biscuits?

NOZZLE
Biscuits.

ANNOUNCER
Biscuits!

NOZZLE
The cat ordered biscuits?

RYAN
I guess?

NOZZLE
Are they cat biscuits?

ANNOUNCER
Nope, regular biscuits!

NOZZLE
Shut up!

ANNOUNCER
Bite me, asshole. Why don't you go
kill your family?

NOZZLE
Not this shit again.

RYAN
I don't understand. The cat orders
biscuits... over the internet?

NOZZLE
What kind of outfit sells biscuits
over the internet?

RYAN
I don't really like biscuits.

NOZZLE
Wait, who just paid for that?

RYAN
Does the cat do anything useful?

ANNOUNCER
Nope, it just orders biscuits!

NOZZLE
I mean, neither of us paid for it,
and I don't think the cat has a
source of income, as far as I know.

RYAN
What the fuck? Why does it do that?

ANNOUNCER
The cat isn't conscious of the
biscuit ordering process, it's just
the nature of its biology. In the
presence of wireless signals, it
will order biscuits.

NOZZLE
Was there some sort of fraud
involved? Are we party to fraud
now?

The doorbell rings again. Once again, the delivery man hands
Ryan another package.

DELIVERY MAN
Boy, you sure do love biscuits,
huh?

RYAN
No, I don't!

DELIVERY MAN
Sure you don't, buddy. But I've got
seven more deliveries today, and
all of them are for you.

RYAN
Why would I do that?

DELIVERY MAN
Hey, don't look at me, I just
deliver the things. You're the
biscuit-loving weirdo.

NOZZLE
Excuse me sir, who paid for these
biscuits?

RYAN
Wait, so you're just going to leave
now and come back seven times
today?

DELIVERY MAN
Yeah, it's our policy to only have
one delivery out at a time. Make
sure the biscuits are as fresh as
possible, you know?

NOZZLE
What is your business model? How do
you make money off mail-order
biscuits?

RYAN
Man, I hate this cat.

ANNOUNCER
You could kill it!

NOZZLE
Dude, it's telling you to kill the
cat!

RYAN
I'm not killing the fucking cat!

DELIVERY MAN
Whoa, what the hell are you two
talking about?

ANNOUNCER
He doesn't know, kill him too!

NOZZLE
You can't hear that?

DELIVERY MAN
Hear what?

ANNOUNCER
Kill the unbeliever!

NOZZLE
The disembodied voice that's
telling us to kill you.

ANNOUNCER
Make him suffer!

DELIVERY MAN
Jesus Christ, what the fuck is
wrong with you people? If you
weren't my best and only customers,
I'd be running the fuck away right
now.

RYAN
Look, I'm really sorry, but we
don't really want any more
biscuits, could you please just
take us off your list?

ANOTHER DELIVERY MAN appears at the door.

ANOTHER DELIVER MAN
Got an order of fresh biscuits
here.

DELIVERY MAN
Who the fuck is this?

NOZZLE
Holy shit, there are two door to
door biscuit delivery services in
this town?!

DELIVERY MAN
Oh, I see how it is!

RYAN
Damn it cat, stop ordering
biscuits!

The cat licks itself.

NOZZLE
I mean seriously, the demand has
just got to be ridiculously low.

Improbably, YET ANOTHER DELIVERY MAN appears.

YET ANOTHER DELIVERY MAN
Biscuits!

NOZZLE
HOW?!

RYAN
No! Just no, I don't have to take
this! All of you go away, now!

ANOTHER DELIVER MAN
Hey, do you want your biscuits or
not?

RYAN
No!

YET ANOTHER DELIVERY MAN
Wait a minute, if you didn't want
biscuits, then why did you order
from three different places?

DELIVERY MAN
That's what I'd like to know.

RYAN
I didn't order the biscuits, my cat
did!

DELIVERY MAN
That's the most ridiculous thing
I've ever heard!

ANOTHER DELIVER MAN
Yeah, do you really expect us to
believe that?

YET ANOTHER DELIVERY MAN
Pathetic, really.

Suddenly there is a loud commotion just outside the door. A
POLICEMAN shouts at the delivery men, and pushes them inside
the small apartment.

POLICEMAN
Alright then, everyone inside, and
nobody move!

RYAN
Oh god, what now?

POLICEMAN
We've received reports that some
sort of fraud is occurring at this
location.

NOZZLE
I knew it!

POLICEMAN
Aha! Well, spill it then, who's
committing the fraud?

NOZZLE
Um, we don't know, actually.
Possibly the cat?

POLICEMAN
Oh, so we've got a wise guy, eh?
Well I'll fix you good.

The policeman rolls up his sleeves, and begins advancing on
Nozzle, but before he can reach him, a SECOND POLICEMAN
bursts in.

SECOND POLICEMAN
Hold it right there, you!

POLICEMAN
What?!

SECOND POLICEMAN
This man is no policeman! He is an
imposter! He is a confidence
trickster, whose modus operandi is
to burst into a room and accuse the
inhabitants of fraud, and then
extort money from them once he
obtains a confession.

RYAN
Jeepers!

NOZZLE
That seems like it would have an
even lower rate of return than a
biscuit delivery service.

But then, a THIRD POLICEMAN enters the room.

THIRD POLICEMAN
Hold it right there, you two!

RYAN
Goodness, I am shocked again!

THIRD POLICEMAN
I'm afraid you two have been had.
You see, neither of these men are
police officers.

NOZZLE
You don't say.

THIRD POLICEMAN
No, you see they are in fact in
collusion, and what you have seen
today is all part of an intricate
and deadly confidence game. In
fact, you could call it... the
perfect con.

RYAN
The perfect con?!

THIRD POLICEMAN
That's right, the perfect con. But
that's not all! Everything that has
happened here has all been a part
of their dastardly plan. The
delivery men are shills, you will
find that the biscuit companies
they represent do not exist.

DELIVERY MAN
Your mother doesn't exist.

NOZZLE
Ha! I knew it! You faking fakers!

THIRD POLICEMAN
That's right, everyone knows that
the real biscuit delivery services
deliver their biscuits in the
morning, while the biscuits are
still fresh.

He reaches into his pocket and removes a biscuit, taking a
long, indulgent bite out of it.

NOZZLE
God damn it!

RYAN
What about the cat, was the cat in
on it too?

THIRD POLICEMAN
What's wrong with you? It's a cat,
how could it be in on it?

RYAN
Well, I just thought--

THIRD POLICEMAN
No, you didn't think, that's
exactly the problem.
Maybe next time you'll take your
time and pick your words carefully.

RYAN
I'm sorry.

THIRD POLICEMAN
The cat was, however, a prop in
their game. You see, there's no
such thing as a wifi-enabled cat.

He waits, seemingly expecting something.

THIRD POLICEMAN (CONT'D)
What, no gasps?

NOZZLE
It's actually not all that
surprising.

DELIVERY MAN
Neither is your mother.

NOZZLE
Hey, shut the fuck up.

RYAN
So wait, what about that announcer?

THIRD POLICEMAN
Oh, you mean--

He reaches behind the couch, and drags out the announcer by
his collar.

THIRD POLICEMAN (CONT'D)
This asshole?

RYAN
You! You've been behind our couch!

NOZZLE
For... four years?

ANNOUNCER
They call it the long con for a
reason, assholes.

RYAN
How did we not notice him back
there?

NOZZLE
Fuck if I know.

THIRD POLICEMAN
Gentlemen, you should consider
yourselves lucky that I showed up
when I did. You could have lost a
lot of money to these crooks.

NOZZLE
How, exactly?

THIRD POLICEMAN
Oooh, actually, you know what? I
just remembered I'm double parked.
Do either of you have 25 cents for
the meter?

RYAN
Oh, yeah.

Ryan withdraws a quarter, and hands it to him.

THIRD POLICEMAN
That's how, suckers! See you later!

DELIVERY MAN
Yeah, so long, douchebags!

POLICEMAN
You two really are stupid.

ANNOUNCER
You should vacuum behind your
couch, it's filthy back there.

They all exit the apartment, leaving Ryan and Nozzle alone
with the cat. They stand there for a few seconds, until:

FOURTH POLICEMAN
Hold it right there, you three!
Nobody-- Oh dear.

NOZZLE
Yeah, you just missed them.

FOURTH POLICEMAN
Oh man, did they already make the
score?

RYAN
Yeah, they took our quarter and
everything.

FOURTH POLICEMAN
Man, I hate those guys.

NOZZLE
Hey, cheer up, we just happen to
have one of those new wifi-enabled
cats.

FOURTH POLICEMAN
Really? Wow, I wish I had one of
those!

NOZZLE
I'd let it go for five bucks.

FOURTH POLICEMAN
You've got yourself a deal!

They run toward each other, the music swells, and they kiss.

THE END.

46 Pages of Penis Jokes

INT. BBC OFFICE - DAY

The old, stodgy BBC CONTROLLER sits at his desk, staring
coldly at the young hotshot writer sitting across from him,
our hero, BRIAN GUMPTION.

CONTROLLER
Mr. Gumption, do you know why I've
called you in here today?

BRIAN
Um, no sir, I can't say that I do.

CONTROLLER
It's about the reviews of your
show.

BRIAN
Oh, they're fantastic, aren't they?
People really seem to like it.

CONTROLLER
I'm afraid there's a problem with
them.

BRIAN
Problem?

CONTROLLER
I regret to inform you that your
program does not meet the
incredibly high standards required
here at the BBC.

BRIAN
I'm sorry, I just don't understand.
All the reviews I've seen have been
so positive.

CONTROLLER
It's not so much the quality of the
reviews, as their content.

BRIAN
The content of the reviews? All due
respect, but how exactly am I
supposed to control that?

CONTROLLER
Here, I'll read you an example.
(he picks one up)
'The BBC has commissioned a new
children's television program
following the exploits of a
mischievous little goblin named
Drummond Cox. Filled with marvelous
storytelling for the little ones,
Goblin Cox is sure to provide fun
for the whole family.'

BRIAN
Sounds pretty positive to me.

CONTROLLER
I don't think you're paying
attention to the right thing. Here,
let me read you a few more. 'Goblin
Cox is great fun.' 'Our family
couldn't get enough of Goblin Cox.'
'For entertainment, you could do a
lot worse than Goblin Cox.' 'Goblin
Cox is a great way for your kids to
spend an afternoon.'

BRIAN
See what I mean? They're all raves!
And they stayed on message too,
that's what's really important.

CONTROLLER
(sharply)
The problem with your series is its
title!

Brian is suddenly a bit taken aback.

BRIAN
The title? I don't get it. What's
wrong with Goblin Cox?

CONTROLLER
Everything! It's suggestive!

BRIAN
Well yes, it suggests the name of
the main character, and his status
as a goblin. You can't get any more
concise than that.

CONTROLLER
You know what I mean, Brian. We
can't bloody well have all the
entertainment magazines saying
things like, 'for my child, 3 p.m.
on Saturdays can't come fast enough
so he can start Goblin Cox.' It's
embarrassing.

BRIAN
Oh please, children can't be
excited about things? I know this
country has an image of being stuck
up, but--

CONTROLLER
Don't play dumb with me. I'm on to
you. You think you've gotten
something past us because we saw
the title and signed off on it, but
imagine my surprise when I turned
on my television this morning to
hear about how our children have
all been caught up in a 'fever of
Goblin Cox!'

BRIAN
It is sweeping the nation.

CONTROLLER
Not anymore it's not! I'm pulling
your show.

BRIAN
That's absurd! Pulling a show
because of its title!

CONTROLLER
It's not absurd when the title is
just a veiled reference to--
(under his breath)
Penises...

BRIAN
I BEG YOUR PARDON!

CONTROLLER
Well, it's true.

BRIAN
I fail to see how you can get
penises out of Goblin Cox!

CONTROLLER
I'm sorry Brian, the decision has
been made.

BRIAN
The public isn't going to stand for
this! Children love Goblin Cox!

CONTROLLER
That's another thing. It's not just
the title. I actually read one of
your scripts and it turns out
they're absolutely packed with
immature puns. It was nothing but
46 pages of penis jokes!

BRIAN
You sick bastard!

CONTROLLER
What?

BRIAN
You disgust me. Can't even read a
script for a children's television
program without perceiving all
manner of filth. Penises indeed!
Well I'm not going to let this show
get taken off the air for your
perversion. I say let the children
enjoy Goblin Cox!

CONTROLLER
Nobody. Is going to be enjoying.
Goblin. Bloody. Cox.

They stare daggers at each other across the desk, silently
seething, until:

BRIAN
Okay, fine.

CONTROLLER
Fine?

BRIAN
Fair enough, take it off the air.

CONTROLLER
Really?

BRIAN
Yeah, I never much cared for Goblin
Cox anyhow.

CONTROLLER
Hm, I thought you would offer more
resistance than that.

BRIAN
Well, it's my duty to serve the
public interest.

CONTROLLER
Very well then.

A beat.

BRIAN
Say, with Goblin Cox cancelled,
you've got a slot to fill, haven't
you?

CONTROLLER
Yes, I suppose we do.

BRIAN
Well, I've got this idea. It's
called 'Arse Ramming Battle
Buggers.'

CONTROLLER
Sounds delightful. Approved.

They shake hands, and Brian walks out with a smile on his
face.

The Gatekeeper?

Games of Winter

Well, it's officially the last day of the 2010 Winter Olympics(TM/MC), so this should be the perfect time to post my wrap up of the events of the last 16 days, and my final thoughts on this year's Olympics(TM/MC). Unfortunately, I cannot do this because I did not watch a single event, as the Olympics(TM/MC) are dreadful boring.

Seriously, what is up with the Olympics(TM/MC)? Who the hell watches the Olympics(TM/MC)? A lot of people, actually. Or at least, a lot of people follow it. But all it amounts to in the end is a sort of "my dad can beat up your dad" affair, with nations standing in for the parental units. Everyone's all a twitter(tm) about how many medals their country has, and how many golds, or silvers (bronze is for losers, nobody cares about bronze). The thing is, after all is said and done, and the epic pissing contest is over, nobody actually cares. Quick, how many gold medals did the US take in 1984? If you answered anything but, "I have no fucking idea," then I hate you.

So it is that every couple years, Olympic Fever(TM/MC/R/TFTP) absolutely sweeps the nation (I can't really speak for the world on this one. It's entirely possible that they have the same policy of going out of the heads for two weeks and then never speaking of it again, which would leave me with absolutely no point of reference for this sort of thing). We hear names of past champions, spoken with reverence, and then their names are sealed into a jar, and placed into a dark cellar, the door carefully locked from the outside, remaining unheard and un-uttered for four years until we once again steal into the cellar and excitedly pry all the jars open to bask in the raw blinding light of the names of these kings of athletes, like being in the presence of God(TM) himself for two glorious weeks!

Perhaps the Olympics(TM/MC) simply aren't my thing, you might say. Well, I might say, why don't you go cram some dicks into your mouth? Seriously, go eat a dick, and another dick, and another, until you have a thousand dicks in your mouth, and you choke to death on dicks. Or, to put it another way, shut up. Show me someone for whom the Olympics(TM/MC) are their thing. And don't tell me some athlete, that's like saying that the world paste eating championships are important because people train day and night so they can someday swallow gallons of paste in a single sitting and finally earn the recognition that they are exceptional at what they do. And if you have a problem with that example because I just made it up, then here is my rebuttal: dog shows. Just because you can fill a stadium doesn't mean that what you are doing is noteworthy.

And finally, lest you suggest that I am simply not classy enough to appreciate the Olympics, I shall remind you that I am hella classy. Of this there can be no doubt. Take, for example, this comic:











See? I totally could have had the ass holding the gun between its cheeks. But I didn't. Because I'm classy.

In conclusion, fuck the Olympics(TM/I-don't-even-care-about-this-joke-anymore).

He's the Fastest Thing Alive

Remember when I said that Super Mario Galaxy was a damned good Sonic the Hedgehog game? Well, there's a rumor going around that Sonic is going to be playable for one level of Super Mario Galaxy 2. I really hope this turns out to be true, because I suddenly look very smart. That's right, I called that shit two years ago, bitches.

Why am I wasting an entire blog post on this, instead of Twitter(tm)ing about it? The answer is simple. It's because I enjoy wasting your time.

Beyond the Sex Palace

INT. SEX PALACE - THE END OF TIME

JEREMY sits on an ornate throne atop a pile of jewels, overlooking the Sex Palace. He sighs as he sips his brandy, while below all kinds of rude action takes place. Above him, the universe continually tears itself apart, reforming again after a short while. Next to him, a PORTER stands ready to serve him.

JEREMY
(to no one in particular)
I think I have grown tired of this place. Perhaps it is best that I move on.

PORTER
Are you certain, sir? You know you can stay here as long as you like. I assure you, once you return to your home it will be as if no time at all has passed. You could even stay here forever, if you so desire.

JEREMY
I fear for my sanity, should I stay much longer. Besides, there is work for me to do.

PORTER
If I can do nothing to dissuade you, then I have no choice but to honor your wish.

JEREMY
You can do nothing.

PORTER
Then my duty is complete, save for this: a warning, for your protection. The way back is not as simple as the one you followed here. Take heed, for many a brave man has lost his way, and cursed himself to drift forever upon the River of Souls. I pray this fate does not befall you, young master.

JEREMY
As long as I have my wits, they shall carry the day.

PORTER
We shall see, sir, we shall see. May fortune smile upon you, and you once again behold the passage of time.

Jeremy stands, placing his brandy on the armrest of the sex throne. Carefully making his way down the jewel pile, he nudges his way through the throng of intercourse, and toward the darkest corner of the palace. As he walks, there appears...


INT. PATH OF LIGHT - THE FIRST SECOND AFTER THE END OF TIME

He walks shrouded in total darkness, only the path of light is visible. He stops for a moment.

JEREMY
At last, I begin.

He walks.

He walks for a very long time.

FADE TO:

INT. PATH OF LIGHT - STILL THE FIRST SECOND AFTER THE END OF TIME, THOUGH CLEARLY MUCH LATER

He is still walking.

JEREMY
I am STILL walking.

His pace slows now, as his walk melts into an exhausted stagger. He stops to catch his breath.
He realizes with a start that the path ahead of him is beginning to melt away. He lunges forward and runs as fast as he can. All he can here is the roar of his breath and the blood rushing through his ears. He runs, and he runs, and he FUCKING RUNS.

Without warning, the path slips away beneath his feet, and he falls. Possibly forever.

FADE TO:

EXT. TREE OF LIFE - DAY?

Jeremy awakes to find himself in a meadow. There is nothing around for as far as he can see. The only thing in the meadow is the a small gnarled tree, and in front of it, and old man chiseling away at some STONE TABLETS. He is the SCRIVENER.

JEREMY
Excuse me, old man, do you know where I am?

SCRIVENER
Hm? Where you are? Oh, it's hard to say for sure. But I can say with complete certainty where you aren't, and that's right here.

JEREMY
I beg your pardon?

SCRIVENER
This place, young man. This is the one place you most definitely cannot be.

JEREMY
I can say with relative certainty that here, wherever here is, is precisely where I am.

SCRIVENER
Impossible. Nobody ever comes here. You're somebody, ain't ya?

JEREMY
Yes, that much should be obvious.

SCRIVENER
Indeed it is. So you're not here, simple as that.

JEREMY
But, by the same token, should it not be obvious that I, a person, am standing before you at this very moment, in this very place?

The scrivener eyes him with some suspicion, then nods sagely.

SCRIVENER
I suppose so. Very well, despite everything I know to be true, you do seem to be here.

JEREMY
Well, now that that's settled, where am I?

SCRIVENER
Are you daft, boy? You've just answered your own question. You're here.

JEREMY
Yes, I know that. What I'm wondering is where exactly here is?

SCRIVENER
Ah. Well, that depends.

JEREMY
(laughing)
It depends? What, pray tell, does it depend on?

The scrivener gives Jeremy an icy stare, until at last the smile disappears from his face.

JEREMY (CONT'D)
Really now, old man, you've had your fun. Now be straight with me. Where am I?

SCRIVENER
Like I said, it depends. This place, it isn't a fixed point. In fact, it's not a point at all. It's somewhat of the opposite, if you can imagine that. Picture a single place, a single moment, if you will, stretched over all of creation. Or picture all of existence perched upon the point of a pin. It's not quite like either of those things, but it's the closest way I can think of putting it. This place is no place, and it is every place. So, to know where you are, need to know where you are coming from, and where you are going. With that information, perhaps you can find yourself, and maybe you can leave this place.

JEREMY
I don't quite understand, but I think I've got the idea. I come from the Sex Palace, and I wish to go home.

SCRIVENER
Ha! I should have known to look at you, boy. Tell me, do you think yourself some kind of hero?

JEREMY
No, I've never considered myself as such.

SCRIVENER
Really. That is interesting; few find themselves in your place without some kind of noble intentions, or pretensions, as it were. Are you sure you are not a glory seeker, young'un?

JEREMY
What? No! My patience with you grows thin, old man.

SCRIVENER
Come now, there is no need to hide yourself here. In addition to the other two things, you must also know yourself to find the road ahead.

JEREMY
It wasn't selfishness! I had to come. Vanessa--

SCRIVENER
(surprised)
Hold a minute, boy. What is your name?

JEREMY
It's Jeremy. Jeremy Clarke.

SCRIVENER
Excuse me for a moment, Jeremy.

The scrivener turns, and searches through his pile of tablets. He picks one up and looks over it. His expression lowers.

SCRIVENER (CONT'D)
I see. I'm sorry to have doubted you, Jeremy.

JEREMY
What was written on that tablet?

SCRIVENER
Tell me, did you find what you were searching for?

Jeremy lowers his head.

JEREMY
No.

SCRIVENER
I'm sorry.

JEREMY
Yes, well. Will you help me now?

SCRIVENER
I will do all that I can. Unfortunately, now that I know what I know, I cannot tell you where to go.

JEREMY
What? You son of a bitch, you told me you would help me!

SCRIVENER
I will, but you must be patient.

JEREMY
I have been patient. Do you know what I've been through to get here?

SCRIVENER
I do. And I know you must face further challenges still. And though I could help you avoid those challenges, I must not. I dare not.

JEREMY
You speak as though you know my future.

SCRIVENER
I do. It is written in stone.

He indicates the tablets.

JEREMY
My destiny is written on those tablets? Let me see!
(he picks one up)
I can't make this out! What language is this?

SCRIVENER
It is not language. It is simply... a record.

JEREMY
A record?

SCRIVENER
Of all of time and eternity. Everything that has been, or shall ever be, is recorded on those tablets.

JEREMY
You mean... everything? As in all of history?

SCRIVENER
Yes, and far beyond.

JEREMY
All of creation... is on THESE tablets?

He indicates the tablets. There are only a few more than a dozen.

SCRIVENER
As I said, they are not written in language. The symbols you see are very dense, infinitely dense in fact. Your entire life, along with billions of others, is recorded right here.

He points to a tiny symbol, almost indistinguishable in the mess.

JEREMY
Curious, how amongst all these lives you were able to recognize mine.

SCRIVENER
I am well practiced at reading the tablets.

JEREMY
No, it goes beyond that. Before you even consulted the tablets, you seemed as if you knew me. It seemed as though once you figured out who I was, you suddenly began to take an interest in me, where before you were aloof. Tell me, old man, were you expecting me?

SCRIVENER
Enough, it is time for you to go.

JEREMY
Aha! So you were. And why is that? What do you know of my destiny, what is so important about my life?

SCRIVENER
Fine! I will tell you which way to go. Begin at the tree, and face your shadow--

JEREMY
Perhaps I won't go. Perhaps I'll just take this chisel and end my wretched life.
He picks up the chisel, and holds it against his temple.

SCRIVENER
Please, Jeremy, I beg you. Do not do this!

JEREMY
Then tell me!

SCRIVENER
I'm sorry.

JEREMY
Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be.

SCRIVENER
No, I'm sorry for this.

In a heartbeat, the sky turns to black, and every single blade of grass loses its hold on the ground. Jeremy once again finds himself falling into the void. We hear a splash.

CUT TO:

INT. RIVER OF SOULS - ETERNITY

Jeremy falls into the river, flailing and splashing. He drives his way up to the surface and breaks through, gasping for air. His relief is short-lived, for he is immediately pulled back down into the water.

He thrashes against the thing pulling him down, while large gray shapes float past him. He kicks, again and again, but to no effect.

Suddenly, a bony white hand grabs him by the arm. He twists out of its grip, finally bringing him face to face with the horrific entity.

Its features are human, but its appearance is ghastly. They are gray-skinned and emaciated, with most of their bones visible through their skin. All are completely hairless. Around the eyes and nose and anywhere the skin is broken, an greenish gray liquid oozes out. Their eyes are the same milky gray as their skin, and their mouths are completely black, inside and out.

The one that has grabbed Jeremy convulses in pain as Jeremy twists its wrist in his escape. Quickly realizing this, Jeremy reaches out and claws at its eyes. Its eyes burst into sludge, and it clutches its face, sinking to the bottom. The display causes the creatures below him to loosen their grip, and Jeremy breaks free, swimming as fast as he can, the monsters chasing him closely.

He breaks the surface again, but instead of stopping for breath he pushes forward as fast as he can, blindly hoping that he's heading toward some kind of shore.

He pushes forward, but is now starting to slow. He is running out of breath. Several of the creatures leap on top of him, and begin to drag him down.

He stops struggling, resigned to his fate.

Suddenly, a hand appears just above him, reaching down to him. It is not the bloodless hand of the creatures, it is pink and healthy. Jerome grabs onto it, and it pulls him up and out of the water.


INT. SHORE OF THE DAMNED - CONTINUOUS

The hand pulls Jeremy onto the shore, where he coughs and sputters for a moment. He looks up to see his rescuer, a dour-looking man, in a black cloak holding a scythe. He is DEATH.

DEATH
I... am Death.

Jeremy takes a moment to take all of this in.

JEREMY
Really?

DEATH
No, not really.

Suddenly, Death's demeanor changes completely. He becomes cheerful and manic, and more than a little eccentric.

DEATH (CONT'D)
I mean, they call me that, sure. Gotta call a fellow something, I suppose. I guess I do look the part, what with this fucking thing, eh? I don't even know why I have it to be honest. Yes, yes, it's my name, too, I should mention I suppose. Though that whole process, ugh, gives me the willies, it does. Why they'd want to name such a thing after me, I have no idea. Hehe, corn spouts, after all, know what I mean?

JEREMY
Er, no. I'm afraid I don't.

DEATH
Oh, well you know, it's jealousy. Jealousy, yeah. That's why they done it. After that whole moon cat debacle, and all that. Now, can I fetch you some tea?

Jeremy looks around, it is blackness as far as the eye can see.

JEREMY
Um, no thanks. So you're Death and that--
(points to the river)
--I take it is the River of Souls.

DEATH
Oh yeah, the river. The river, that's where most of them end up, they get stuck in there, and forget they was people. Now they're nothing but kite strings.

JEREMY
Those are people in there?

DEATH
People who forgot how to be people. Now all they do is make others like them. It's all they remember. The fork, no, um, what is it? River! The river, it turns you. Into that.

JEREMY
My God.

DEATH
Oh yes, don't expect to see him around much anymore.

JEREMY
Wait a minute, are you saying that God exists?

DEATH
God? Who said anything about God? I'm just watching the leaderboards.
(singing)
"Brother can you spare an antidote?"

JEREMY
Right, so I'm not looking forward to going through this again, but can you tell me how to get out of here?

DEATH
"Brother can you give me your--"
(he stops singing)
Oh, no. No no no no no. You can't get out. If there was a way out, don't you think I'd have found it? It's nothing but marzipan in every direction.

JEREMY
How helpful. Well, if you think of anything, I'll just be heading off in this--

DEATH
Hey, you're the guy, right?

JEREMY
Excuse me?

DEATH
You know, the guy, the guy with the stuff. The one they've all been talking about.

JEREMY
Who? Who's been talking?

DEATH
Don't play dumb, you know what it is. It's... it's damned complicated, is what it is. We've been trying to make sense of it.

JEREMY
We?

DEATH
We. You know you, me, and the guys. We few. We happy few.

JEREMY
Well, it's been nice chatting with you.

DEATH
Oh it has, believe me, the pleasure is all ours. So long, Mr. Special Destiny.

JEREMY
What did you just call me?

DEATH
You're the one, the one who changes the world.

JEREMY
How? How do I change the world?

DEATH
Hey, I don't get bogged down in details. Big picture, big picture. If the pants fit, you gotta return them. NO! Don't return them!

Beat.

DEATH (CONT'D)
Too bad you ended up here.

JEREMY
What do you mean?

DEATH
There's no way out. Special destiny?
(blows raspberry)
All gone, like ice cream. Man, I could go for ice cream.

JEREMY
But, it's destiny! How can it change?

DEATH
They changed it, the dudes. Those dudes were real mad at you, dude.

JEREMY
That's it? After all that talk of how great I am they shove me down here because I hurt the feelings of some old man?

DEATH
Hey, could be worse.

JEREMY
How?

DEATH
You could be in there.

He points to the river.

JEREMY
That's not much comfort. Either I could be a mindless zombie in there, or I could wander around out here for an eternity.

DEATH
Time makes vagabonds of us all. For you, doubly so.

Jeremy walks a few paces and sits down facing away from Death.

JEREMY
I just don't get it, why me? What have I done to deserve this. I just...
(he starts crying)
I just wanted to see her again. It's not fair. Why can't... why can't I just...

He lets it all go, all the pain and all the hopelessness he's been keeping inside. In the background, we can see Death cleaning his ears with his scythe.

Death walks over and sits down next to him.

DEATH
Looks like you're done. You've reached the end. What are you going to do now?

JEREMY
(composing himself)
I don't know.

DEATH
The way I see it, you can either go gracefully, or you can go out kicking and screaming.

JEREMY
Oh, kicking and screaming, definitely.

He laughs, somewhat relieved.

DEATH
For what it's worth,
(he points with his scythe)
I have a pretty good feeling about that direction.

JEREMY
Thanks.

DEATH
Think nothing of it, kerosene.

With a great deal of effort, Jeremy scoops himself up and sets off in the direction Death has indicated.

He walks.

And he walks.

And he walks.

FADE TO BLACK.

Here Is a List of Games I Will Not Be Buying This Tuesday:

1. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2


2. Lots of other games

Now, number two is obviously a given, but why, you might ask, am I not buying what is likely to be the best-selling, critically-acclaimed game of the year? Is it because I am mad that there are no dedicated servers on the PC version? Last I checked I'm not not a douchebag, so that's not it. Am I boycotting it because of that leaked video where you play as a terrorist and kill innocent civilians? No, but I do have some thoughts on that, but we'll get to that. The real reason I'm letting this game pass me by is because of Uncharted 2.

When the first Modern Warfare came out, I thought it was the bee's tits (which is to say, I thought it was good). It was like being in a summer blockbuster whose budget was approximately all the money in the world, and you were the reliable mute buddy of the hero of the movie. Every single scene in that game could have been the big crazy climax of the biggest, craziest Michael Bay movie.

But therein lies the problem. If every second of the game is climax, then there's no pacing to it. You spend the entire game brutally charging forward, and when you reach the end of the game, it just stops. You can't even call it anticlimactic; it's everything BUT anticlimactic.

Uncharted 2 is similarly based on a big action movie that has been financed by God, but it introduces the concept of pacing. Hot damn is that game well paced. It follows this basic pattern of a few light gun fights, gradually increasing in scale, until you approach an epic set piece, kick its ass, and then there's some nice relaxing platforming or puzzle solving while you reflect on how awesome you are. It's these quiet moments that really drive home the sense of accomplishment. In Modern Warfare, you can't really enjoy the fact that you just blew the shit out of everyone with an AC-130 because it's 30 seconds later and you're already running down a street dodging rocket fire. It says a lot that the calmest section of the game is the part where a nuclear bomb goes off.

Another thing that sets Uncharted 2 apart is the fact that you're actually the wise-cracking badass hero of the game, rather than the retarded freak who's following him around. Captain Price is obviously the hero of that game, as he's the only person with any characterization at all, and he's the one who gets to do all the cool stuff. As Nathan Drake you get to jump out of moving trains and kick people to sleep, all while spouting cool one-liners (such as, "I'll kick you to sleep."). In Modern Warfare, the only meaningful way you can interact with anything it to put bullets into it.

Oh, and there's also the fact that Uncharted is an Indiana Jones movie (not Crystal Skull, one of the good ones), which automatically trumps the Michael Bay vibe of the Modern Warfare games in terms of style. Amazing action with deep characterization is just better than anonymous explosions.

It's actually kind of a shame these games came out so close together. If Modern Warfare were coming out in, say March, I might have been interested in it. But coming just one month after Uncharted, I'm having trouble getting it up for the similar but inferior game.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the terrorist thing. Ok, so if you didn't know about this, there's a scene in the game where you apparently play as a terrorist, going through an airport killing hundreds of innocent civilians. This has upset a fair amount of people, and unleashed a low-level PR shitstorm at Infinity Ward, the game's developer. Now, I see where they were going with this, it's like that scene in a movie where you see the villain do something really villainous and terrible, and that increases your desire to see them taken down. But the problem is, that doesn't really work in a game. In the movie you're just watching the terrible thing go on, but in the game you're actively making it happen. I know that playing that part of the game won't make me go, "these guys are fucking horrible, my passion for defeating them is renewed!" It'll probably be more like, "I'm not enjoying this, I'm going to turn off the game and listen to Bob Dylan for a while."

Even worse was what came out after the story broke. The developers revealed that the before the sequence happens, a message comes up warning about the upcoming content, and offering the chance to skip the section. Bullshit. Even though this idea turns me off, I respect their prerogative as artists to include it. But pussing out like this completely ruins it for me. This is not doing the respectability of the medium any favors. True art is not optional. When you watch the Godfather, you're not offered the option to skip the horse head scene. On the other hand, if the scene is skip-able because the developers don't feel the scene is absolutely necessary, then it shouldn't be in there at all.

Another rationalization they offered is that in this scene you are in fact not an evil baby-killing terrorist, but rather an undercover agent infiltrating an evil baby-killing terrorist organization. Something was said about tough decisions in the name of the greater good, but once again: bullshit. As far as I can tell the only choice you're offered is to either take part in the mass murder, or stand by and allow it to happen. That's not a choice. "Oh gee, should I kill and eat this puppy, or just stab out both its eyes and kick it down the stairs? Which is the moral thing to do?" And I doubt either option has any real effect on how the game progresses.

The thing that really annoys me is that they could have done the exact same scene, but had you play as a civilian rather than one of the murderers. Then the scene would have exactly the desired effect of horrifying you and filling you with righteous fury. But I guess they don't want to do that because they feel it would be too similar to something they did in the first game. As it stands, the only emotion it evokes is slight disgust. Which is not ideal.

Before this came out, I might have considered picking the game up sometime around next summer, or whenever they knocked a few bucks off the price. But at this point I think I just don't care anymore. Of course, not like that's going to stop the game from selling millions of copies.

Whatever. I think I'll go play through Uncharted 2 again.