- Universe 15 added.
- Universe 16 added.
- Universe 90 added.
- Universe 1000000 added.
- 27 unknown universes added.
15 February 2020
27 January 2020
16 January 2020
This past October, I shared "Bartman vs. The Destroyer", a transcript of a short story I wrote for my fifth grade class back in 1997. I decided I would be remiss if I didn't then share scans of the actual physical copy, as they came complete with crude, partially coloured illustrations.
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Even with illustrations providing context, the story remains nonsensical if you haven't read the Bartman comics I wrote in 1996-1998 or know about Bubblehead, the anthropomorphic bubble character I created in '97. I can only imagine what the teacher made of it after I handed it in to her.
11 December 2019
09 December 2019
10 November 2019
08 November 2019
On Adolf Hyla's painting, The Divine Mercy.
GHOST OF ROD SERLING: (V.O.) In the beginning was the word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God, all things were made through him, and without him was not everything made that was made.
The Divine Mercy is suddenly replaced with William Blake's etching, The Ancient of Days.
GHOST OF ROD SERLING: (V.O.; cont'd) But we aren't going to talk about that God today, for this tale is set in a universe created by an altogether different god.
A montage of paintings depicting the six Biblical days of creation plays out across the screen.
GHOST OF ROD SERLING: (V.O.): In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.
An image of Linda Blair's face from The Exorcist exploding.
TITLE CARD: DEMENTIA 6
INT. NAIAD & RAZE'S HOME/LIVING ROOM — NIGHT
On the interior of a living room. The living room — painted in various shades of brown — is very spartan, adorned only with a few bits of furniture, a single tall lamp, and a sepia-toned photograph of Vincent Price hung upon the wall.
In an uncomfortable-looking metal chair sits NAIAD, a pretty twenty-something redhead. She keeps her hands folded in her lap with her legs closed tightly together. Wearing a blue-&-white polka dot dress, white apron with lacy pink trim, and large unwholesome smile, Naiad is the picture of the typical '50s proletarian housewife.
NAIAD: (singing) Lollipop, lollipop. O lolli, lolli, lolli, lollipop!
Parting her legs, Naiad reaches under her dress, withdraws a purple popsicle, and proceeds to suck it.
RAZE'S VOICE: (O.C.) I hope you brought enough to share with the rest of the class, young lady!
To RAZE, Naiad's husband, who stands in the living room's open doorway. Wearing black suspenders, red flannel work shirt, brown bowler cap, and large unwholesome smile, Raze is the picture of the typical '50s proletarian drunkard.
NAIAD: (stuffs popsicle back under dress; jumps to feet) Ooh, Raze! My darling, darling, darling, darling husband!
RAZE: (takes off & tosses aside bowler; embraces Naiad) Naiad! My lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely bride! You're looking swell!
Naiad & Raze begin jitterbugging around the living room floor.
NAIAD: Did you pick up your cheque?
RAZE: No! That goof boss of mine didn't give it to me! He says I've been jacking off on the job!
NAIAD: But everyone jacks off on the job! It relieves tension!
RAZE: Yeah, but he's a real Kellogg.
NAIAD: Well, I don't care so long as you still love me.
BACKSTREET BOYS: (O.C.) As long as you love me....
RAZE: (annoyed) What's this beatnik noise I'm hearing‽
NAIAD: It's not beatnik noise, dear. It's from the '90s. There are no beatniks in the '90s.
RAZE: I don't care! It's horrid! Turn it off!
Crestfallen, Naiad stops jiggerbugging and crosses over to the Victrola. Taking the record off the turntable, she throws it against the wall, shattering it.
Suddenly, a villainous-looking black man in a white suit, white cape, white mustache, white monocle, and white top hat crashes through a wall. This is LORD FAWDOR, Naiad & Raze's landlord.
LORD FAWDOR: Rent! Rent! Non-circulating pennies, nickels, dimes — four loonies and a toonie!
RAZE: No rent.
NAIAD: No rent.
LORD FAWDOR: I'm the rent.
Fawdor collapses to his knees.
LORD FAWDOR: NOOOO!!!
INT. LORD FAWDOR'S PORN STUDIO/SET — TWILIGHT
Fawdor sits in his director's chair, a cameraman beside him. Naiad & Raze are on the set, the REANIMATED CORPSES of JOHN HOLMES & SHYLA STYLEZ performing with them. Naiad is tied down to a mechanical bull, helpless as John force-feeds her blood sausage after blood sausage. Raze, chained to a pillar, is forced to watch while Shyla, crouched down between his spread legs, chugs down a 1-litre bottle of cream soda. Taking in more than she can swallow, she reels around and spews cream soda all over John and Naiad.
Fawdor grins with malevolent malice.
EXT. BUS STOP — DAY
Naiad & Raze stand at the bus stop alone, clothes tattered and sticky with dried cream soda, eyes dark, haunted.
NAIAD: Yes, hon?
RAZE: How come you never drink my cream soda?
NAIAD: I'm allergic. Allergic to cream soda.
INT. LORD FAWDOR'S PORN STUDIO/CUTTING ROOM — SUNSET
SUPERIMPOSE: POST-CREDITS SCENE!
SUPERIMPOSE: POST-CREDITS SCENE!
Fawdor is busy splitting and splicing reels of film when he hears a knock at the door. Leaving his equipment, he goes to answer it. On the other side stands NICOLAS CAGE in a black Superman costume.
SUPERCAGE: Up, up, and away!
Supercage sends a right hook into Fawdor's chin. Fawdor's head is punched clean off, sent crashing through the ceiling, leaving the raw neck stump to gush bright red blood.
Fawdor's head achieves escape velocity.
LORD FAWDOR: My God! It's full of stars!
Fawdor's head jumps to hyperspace.