Ross Bender wrote:
Spring 2007. University City Village lay in ruins. Teetotallers, many
of them AME deacons, wandered the streets harassing drunken yuppies,
weekend oenophiles, and smashed cars.
(Soundtrack: Adagio by Samuel Barber)
NARRATOR: Wounded dogs roamed at will, seeking out radioactive cats for
automatic barbecues. The lavapit that was aonce Clark Park continued to
host festivals, now known as Burning Man. The mutants-- the inheritors
of this hell once called the Green Earth-- lived in the underground
remnants of the Mill Creek, seeking out the pieces of shattered Penn
students to cook in the ruins of Abbraccio. The weather itself had
turned its terrible wrath upon Man, bringing down meteor storms. Then
fireballs. Then rains of ice weasels, which fell into chimneys to feast
on yummy radioactive soot that tasted, well, not really tasted _like_,
but... well, you know those Lorna Doone crackers? Imagine if you took a
handful of those, and ground them into a really fine powder, and you
used _that_ instead of sugar on a big stack of purple Necco wafers,
right? Okay, you got that? Well, that's what radioactive soot tasts like
to ice weasels. So they're eating that after they get dropped out of the
sky, and... Oh, yeah. It's snowing in April, too.
(A shadow enters the screen; mutants look up in awe and fear.)
NARRATOR: Into this hell has come a man. Born of ice and steel, he has
come to... Uh, Frank?
DIRECTOR: Uh.. yeah, Steve? Is there a problem?
NARRATOR: Isn't this kind of... you know...
DIRECTOR: Steve, just read the lines, okay?
NARRATOR: No, really, Frank, I can't read this. It's fascist.
DIRECTOR: Fascist? Whaddya mean fascist? You're the voice over guy. Just
read the lines, and we can go eat lunch at noon like human beings do.
NARRATOR: (Sigh) Into this hell has come a man. Born of ice and steel,
he has come to wage war upon the mutant hordes. To retake power for the
humans clean of mutation, To purge once and for all the scourge of
degenerated oh dear Christ, Frank, I will NOT read any more of this
Teutonic Superman Nazi BULLSHIT, I don't CARE how much the studio paid
for that CGI work, I am NOT going to be PART of this... no, I'm not
gonna shut up, Frank, I can egt on the phone and in _five minutes_ I can
have the whole voiceover UNION on a picket line and you'll have to hire
your scab brother with the stutter to sell your stupid movie to those
goddamn comic book geeks
(tape ends)
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