![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
featherynscale... or my brain is really stupid when left unattended for long periods of time. Last night's Weird Dream Theater ran an extended cut of stupid, in fact.
In this story (which, through the magic of Brain-O-Vision, I was able to simultaneously participate in and watch on television),![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
triadruid, kittenpants and I were all American soldiers, fighting in WWII. Due to a freak accident, we were trapped in a bunker with two Nazis, who for the purpose of the story were called Stan and Jack (I actually get this level of detail in my dreams, I'm not just making it up for continuity here -- triadruid's name was Jim). We believed that a) we could not get out of the bunker, and that b) we were the only representatives left of our respective armies, so it didn't seem productive to kill each other. Also, the bunker was part of, or connected to, a device which (in a malfunction, probably) made us all immune to age and disease and resistant to other damage, essentially immortal.
So then, the five of us were some sort of superheroes for a Really Long Time. We found that, by the time that we got out of the bunker, decades had perhaps passed, and we had more in common with each other than with anybody else in the world, so we were working together. And we vanquished a great many perils. But eventually, we got tired of living in a world that no longer worked the way we thought it should, or something, and retreated to our home, which was one floor of a high-rise apartment building on the edge of a city. (At this point, thekittenpants and I who are sitting on the couch watching this story unfold on the tele are saying to each other, "yeah, right.")
And all goes well for a time, with the exception of the fact that we began to notice that Stan the Nazi was going completely and utterly batshit insane. Other than that, though, everything was pretty good. And then, one day, the food delivery didn't come. We wait for a reasonable length of time, and then decide to leave our lair to see what has happened. The apartment building is literally on the edge of town, which is to say that on one side, there were city streets, and on the other side, there was a two-lane road, with fields beyond. This was important because when we got to the ground floor, we could look out into the fields and see that something was Horribly Wrong.
Out there, several hundred 'bugs' the size of a person's face hovered, in perfect Space Invaders formation. Here and there, a lurching human figure stood. Clearly, we were dealing with a zombie/insect apocalypse. This turned out to be true -- the bugs (which looked a lot like large moths, except with bizarre long stingers) would sting a person, who would then become a flesh-eating zombie. The bugs lived around but not yet in the city, so everyone had retreated into the city's core. We went there for more information, and discovered that the threat had galvanized the city into a single family who knew that everyone's survival depended on networks of mutual trust and respect, and that they all had to take care of each other. (Thekittenpants and I on the couch said, "Pity, now that they've figured out how to be decent human beings, they'll all be massacred."
In the story, we decide that this is probably the case, and we're not going to let that happen. After all, we're damned near immortal, and we've got a ridiculous lot of weaponry, and we can protect these people from the zombie menace! We retreat to the lair to study the problem. It turns out that only the insect sting makes a zombie, a simple zombie bite won't do it. So we kill the bugs, and everybody is safe, right? We get kitted up to go do this thing.
And we do -- we slaughter hundreds of bugs, with never a scratch. And we notice that dusk is approaching, and it's time to go home, and live to fight another day. Superheroing is hard work! All is well until we get to the building. The elevator door opens, and there is a beautiful camera shot where we the audience see that there is a bug inside the elevator but we the characters do not. The bug swoops down and catches us unawares. It stingskittenpants through the chest, but doesn't get to deliver its full venom load, because I reach over and pull it out. This just makes the bug mad. It slips my grasp, and flies off, then turns to make another run at her. I try to stop it, but only succeed in getting my hand in its path. It stings me through the third finger of my right hand, all the way through. I pull it out and smash it against the wall, but by then it is Way Too Late. I will spare you here the vivid detail of what the wounds look like and how they act, even though I can still see it clearly in my mind.
(kittenpants and I on the couch at this point get engaged in a conversation about something we know from reading imdb about a truck that will be used in the last scene, which makes us think that someone will survive and drive off. We will turn out to be correct.) triadruid/Jim, Jack and Stan herd us into the elevator and back up into the lair. There is a general expectation that we will be tough enough to survive the bug poison and not be turned into zombies. All they have to do, they think, is let us sweat out the poison. So we are bundled off into a bedroom, and covered in a pile of blankets, and the others leave the room.
Some time later, we turn. Jim and the Nazis are wrong, there is no resisting the zombie poison. We start to sort of roll around and moan in the bed, in a very zombie-like fashion. Jim/triadruid walks by the door and makes another incorrect assumption -- he thinks that the sounds and movement mean that we have recovered and are having sex. So he comes in, and climbs in bed with us in the darkened room. We rend him limb from limb in about twenty-five seconds. There is a voice-over commemorating the tragic irony of the event.
The Nazis hear this and come in to investigate, but they were bright enough to bring in semi-automatic weapons. They dispatch us quickly, but messily. They then apparently decide that they have had enough of this, and perhaps that it is time to move on to a new place, or maybe go back to Germany. (I don't know what country we are in, or how we got there, but that's not important, is it?) They pile on all the weapons we had in the lair onto the aforementioned truck. Outside, the zombies are forming ranks -- they will have to break the line. They are equipped to do it, too -- the whole zombie-fighting kit. They've got guns, grenades, a flamethrower, some of those chakram things like on Xena, the whole deal. They head off in the truck towards the zombie lines, guns blazing. Stan is frothing at the mouth and firing randomly. They hit the line and it seems to break, but then the zombies close in around them. Jack is pulled from the truck and ripped apart.
Stan continues on, driving and shooting, raving and frothing, and somehow he makes it. The last shot is him leaving the zombies behind in the dust and heading out for safe country. The credits roll.kittenpants and I think this film was crap.
So I was tellingtriadruid about this this morning, and he says to me, "Write that down -- you could develop that script, and the Sci-Fi Mansquito Channel would buy that. It's got everything - zombies, giant bugs, lesbian sex, everything!" And I'm thinking, even if they would, why would I want to be a party to that? No good, I say, no good. They'd have to pay me enough to keep me in angora for the rest of my life.
In this story (which, through the magic of Brain-O-Vision, I was able to simultaneously participate in and watch on television),
triadruid, kittenpants and I were all American soldiers, fighting in WWII. Due to a freak accident, we were trapped in a bunker with two Nazis, who for the purpose of the story were called Stan and Jack (I actually get this level of detail in my dreams, I'm not just making it up for continuity here -- triadruid's name was Jim). We believed that a) we could not get out of the bunker, and that b) we were the only representatives left of our respective armies, so it didn't seem productive to kill each other. Also, the bunker was part of, or connected to, a device which (in a malfunction, probably) made us all immune to age and disease and resistant to other damage, essentially immortal. So then, the five of us were some sort of superheroes for a Really Long Time. We found that, by the time that we got out of the bunker, decades had perhaps passed, and we had more in common with each other than with anybody else in the world, so we were working together. And we vanquished a great many perils. But eventually, we got tired of living in a world that no longer worked the way we thought it should, or something, and retreated to our home, which was one floor of a high-rise apartment building on the edge of a city. (At this point, the
kittenpants and I who are sitting on the couch watching this story unfold on the tele are saying to each other, "yeah, right.") And all goes well for a time, with the exception of the fact that we began to notice that Stan the Nazi was going completely and utterly batshit insane. Other than that, though, everything was pretty good. And then, one day, the food delivery didn't come. We wait for a reasonable length of time, and then decide to leave our lair to see what has happened. The apartment building is literally on the edge of town, which is to say that on one side, there were city streets, and on the other side, there was a two-lane road, with fields beyond. This was important because when we got to the ground floor, we could look out into the fields and see that something was Horribly Wrong.
Out there, several hundred 'bugs' the size of a person's face hovered, in perfect Space Invaders formation. Here and there, a lurching human figure stood. Clearly, we were dealing with a zombie/insect apocalypse. This turned out to be true -- the bugs (which looked a lot like large moths, except with bizarre long stingers) would sting a person, who would then become a flesh-eating zombie. The bugs lived around but not yet in the city, so everyone had retreated into the city's core. We went there for more information, and discovered that the threat had galvanized the city into a single family who knew that everyone's survival depended on networks of mutual trust and respect, and that they all had to take care of each other. (The
kittenpants and I on the couch said, "Pity, now that they've figured out how to be decent human beings, they'll all be massacred."In the story, we decide that this is probably the case, and we're not going to let that happen. After all, we're damned near immortal, and we've got a ridiculous lot of weaponry, and we can protect these people from the zombie menace! We retreat to the lair to study the problem. It turns out that only the insect sting makes a zombie, a simple zombie bite won't do it. So we kill the bugs, and everybody is safe, right? We get kitted up to go do this thing.
And we do -- we slaughter hundreds of bugs, with never a scratch. And we notice that dusk is approaching, and it's time to go home, and live to fight another day. Superheroing is hard work! All is well until we get to the building. The elevator door opens, and there is a beautiful camera shot where we the audience see that there is a bug inside the elevator but we the characters do not. The bug swoops down and catches us unawares. It stings
kittenpants through the chest, but doesn't get to deliver its full venom load, because I reach over and pull it out. This just makes the bug mad. It slips my grasp, and flies off, then turns to make another run at her. I try to stop it, but only succeed in getting my hand in its path. It stings me through the third finger of my right hand, all the way through. I pull it out and smash it against the wall, but by then it is Way Too Late. I will spare you here the vivid detail of what the wounds look like and how they act, even though I can still see it clearly in my mind.(
kittenpants and I on the couch at this point get engaged in a conversation about something we know from reading imdb about a truck that will be used in the last scene, which makes us think that someone will survive and drive off. We will turn out to be correct.) triadruid/Jim, Jack and Stan herd us into the elevator and back up into the lair. There is a general expectation that we will be tough enough to survive the bug poison and not be turned into zombies. All they have to do, they think, is let us sweat out the poison. So we are bundled off into a bedroom, and covered in a pile of blankets, and the others leave the room.Some time later, we turn. Jim and the Nazis are wrong, there is no resisting the zombie poison. We start to sort of roll around and moan in the bed, in a very zombie-like fashion. Jim/
triadruid walks by the door and makes another incorrect assumption -- he thinks that the sounds and movement mean that we have recovered and are having sex. So he comes in, and climbs in bed with us in the darkened room. We rend him limb from limb in about twenty-five seconds. There is a voice-over commemorating the tragic irony of the event.The Nazis hear this and come in to investigate, but they were bright enough to bring in semi-automatic weapons. They dispatch us quickly, but messily. They then apparently decide that they have had enough of this, and perhaps that it is time to move on to a new place, or maybe go back to Germany. (I don't know what country we are in, or how we got there, but that's not important, is it?) They pile on all the weapons we had in the lair onto the aforementioned truck. Outside, the zombies are forming ranks -- they will have to break the line. They are equipped to do it, too -- the whole zombie-fighting kit. They've got guns, grenades, a flamethrower, some of those chakram things like on Xena, the whole deal. They head off in the truck towards the zombie lines, guns blazing. Stan is frothing at the mouth and firing randomly. They hit the line and it seems to break, but then the zombies close in around them. Jack is pulled from the truck and ripped apart.
Stan continues on, driving and shooting, raving and frothing, and somehow he makes it. The last shot is him leaving the zombies behind in the dust and heading out for safe country. The credits roll.
kittenpants and I think this film was crap. So I was telling
triadruid about this this morning, and he says to me, "Write that down -- you could develop that script, and the 
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Your brainscape is like Lemuria, Atlantis and Mu
Date: 2006-11-17 08:17 pm (UTC)Re: Your brainscape is like Lemuria, Atlantis and Mu
Date: 2006-11-17 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-17 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-17 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-17 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-17 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-18 04:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-18 05:59 am (UTC)If you make that movie can I be Jack or Stan? I'll bring my own Jackboots!