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NOTE:
You may wish to avoid reading or participating in this thread until you've seen Matrix: Reloaded - there may be spoilers in this thread, and anyway, seeing the parody before the movie may cause distress.
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
A man in a white suit sits in a room full of mirrors, his eyes closed.
. COLONEL
. I know you're there. Your presence
. is self-evident. I know what you've
. come for. Everything about you is so
. miserably predictable, with your pewling
. desire for the familiar and your organic
. needs.
A single figure appears out of the air. The man (OWEN) wears dusty black jeans and a black t-shirt.
. OWEN
. You're not playing the game.
. COLONEL
. I'm tired of it. This ceaseless repetition
. of quasi-solipsisms. And look at you, with
. your Versace looks and your popcorn brain.
. OWEN
. That's why I'm here. We can rebrand
. you.
. COLONEL
. Bullshit. I'm an icon. Look out of the
. window.
He gestures, and the screens show a city below, peppered with red and white fast-food restaurants. We move, slowly, then faster, to the screens.
THROUGH THE SCREEN - VFX
We smash through the screen into the night. We dive down to the street level and pass restaurant after restaurant, all with the COLONEL's face on the front.
. COLONEL (O.C.)
. Do you see? This world is made entirely of
. chicken. And yet, no one knows what chicken
. actually tastes like - because we flavour it
. with my secret recipe. It is the chicken that
. has been pulled over your eyes, to blind you
. to the truth.
We fall upwards, away from the street, and into the dark, which becomes:
INT. OFFICE - NIGHT
The darkness in the COLONEL's eye.
. COLONEL
. I have won, and there are no more worlds
. to conquer.
. OWEN
. Colonel Sanders, it doesn't have to be this
. way. You could be so much more. A villain.
. A monster. A God. I'm not just any
. consultant. I am the one you need.
The wall explodes inwards, shattered fragments of glass make a vortex around them both. OWEN deflects the glass. Another man is framed in the gap. He bears a striking resemblance to HUGO WEAVING. He stares at OWEN.
. SMITH
. Well hello, Mr. Anderson.
To be continued...? |
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