If Netflix Made My Dream Last Night
WIDE SHOT OF A BRIGHT, WHITE ROOM. THE ROOM IS EMPTY. THERE ARE NO WINDOWS. NURSERY RHYMES PLAY.
IN THE CORNER IS A SMALL BOY. HE’S WEARING AN OLD FASHIONED SCHOOL UNIFORM - SHORT TROUSERS, BLAZER, TIE, ETC.
CAMERA ZOOMS UP ON THE BACK OF THE BOYS HEAD. HE TURNS AROUND.
IT’S ME. A 43 YEAR OLD BALD MAN. I LOOK SCARED.
ME: Hello? Who’s there?
A LOUD, DEEP VOICE BOOMS ACROSS THE ROOM. IT SOUNDS LIKE BRIAN BLESSED.
BRIAN BLESSED: YOU BOY!
I COWER IN FEAR.
ME: Who said that? Show yourself!
BRIAN BLESSED: EAT THE FOOD, BOY!
I LOOK UP, FRANTICALLY SEARCHING FOR THE OWNER OF THE VOICE.
ME: I’m…not allowed! I’m trying to be healthy! It’s…it’s…
BRIAN BLESSED: A WASTE OF TIME!
ME: Don’t say that!
BRIAN BLESSED: WHY ARE YOU EVEN BOTHERING? YOU’RE NOT EVEN THIN YET!
ME: Well, not quite but, erm, you know…
BRIAN BLESSED: DON’T DEPRIVE YOURSELF!
ME: I’ve only been doing it five minutes!
BRIAN BLESSED: THEN START AGAIN TOMORROW!
WIDE SHOT OF THE WHOLE ROOM. CAMERA PANS TO THE SIDE TO SHOW MY SILHOUETTE EXTENDING ACROSS THE BARE FLOOR. THE SHADOW OF MY POST-CHRISTMAS GUT GRADUALLY GROWS TO FILL THE ENTIRE SHOT.
BRIAN BLESSED: COME ON, BALDY! TASTE THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT!
ME: I suppose I could, you know, just have a little bite, maybe?
I REACH INTO MY SATCHEL AND SHEEPISHLY PULL OUT A WAGON WHEEL.
CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON WAGON WHEEL.
CLOSE UP OF MY MOUTH SALIVATING LIKE ONE OF THEM DOGS THAT PAVLOV KEPT BANGING ON ABOUT.
BRIAN BLESSED: Go on. Tuck in. Nobody will know.
ME: Promise not to tell?
BRIAN BLESSED: EAT IT!
I BITE INTO THE WAGON WHEEL. IT EXPLODES INTO A THOUSAND PIECES. I PISS THE BED AND WAKE UP SOBBING AS A BREATHY-VOCAL FEMALE CREEPILY SINGS ‘FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD’ SLOWLY ON AN ACOUSTIC GUITAR.
In reality, I had a really boring dream about cornflakes. But you can’t really post that online can you?
JOIN MY MAILING LIST AND GET EVERY NEW BLOG DELIVERED LOVINGLY TO YOUR INBOX.
JOIN THE HOUSE OF AVERY FOR BONUS CONTENT, EXCLUSIVE MERCH AND EARLY ACCESS!
Comments