Friday, July 25, 2014

"2001" - the short version

Rocky outcropping. An ebony-black, shining monolith stands, emitting the distorted strains of Ligeti’s “Atmospheres.” 

Monolith: Eeeeeee…eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

The sound draws a tribe of protohumans. They leap up and down, shrieking. 

Protohumans: Ooooooo! Oooooooooooooooo!

Monolith: Eeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

Slowly, slowly, they edge closer. 

Monolith: Eeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

“Moonwatcher” the tribe leader, gets closest of all. He tentatively extends his hand. Almost touching it. The monolith gets louder… 

Monolith: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

With the timeless gesture of every dude who's ever manhandled a TV on the fritz, Moonwatcher whacks the monolith with the back of his hairy hand.

The monolith shuts up.

Moonwatcher snorts. 

The protohumans return to their caves.



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