Friday, August 1, 2008

FSW: Procrastination Edition

The third week of our themed entries. And, true to the theme, I waited until the last minute to start working on it. Not that I haven't been mulling the idea over in my head all week. But still...

Next week's theme is "Disney" for those of you playing along at home.

Richard is already up with a scene from the
historical moon mission.

Mine doesn't have nearly the honorable lineage.


Procrastination

(We see a television screen. A talking head news anchor.)

ANCHOR: And today is the 75th Anniversay of the passing of James McAveney. Mr. McAveney's passing is notable primarily because he was the last person known to have died in the past 75 years.

(The channel changes. We see a reporter standing in the middle of a massive crowd of people.)

REPORTER: Things have only gotten worse. With death rates still at zero, the planet's resources have been pushed to the brink. And with land becoming a scarce commodity as well, desperate people are looking to man-made islands to save the ever increasing population.

(The channel changes. A Reporter is talking to a distraught businessman.)

BUSINESSMAN: We thought it was a fluke at first. But it's been really hard to run a funeral home when there are no funerals.

REPORTER: I understand this has been particularly trying on your wife.

BUSINESSMAN: Yeah, well, she tried to commit suicide a while back, but it didn't work. I came home and she was just hanging from banister, frustrated that she had failed. Guess it was her third attempt that day too.

(We cut to a lavishly decorated office lobby. A beautiful woman sits behind the desk. The door opens and an incredible, white light fills the room. A voice emanates from the light and seems to be coming from everywhere at once.)

GOD: Is he in?

RECEPTIONIST: One moment, please. (Into intercom) Sir, the Great I Am is here to see you.

DEATH: (On speakerphone) Sweet! Send him in.

(We're in the Death's office. It looks like something from Edward Gorrey's nightmares. God enters.)

GOD: We need to talk. You've fallen behind on your quotas.

(We see a hooded figure standing in front of a large screen TV. A large sickle leans against one wall. He holds a Wii remote in his bony hand which he swings like a tennis racket.)

DEATH: Have you played this thing? It's like you're actually playing tennis. But without all the wear and tear on your joints. Amazing.

(Death continues to play. God just shakes his head and sighs.)

BLACKOUT

1 comments:

R.A. Porter said...

Truly, Death takes a holiday. :)

Nice.