Jack was involved with the movie. It played on a small, disembodied screen.
Cheering people filled a small room, surrounding a centrally-positioned old man and his equally elderly wife.
"Here you are," she said, handing him a drink.
"Thank you," he replied.
The woman leaned in for an embrace, and the old man pulled back playfully before submitting and reciprocating. A rapid gust of air swept from right to left across the screen, blowing the man's hat off. Jack let out a barking laugh. The old wife on screen laughed also, her mouth wide with mirth. Then the man opened his mouth and it was full of starfire, a radiant glow that spilled out from a set of grotesquely monstrous teeth. The man stared, open-mouthed, into the camera as the cheering room quieted. He kept the luminescent fangs bared for an uncomfortably long duration.
The scene cut to a drainage ditch littered with bags of garbage and lit with a warm orange light from the mottled sky above. The concrete channel wound away across a barren landscape towards a windswept metropolis far off in the distance. In the foreground, more cheering men stood in a roughly dispersed line. Another cut and the men dropped to the ground and began rolling along their vertical axes, synchronized, down the ditch, before they all ran up against one of the variously shaped black garbage heaps. They leaned up, raised their glasses, and drank the small amount of ale contained within, again emitting celebratory whoops. As the men cheered, the camera panned down to the ground, revealing the mangled remains of an eggplant.
