[VIDEO] Episode 1: In which there is a curious lack of lack of crocodiles
[The monitor is dark. A growling sound. A man screaming. Glass breaking.
SUDDENLY VISUALS!A hand fumbling with the transmission screen, wild flailing, too fast to make out ( Read more... )
SUDDENLY VISUALS!A hand fumbling with the transmission screen, wild flailing, too fast to make out ( Read more... )
A sword? I haven't been to Medieval Fight Club in years!
[Sensible as Cohen's advice may be, he is reluctant to take it. At first, at least, but new developments soon prompt him to reconsider. New developments being the crocodile pushing itself upwards, knocking over Bhamba's table, trapping him between the closet and the reptile.
He pulls open the metallic door and- behold, a mighty tranquilizer gun! His line of thought for the curious: "A sword is better than nothing at least, but I sure wish I had a tranquilizer gun now!"
He dodges, just as the crocodile goes in for another attack, then disappears from view. Before the crocodile can follow it is hit with a red arrow. Another red arrow ricochets off the floor. And there's one more for the crocodile.
It opens its mouth and hisses, its head reeling, its tail thrashing about wildly, knocking over and destroying the lab equipment in its vicinity for a good, long while until it finally slows down and comes to a halt with one final hiss.
There is a longer pause, something rustling in the background and Bhamba finally coming back into view, a mop in his hand, carefully giving the animal a tentative poke.]
...
Whew.
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Bravo, sir! Bravo! What should I call you~?
[Because watching a guy almost get eaten is never not entertaining, I guess.]
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The name is Bhamba. And you must be...
[He is straining to recall, obviously this is his dream, so the man HAS to be connected to somebody he knows, right?]
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Sander Cohen, the artist. A pleasure, Mr. Bhamba.
[He doesn't extrapolate on whose the pleasure must be.]
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In this particular situation it doesn't occur to him to correct Cohen that it's really Doctor Bhamba, because, well, quite frankly now that the crocodile is actually out of the way he isn't quite sure what he's supposed to be doing here, so there's a long silence during which Bhamba just smiles nervously, waiting for something to happen]
This... is usually the point where I either wake up or appear naked in front of a large audience.
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Now let's pause for a moment to appreciate the hypocrisy of Sander Cohen considering someone a parody of their chosen profession.]
You might be waiting a while then, good sir ~ unless you plan on performing a striptease for the cameras.
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You see, just as Bhamba was about to loosen his lab coat it occured to him that this is exactly the kind of prank he would play on his colleagues. You know, hiding a crocodile in their laboratory, faking a weird accent over the PA and dressing up as a mime - stuff like that.
And well, his colleagues can fake the voice of God, so whatever they did here, it looks like a piece of cake in comparison. And here, believe it or not, comes serious Bhamba with an important announcement that is kind of but really not really directed at Cohen.]
Lem? I told you when you switched my abietic acid with acetylsalicylic acid and I will tell you again now; Your childish pranks will not make me stop dating your mother, so call off your mime and tell me how to get back to the real lab.
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Mime?! [that voice is offended, with a side-order of being a warning.] I am much more than a mime, I assure you.
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But oh well, attention back to the artist it is, this time with an edge of annoyance in his voice because Bhamba hasn't quite abandoned the notion of this being an elaborate prank yet.]
Oh, a talking mime then. That just about puts you somewhere between blind helicopter pilot and legless ballerina.
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Be more careful about the way you address your betters, sir!
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May I ask where your room is?
[Just because he's angry doesn't mean he'll stop being longwinded.]
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What do you think it is I've been trying to figure out? I don't even know if this is real, for all I know I could be floating in room 909 in the middle of nowhere and I wouldn't even...
[Aaaand Cohen has lost him to more rambling and pacing around the room.]
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Don't walk away from me!
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Nine hundred and nine, you say?
[he points with one finger to his livid face.]
Look for this face!
[What happens next happens in a second, if that - his eyes flash a violent red, and he dissolves into a cloud of bloody scraps - the cloud expands and then retracts like the movement of a jellyfish, and the scraps drift like snowflakes to the floor.]
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