“It’s my new television concept… it’s inspired…”
            “You’re…”
            “Yeah… I’m taking a belt-sander to an orphan.”
            “But…”
            “Look… I’m through the skin… now… you’ll never guess what happens next…”
            “Oh Jesus…”
            “Yeah, who’d have thought such a small orphan would have so much blood in it?”
            “This… Is this real?”
            “What kind of lunatic would butcher a pretend orphan?”
            “I… I think I’m going to be sick…”
            “Try and be sick on the orphan… we can make it a feature… get some guests in to puke on it… We could vote to see who gets to go first.”
            “What kind of monster are…”
            “Look… its guts have fallen out… Tammy… set the dogs free.”
            “Police… someone call the police…”
            “I got a permit.”
            “You can’t have a permit for this… it’s murder…”
            “See… that’s the great thing… the orphan is already terminally ill.”
            “That’s still murder…”
            “No, that’s the great part… I’m not going to get all Kevorkian’d up… You see, if the orphan dies it’s an unfortunate accident in the television making process.”
            “You’re evil…”
            “You said you wanted a television show… I gave you that… You said you wanted twenty-four half-hour episodes… I’ve got twenty-four orphans plus a couple of spares if we hit an artery…”
            “Oh my god… is that…”
            “Fucking spleen… Everyone’s going to be excited… Nobody knows what a spleen looks like… now they’ll learn.”
            “…”
            “We’re going to name them as they fall out. It counts as science content.”
            “Why’s that woman putting it in her…”
            “That’s nothing… wait until she tries to get the brain in there… that’s last… by that time she’ll be pretty full.”
            “Oh god.”
            “Then she fucks the pig.”
            “…”
            “I’m kidding, that would just be wrong.”
            “You can’t do this…”
            “The fact there’s blood everywhere hints that we can.”
            “We can’t put this on the air…”
            “Sure you can, you just need a camera and a satellite thing. We haven’t even got it on air and there’s all these people stopping to watch. This isn’t even normally a busy street.”
            “There are a lot of people…”
            “You should have seen the crowd last time.”
            “There’d need to be changes.”
            “What do you mean? Should we get bigger dogs? We tried with bigger dogs before but they ate the orphan too quickly… plus the small dogs are cuter.”
            “How about if you don’t kill the orphan?”
            “Well, it’s really more of a mercy in the end… I mean, there’s no way we can get the all the organs back in even after Stacy’s done her trick.”
            “It’s just doesn’t suit the demographic…”
            “Do you want us to use an axe? I mean… that seems a bit harsh… We normally just shoot them in the head.”
            “People don’t want to see an orphan die.”
            “What kind of fucking sadists watch your channel?”
            “How about if, instead of killing him, you send him on a nice holiday?”
            “If it goes swimming sharks will scent the blood and eat him… probably slowly.”
            “Obviously you’ll have to loose the dismemberment.”
            “What…”
            “Maybe you can replace it with a talent show.”
            “Are you fucking with me?”
            “I’m just saying that maybe… instead of getting the midget to climb inside him…”
            “That’s the bit where we recreate the cool bit from Total Recall… That’s integral…”
            “What if you replaced it with a guest band? I hear Hootie has another album coming out…”
            “Who the fuck is Hootie? Anyway, we have a band…”
            “That’s a band? I thought you’d just hired people to jump on the orphan?”
            “We got some guys from the Stomp auditions…”
            “Maybe they could use dustbins instead of cracking the orphan’s ribs…”
            “Who the fuck would want to listen to that?”
            “Forty-fives to sixty-fives.”
            “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
            “…And how about if we get you a female assistant?”
            “What’s wrong with the whore?”
            “She’s not particularly wholesome… Housewives wouldn’t like her.”
            “She’s smoking crack… of course she’s not wholesome… And I like her.”
            “It’s a dealbreaker…” 
            “Fine… get me another woman… but if I do that I get to keep the fire…”
            “You can have a nice log-fire in the background. It’ll remind people of Christmas Specials… Perhaps you could wear a cardigan.”
            “It’d get soaked with blood… that’s why I wear the protective overalls and the facemask.”
            “We could probably get some clothing sponsorship…”
            “Free stuff?”
            “Certainly.”
            “Fine… but we’re cutting the meat pretty thin…”
            “So we’re agreed.”
            “Yes, I’ll wear a cardigan, we’ll set cuter dogs on the orphan and send it on holiday after cutting off its head with an axe. We’ll select the orphan from a group based on their ability to sing showtunes. You’ll get me a new whore.”
            “How about we just buy the format from you and make our own changes?”
            “I’m not selling out to the man.”
            “We’ll give you money.”
            “Deal.”
            “Great… we’ll write up the paperwork tomorrow.”
            “Do you want to finish off the orphan? You’re paying me so I guess it’s yours now.”
            “Oh god yes, let me drink what’s left of its blood first.”

back to duck.