Why the fuck am I here? I haven’t
done anything! You can’t do this.
You can’t just keep me here. I
have rights! This is America you
fruity lunatics, and I have
rights goddamnit! let me go!
The guards look at each other. B1 leans in towards the
PRISONER. Fruity Lunatics seems to have upset them.
(in his normal voice)
And who says we’re in America?
The PRISONER has a stunned look on his face.
(Back to the childlike
Why B2, why don’t you tell our
guest where we are?
Thanks B1! I always love talking
to our infidel invites! We are...
nowhere! Not in a country, not in
a state, not at sea, no where! We
don’t exist on a map! There are
no laws! No rules! No oversight!
No end to all the fun we get to
have, with you, our guest. Are
you thinking what I’m thinking
I think I am B2! Is it that we
should take him to the fun room?
Sounds good B1! Come on Mr
Infidel, time to have some fun!
They gag his mouth before he can raise a protest, and put a
bag over his head.
The PRISONER slowly drifts in and out of consciousness,
only vaguely aware that he is being dragged along by the
guards down the corridor. He can hear screams, laughter and
crying all at once from the various rooms. He blacks out