Artist: So, I’ve booked my holiday!
Man: Cool, Man. Where you goin’?
Man burst out in histerics.
Artist: What’s so funny?
Man: Iceland isn’t a country.
Artist: Yes it is!
Man: No it isn’t! It’s like Narnia, or Hogwarts, or Pluto.
Artist: Man, that band you really like, Sigur Ros, is from Iceland. So Is Bjork.
Man: Oh… Really? I thought both of those films?
Artist: Wh… what?
Man: I just always assumed they were soundtracks.
Artist: … Anyway, what are you doing this afternoon?
Man: You know what, I’ve always wanted to scope out where that ‘Cheers’ bar from that documentary about where Ted Danson used to work is. You game?
Artist: I’m gonna have a nap. Then I really need your rent.
Man: What brings you here?
Artist: Are you drunk?
Man: No, No, Of course not. I’ve just been drinking water all day.
Artist: You’re drunk.
Man: What? Pffshh, no!
Artist: I’ve been filling your water bottles with vodka.
Man: God damn this flu!
Man: Hey Art, do you know what ‘The Event’ is?
Artist: The creators of the show don’t even know what the event is.
Man: Well, Actually, the guy who wrote it has written all 5 seasons, and has been sitting on it for years.
Artist: You sit on it!
Man: That… That’s not what I said…
Artist doesn’t speak for the rest of the day.
Man: Art, why is there a traffic light in our kitchen.
Artist: I’m working on something.
Man: It’s still sparking.
Artist: Yeah, I got it last night.
Man: You got it last night?
Man: Where from.
There is a sound of tires screeching and also the sound of a collision.
Man: You realise how illegal this is?
Artist: Yeah, that’s kinda the project. Tomorrow, I’m going to throw a stone at the Mona Lisa’s case.
Man: It’s probably bulletproof.
Artist: It’s all about the statement, Man.
Man: Look, whatever, Art. Just get the Traffic Lights out of the sink. I need to brush my teeth.
Artist: Man, you know how in Return of the Jedi, Leia speaks about how she ‘remembers her mother’?
Man: Yeah, Sure…
Artist: Well… In episode 3, Padme dies during child birth…
Man: We need to contact George Lucas IMMEDIATELY.
Artist: Or we sue him.
Man: How do you figure?
Artist: For deploying such a potent Jedi Mind Trick.
Man: I don’t think we have a case.
Artist: Your right. Well… I’ll go fetch our harpoons.
Man: Art, I’m really glad I’ve got a room mate that hears me out, you know?
Artist: What was that? I was ignoring every sound that came out of your mouth.
Man: Whatever, I was talking about Bob anyway, right Bob?
Bob transforms into an Anvil.
Artist: Woah, Man, I just awoke from the most night vision..
Man: night vision? Like the goggles?
Artist: No, No… Like, A dream. A vision.
Man: Really? Tell me about it, if you like.
Artist: Yeah… Yeah… Well..
Man: Go on then..
Well, this dream…
It sort of revolved around the instance that Wollongong had become trapped in the 1974 (distinctly) and someone, maybe the council, the gods, renegade architect and historian, had erected these MASSIVE monuments of statues, and architecture, and churches, like in Venice, all over the city. It was like the second coming of the renaissance, and it came to Wollongong. From what I recall, it was near water. So it could have been the harbor. But everything was white, green, earthy brown and blue. It just looked like someone had dropped Ancient France onto Wollongong, and called it Wollongong. But everyone was like hanging out. It was like uni lunch break, only, market day. And it all seemed like some medieval city, except everything was much bigger. and … um, there was a dude selling some form of trading cards, illegally, and charged me $19 for a pack (which was also purchased by someone from my high school), and i haggled him down to $15. Saying “how about I give you $15 for trying to rob me” (Artist Laughs) As we made the exchange, a policeman hovered over my shoulder and gave a look to the vendor, who quickly packed up and left. I was new to the dynamic, so I was unaware that Trading Cards had become Illegal Tender. The cop was chasing us because we illegally purchased cards, I guess, and of course, in the style of classic dream running; my legs felt like they were encased in taffy.
Then I retreated to my house, which was a classic 1970’s Australian fibro home, which was also a castle, which was also a boat… It was complete with screen doors, and a wood lamenex t.v, and everyone spoke like they were out of “Hey Dad.”
Talk about whiskey dreams.
Man: You drank whiskey last night?
Artist: A lot of it.
Man: I guess I only have one question… What’s a Wollongong?
Man: Uhh… Art?
Man: Dude, there’s a Cheetah in our living room.
Artist looks up from the top of his paper, rather slowly and unenthusiastically.
Artist: This is fantastic! (Saracastic) I need to go to the bathroom.
Man: I wouldn’t go to the bathroom if I were you, unless you can go to the bathroom at 70 miles an hour.
Artist: … I’ll just wait it out.
Artist disappears behind his paper.
Man: Hmm, that smells good. What are you cooking.
Artist, with slightly deeper eyes than usual lifts the pot to show the contents inside to Man.
Man: Art, there are just rocks in there.
Artist: Yes. Stones. And Anxiety.
Man: Are you, feeling ok?
Artist: I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. I’m listening to the new Omar Rodriguez Lopez Record.
Man: Art! Art! Come Quick! I think there’s a UFO in the sky!
Art rushes to the window, and scans every inch of their view of the city.
Artist: Where? Where?
Man: Just there! There, Look! That blinking light in the sky! Above the tower!
Artist: … Man. That isn’t a UFO.
Man: How can you tell from here?
Artist: Because it’s about the distance, as well as being about the speed of a 747.
Artist: I’m going for a walk.
Man: oh yeah? Where to?
Artist: Down Lonely Avenue.
Man: It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Boris.
Artist: Yeah, And Brian-.
Man: and Where’s Bob?
Artist: I dunno. Have you checked his hutch?
Man: We should.
Man and Artist approach Bob the Build Sphere (and Morphing Singularity)’s Living Hutch in the centre of the living room. It is empty, all but for a note.
Artist: There’s a note…
Man: Well, lets read it.
“Dear Man and Artist,
Myself, Boris and Brian- have gone to Mexico.
We had the sudden urge for Taco meat and Cuban Cigars.
We should be back on Monday.
Make sure there’s a welcome home party.
Man: They went on holiday and didn’t tell us?
Artist: Cuban Cigars are from Cuba, right?
Man: The strangest thing is, we live in the Crab Nebula.
Computer: bInG! You’ve got mail
Artist: I have mail?
Computer: You’ve got mail.
Artist: I has… Mail?
Computer: Seriously, you’ve got mail.
Artist: I has… Teh mail?
Computer: did I fuckin’ stutter?