Brilliant Idea
[flashy, power themesong]
It was a dark and stormy night. The dinosaurs were doing research.
It was the year 2312. In the few years since 2052, dinosaurs had rapidly evolved from what humanity was left after the “Gerber Baby Food Wars.” At first they’d awkwardly searched for a place in the strange, geometrically designed and overly concreted world, but then they discovered what most of them had suspected all through their awkward lives: their massive legs, their sweeping tails, and their jaws capable of crushing forty-eight (or, in some cases, forty-nine) Cadillacs were perfectly developed for one task: doing research.
[write some scene development here, visual stuff, inside a lab]
One of the stegosaurs—the one in the corner with the spikes that he probably sharpened himself, at night—ruined the perfect silence of the room with one destructive tail-slap against the wall.
“What?” asked a pterodactyl. “Trouble with citations of e-mail interviews again?”
“No!” The stegosaur slammed his tail again, and this time the spikes in the end lodged in a head-high bookshelf of dinopedias. “It’s just that I don’t know why we’re here! I don’t know what to do here!”
“I do,” said the pterodactyl. “I always know what to do: some research.”
Also, this.
It was a dark and stormy night. The dinosaurs were doing research.
It was the year 2312. In the few years since 2052, dinosaurs had rapidly evolved from what humanity was left after the “Gerber Baby Food Wars.” At first they’d awkwardly searched for a place in the strange, geometrically designed and overly concreted world, but then they discovered what most of them had suspected all through their awkward lives: their massive legs, their sweeping tails, and their jaws capable of crushing forty-eight (or, in some cases, forty-nine) Cadillacs were perfectly developed for one task: doing research.
[write some scene development here, visual stuff, inside a lab]
One of the stegosaurs—the one in the corner with the spikes that he probably sharpened himself, at night—ruined the perfect silence of the room with one destructive tail-slap against the wall.
“What?” asked a pterodactyl. “Trouble with citations of e-mail interviews again?”
“No!” The stegosaur slammed his tail again, and this time the spikes in the end lodged in a head-high bookshelf of dinopedias. “It’s just that I don’t know why we’re here! I don’t know what to do here!”
“I do,” said the pterodactyl. “I always know what to do: some research.”
Also, this.
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