Since I was having so much trouble coming up with a Sistine Chapel, as I've come to term those serious artistic endeavors, and since my brain was so overloaded with nothing but literary bullshit, I decided to go for broke and just write.
The following is the result. I regret nothing.
PS: This piece of trash actually worked btw, I have written about three pages now so far.
- [+] Spoiler
- "So Nakara tells me youve been having a hard time coming up with a good opener. Here, let me help....
I'm sitting in a tavern, but for some reason there's a couch there, and I'm draped dramatically over it, sipping a whisky on ice--"
"Whisky on ice?! That's the best you've got?"
"...a Sex On The Beach--"
"If you're going for dramatic flair, just do a plain old ale or something."
"Alright, if you say so. So I'm draped over this couch, sipping an ale--
"In a stone tankard."
"--in a stone tankard, my face is half-obscured by shadows and everyone at the tavern is like, totally blown away by my mystique, but they also seem kind of scared of me. There's cigar and cigarette smoke everywhere, because there's no fog indoors to make things more mysterious. Anyway, the door to the place is thrown violently open and lightning flashes, and everyone looks up and it's this real ugly dude with a curl in his lip--"
"Is it Clint Eastwood?"
"Uh... no, uglier."
"Because I was picturing Clint Eastwood. He's pretty Ug, isn't he?"
"I guess that depends on taste."
"Handsome leaves more of an impression, though. You know, kind of a slick bastard."
"Okay, I see where you're going, sure -- alright, so lightning flashes on this guy who looks like Yul Brynner--"
"Not slick enough."
"Okay, let's scrap those ones -- a guy who looks like Steve Buscemi struts in and asks for a warm glass of goat milk and a red onion sandwich, and everyone is scared off their gourds."
"Like, pissing their pants scared."
"Exactly, there's little puddles under every chair, because between me and Buscemi there's enough Fear Factor to populate an entire TV channel. He gets his milk and his sandwich, and I'm watching him over the brim of my tankard--"
"Hang on, this started out mediaeval fantasy and turned into a spaghetti western."
"You started it with Clint Eastwood!"
"I beg to differ, the 'ghetti flavor was already there."
"Alright, it's a spaghetti fantasy, how's that?
Also, is it a dude who looks like Steve Buscemi, or a dude who is Steve Buscemi?
Its Steve Buscemi actually, but thats not revealed until further in the story. Anyway, I'm watching him over the brim of my beer mug, while he eats his onion milk and drinks his goat sandwich, and that tinkling saloon piano theme from Final Fantasy 6 cues up. He notices me noticing him, and I notice that he notices that, and then the bartender notices us noticing each other and leans over to Steve and whispers something in his ear, probably something about my awesome reputation, which gets him understandably riled up. He stands up and his stool scrapes back with a real loud grating sound, and the pianist loses his place--"
"And then drops the beat."
"And drops the beat on some sick dubstep, and there's more lightning outside and pissing pants inside, and Steve Buscemi walks up to me and slams his hand down on the table--"
"You were draped over a couch."
"Well there's a table there now, and he slams his hand on it and says, 'I hear you're pretty good with your fists, well I'd like to cut off your fists and attach them to my fists if you know what I mean', and I says, 'I know exactly what you mean, let's get out there and do this'.
So we both stand up and go outside but nobody follows us because they're paralyzed with fear and Steve's breath was not great at this point, and it's nighttime and there's like, seven moons and they're all full."
"And we all know how much werewolves like the moon!"
"Yes, there's lots of uncanny-valley howling off in the distance, but close enough to be spooky, and we stand outside facing off and a tumbleweed blows past, and Steve says 'I'm gonna get yer hands' and I say 'nuh-uh', but then the ground starts to shake really violently and it opens up and the crevices are big enough to swallow whole gorillas and there's smoke pouring out of them. So Steve and I both regain our balance -- well, I already had mine, because I'm cool -- and then we both sort of tentatively peek over the lip of the crevice between us, and..."
"And it's fucking Batman!"
"Exactly, it's Batman and he rises up out of the ground and he's inspiringly naked except for his mask, and he kind of turns with his arms outstretched to the heavens and this really beautiful music starts playing in the background as he floats down in front of us. Steve and I both fall to our knees in reverence, and Batman kind of reaches out and touches our shoulders gently, and says, 'This place looks a lot like Vancouver'."
"Man, that gave me chills."
"Right? It gives Steve and me the chills too, and then we decide to put our differences aside and go on a heartwarming, family-friendly journey to find all the missing pieces of Vancouver and we meet talking animals and stuff."
"And then at the end, Shell wakes up and it's all a dream."
Now get to work, and don't screw it up, this is a beautiful story and I don't want you to goof it, okay?"[/spoilers]