“Fantasy is what you pay for. Reality… is what you do after the cameras stop.” She holds up a Super 8 film camera. “Tonight, we’re shooting a musical. And you’re the finale.”
A long table covered in empty champagne bottles, tilted top hats, and lines of white powder. THE MAD HATTER (a manic, balding producer with glitter under his eyes) shouts, “CHANGE PLACES!” every thirty seconds, forcing everyone to move one seat down and take the previous person’s drink or pill. “Fantasy is what you pay for
The Caterpillar sings a sultry, meandering tune about transformation. As Alice takes a hit, the screen splits into three panels: in one, she’s a nun; in another, a rock groupie; in the third, a weeping bride. The harmonies are dissonant. The word “explicit” flashes. And you’re the finale
“No children or animals were harmed. Only consenting adults and one very confused producer.” As Alice takes a hit, the screen splits
The music cuts. The screen goes black. A single spotlight on Alice, alone, holding the silver key.