3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

[first draught of The Holo Magi]
Act Two Scene Two

-Shame it takes a disaster like this for
us to appreciate the fine qualities of each other.
-What disaster? We find this Holo Magi
and his gladstone bag of quack eco-
remedies and throw him into a dungeon of his own
making. His hydroponics and his hothouses
should be dedicated to marijuana and greenbacks.
-The island is heaped with collectors' five
cent and two cent and one cent pieces.
-I am no numistat and that is that.
-I'm saving them up for my old age. The water
on the brain might come right when my face
has shriveled up and my muscles wasted away.
-You'd make a fortune as a taxi driver taking
us the long way round.
-The holo magi is expecting you and his his only
weakness is impatience.
-Albinio, you lie on your coins, but get no tan,
or bolt of lightning twice,
you kiss the likeness of the Queen and bow like a
moslem and yet you wear the ropiest of bikinis.
-I'm thrifty, if that's your drift. I found the three
triangles while beachcombing and figured it out.
-I can assure you the bottom piece is a bandanna
and there's a third piece missing.
-It's a trikini. And as they say in Haiti, your trikini
line is showing.
-That up there is the consort's ear. Large and curvy.
And this boulderface the Queen's bas relief.
-Excuse me for laughing out loud raucously, but isn't it
a heresy to have the consort's ear larger than the idol's
profile?
-Received through the ether, has six sons and six
daughters by the goddess, hangs on her every word.
-Seems to me, he has to make a great effort to
tune in.
-Dare I say, he only pays lips service. His mind is
elsewhere.
-Over here, on a rainy day, I count my medicinal maggots
and leeches in jars and set them free.
-You disagree with the great Magi's teachings?
-He gives me his hand me down clothes and animals for
occupational therapy. There's nothing dodgy about it.
-There's no off shore gambling or tax havens here?
-All given up to science. Try Bermuda or the Cayman
islands north west and north east.
-We cannot go back.
-Give me another swig from your flagon.
-Flacon! Flacon! It's coke in thimble loads of rum.
-It goes straight to my feet. I love it.
-We have a business propostion for the Magi. As quinine
bolsters lemonade against the langour of malaria, so
might whisky with a touch of cocaine bolster against
fatigue in sweat shops and shopping malls alike.
-Can you speak bantu?
-Little. My mother, who was a hoodoo pristess died before I
was born. I speak a little french. Au pair. Faux pas.
Bon mot. But when I get the petit mal I forget it all
again.

[End of first draught Act Two Scene Two.]