The time is now several hours later. A 32 year old Dwight walks out of a nearby London coffeee shop, sipping on an alpacino.
Slurp.
Gulp.
Ahhhhhhhhhh.
DWIGHT: What an excellent coffeee!
Suddently, a crowd of porpoises and humans approaches from a nearby corner. They are all flashing cameras, waving phones in the air and holding unsigned head shots, worthless and meaningless without the signature they wish to acquire: Dwight's. For he is the person depicted in the head shots.
CROWD:
LOOK, IT'S DWIGHT!
DWIGHT: Oh no.
A rickshaw pulls up alongside the Dwight, with a Professor Hubert Farnsworth in the dríving seat.
¿
FARNSWORTH: Quick, son of Hermes! GET IN!!!
DWIGHT: Okay, thanks.
Dwight climbs into the rickshaw and they proceed to flee from the crowd with relentless captivity.
FARNSWORTH: I shall now get you back to your own time.
Farnsworth pulls out a piece of volcanic rock from his sleeveshirt, popping it into Dwight's gullet and rubbing his throat in a
clockwise motion until Dwight swallows the sharp, unpleasant object.
Gulp.
Ahhhhhhhhhh.
It is after this that Dwight begins to vibrate and pulsate intermittently, his eyes glassing over with a neat foam which scares away nearby inhabitants of the souvenir shop. Dwight's bellybutton opens up to reveal a gaping mass of white light, which gobbles up both Dwight and Farnsworth, leaving nothing behind but the rickshaw
AND
DWIGHT'S
SUNGLASSES.
Meanwhile, at The Great London Theatre.Fry and Leela continue to stand on their stage, professing their love to one another repeatedly before a crowd of no one. Several annoyed actors stand backstage, looking on in frustration.
ACTOR #1: Are they ever going to get off the stage?
ACTOR #2: I think not.
ACTOR #3: But we have our opening performance of
Cats in just a couple of hours!
C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S C A T S ? ? ?ACTOR #1: Well, the show
must go on.
Actor #1 produces a blunderbuss from his ugly lapel, approaching Fry and Leela with SUCH AGGRESSIVE STEPS.
ACTOR #1: Why, from upon the brow of a happening
Whib, exit the stage at once, you two!
LEELA: Who is that, Fry?
FRY: I don't know, Leela. But I love him.
LEELA: As do I.
The actor
screams in resignation before turning the blunderbuss onto himself, shooting out his own head and killing himself to death, then the rest of the cast.
FRY: Oh no, he is dead now.
LEELA: This saddens me.
FRY: Because you were in love?
LEELA: Yes.
FRY: Me too.
LEELA: Thank you.
Leela and Fry look at one another and smile, before interlocking fingers and leaving the stage together. They walk out onto the streets of London, only to find nothing but confused porpoises and humans searching the city high and low for Dwight. Sir Hanry Von Ticklestein XIV approaches the loving couple.
SIR HANRY VON TICKLESTEIN XIV: Why, you two! You are fresh faces which I have not seen before in my life. Do you love me?
LEELA: Why, yes!
FRY: Yes, we do, sir!
SIR HANRY VON TICKLESTEIN XIV: Good. How about this as a wager, then? If you can find a celebrity for me, I'll make it worth your while.
Fry and Leela smile, their toothy grins piercing the universe and all places beyond. Genitals throbbing and weeping.
LEELA: Who is the celebrity, my love?
SIR HANRY VON TICKLESTEIN XIV: This beautiful man.
Sir Hanry Von Ticklestein XIV holds up an unsigned head shot of Dwight. Suddenly, a flood of memories washes over Fry and Leela - rendering them fully aware of time and their place therein.
LEELA:
GRAB HIM, FRY!Fry runs up to Sir Hanry Von Ticklestein XIV and puts his arms around him, squeezing him until his head bursts, blood splattering all over the road and nearby walls and also a post box.
LEELA:
YES! TAKE THAT, YOU FUCK!!!
Fry runs up to Leela and high-fives him with his bloody hands, making her hand bloody. The two proceed to lick their fingers lustfully, except then they turn around and see a whole street full of people mad at them.
THEY.
WANT.
BLOOD.
FRY: Uh-oh.
LEELA: RUN, FRY!!!
TO BE CONTINUED.