"I suppose at some point we should at least try to escape."

"Escape? Escape? My brother, we're in Malibu! The sun! The sand! The ocean! The women!"

"You do of course know that we are not in Malibu right now."

"Right yes I do know tha--"

"We are locked in a room somewhere in Connecticut."

"Yeah no you're right I just--"

"It has been three days since we've seen the light of the sun."

"I'm just having a bit of fun with it, y'know?"

"I'll say."

"Is that so wrong? To enjoy my time here?"

"In captivity, you mean?"

"We're all captives! That's why they call it Captivalism!"

"They don't call it that."

"I'm just saying, they have to at least feed us or we'll die before talking, they have to house us so we won't be discovered... our basic needs are being met, free of charge!"

"I feel like a few levels to Maslow's hierarchy of needs are neglected during forced captivity."

"Not if we use the power of imagination!"

"You've gone mad. Three days in here and you've gone totally mad."

"If 'going mad' means I'm on a beach in Malibu, then I'm Hannibal fucking Lecter!"

"Again, not on a beach. You're alone, in a locked room, with an increasingly large pile of shit in the corner."

"Don't bring up shit-corner, it shatters the illusion."

"There's no illusion! None of this is real! I'm not even real! You've retreated into the confines of your own mind in a desperate attempt to maintain some sense of control over your situation, when the truth is you are doing really poorly right now!"

"I am not! Just as soon as I get out of this room I'll be back on my feet!"

"Oh, oh good. So get out of this room then."

"No."

"And there's our problem."

"There's no problem! Malibu!"

"There is no Malibu! You can't keep hiding from reality like this!"

"Now you listen to me, pal. You are a part of my escapist fantasy, and you will ACT like--"

"You're diving into escapist fantasies without even trying to actually escape!"

"How am I supposed to escape? This room is impregnable!"

"You haven't so much as checked if the door is locked!"

"Well excuse me for believing in people! For believing our captors are competent!"

"God, you'll do anything to avoid reality, won't you? You're not afraid of being trapped in here, you're afraid of going back!"

"Shut up."

"You're afraid of the bills, and the responsibilities, and the social interactions--"

"Shut up!"

"You're gonna die in this dark, rancid, windowless room because you're too afraid to face the world outside!"

"SHUT UP!"

...

God. Okay. Yeah, it does smell pretty bad in here.

Never seen it, but having looked it up I'm glad to merit the comparison!

Thanks!

That's fun! I intentionally left out any description of them because my own ideas of what they might look like weren't really relevant, even though I had something in my head. It's neat to see how that results in others coming up with their own ideas of what they look like, even subconsciously!

"That's it then, eh?"

"That's it."

"Just the two of us on a bench."

"All ya need, really."

"Not exactly compelling, is it?"

"Who said it has to be? Everyone's out there bringing Death Itself, God, the Devil, floating head numbers and time travel... A little inconsequential chat would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"I guess I just don't much see the point."

"Not yet, at least."

"Oh, so you do? You see some grand purpose in this chat? In this bench?"

"Never said it would be grand."

"But there is some purpose. There's something to this, right?"

"..."

"..."

"Think I just saw a Blue Jay."

"Thrilling."

"..."

"How long do we have to sit here for? It's not like there's a grand story arc that will find a pointed resolution."

"I'm sure they'll wrap it up when they get bored of us."

"And then what?"

"Well, nothing really. Then we're done."

"So that's all we get? Just the two of us on a bench for a few paltry minutes until suddenly we poof out of existence?"

"I think you'll find we all have a time limit shorter than we'd like."

"Oh and do we all have to sit on a bench with an old soul who can't admit he's been dealt a shit hand in a rigged game?"

"You seem very upset about all this."

"Of course I'm upset! I coulda been a dragon! A god! One of those humans who wipes out an alien race because we're just so goddamn special!"

"Those stories all end too, y'know."

"Yeah well I coulda at least done something cool in my time."

"Hmm..."

"..."

"Beautiful day."

"There's no stopping you, is there?"

"I'm just trying to enjoy my time here, is that so wrong?"

"It's futile! Useless! We're gonna just stop existing any second anyway!"

"Ah yes. Much better to spend the time we have wishing it was some other way."

"I... Hm."

"Nice of them to make it so warm out for us."

"Yes, yes I suppose that much is nice."

"I think the two under that tree are on a date."

"I think you're right. I always loved picnic dates. Dirt cheap but some of my best dates have been just good conversation and a blanket in a park."

"Hmm... How do you think it's going for them?"

"Does it matter? We both know there's not gonna be a second date."

"Even so, I think it's going very well." The girl laughed at something the boy had told her, leaning her shoulder on his as she did. She said something back that sent him into his own fit of laughter, both going back and forth building on the bit. They were happy.

"...Yeah, I think you're right."

Balls. Balls were the one thing on Tim's mind. Mind full of balls, as it ever was. Was it healthy to think of balls as much as he did? Did he care if it was? Was there anything better for him to be doing?

"Doing your mom, doing, doing your mom," Tim's roommate entered with a song, and the interruption was enough to distract Tim from thinking about balls.

"Balls!" ("Balls" was Tim's favourite expletive to use when his train of thought was disturbed by anyone, especially John.) "John, I was this close to my next great screenplay idea and you've cocked it all up, you fuck!"

"Fuck off. Off the top of my head I can think of exactly two screenplays you've even started, and they were both just inane ramblings about balls."

"Balls! Balls was the great screenplay idea I had!"

"Had you properly forgotten it, I'm sure the world would be just fine."

"Fine, don't believe in me. Me own mum told me I'd never amount to nothing! Nothing but a sad reflection of me old man! Man, was she right. Right about me father, right about not blowing me savings on ball-themed NFTs, right about everything!"

"Everything you're saying makes less sense than the thing that came before it."

"It doesn't matter if you can't grasp the meaning of the balls!"

"Balls again? Again with the balls?"

"Balls again! Again and again and again until the world knows not of the suffering of yesteryear, and is left with only the joy of balls!"

"Balls aren't a very solid basis for one's ideology."

"Ideology. IDEOLOGY?! Ideology is entirely too small a word to describe the importance of balls."

"Balls."

"Balls."

"Balls."

Balls balls balls balls balls balls balls.

Balls.