CYBER-TIME
A musical webisode
Script & lyrics by Mark M. Wilson
Present day: "Horny Devil" and "Roxie Horror" role-play in cyberspace. They also swap postcards and letters. But never meet. Or go live, C2C.
“Horny Devil” wears a Leather Master costume from the early '80s. His profile photos are from the same era. “Roxie Horror” is more ambiguous. Her pics are soft-focus; clever use of shadow; lots of back-lighting. Nevertheless –
Horny selects a thumbs-up icon for Roxie. He LIKES what he sees…
“HORNY DEVIL”
My user name is
"Horny Devil"
LIKE me and I’ll
Light your fire.
I'm a long knight
With no armour,
A seed demon
On the wire.
|
BOTH
|
“ROXIE HORROR”
Light my fire!
|
Roxie stabs her keyboard.
One click and I’m
“Roxie Horror”
Lip gloss with a
Taser stun.
|
Split-screen. Or composite images, to mimic web design.
I'm a hunky vampire,
| Love bytes in the
Neon Sun.
|
LIKE you
I’m a junkie vampire,
|
Horny & Roxie swap video clips and photos.
I’ll take you where
Wolf’s riding bare,
I can be
The Phantom Groom,
So, lady,
Make me high.
|
Where Jekyll’s
Loving Hyde,
| I am your
Atomic Bride,
So, baby,
Come on bi.
|
Both now on smart-phones (or carrying laptop).
Free to move from room to room, or outside.
Choreography breathes new life into old bodies as they launch into the CHORUS:
When sun sets
No quick demise.
|
In our prime
On cyber-time,
We’ve smoke and mirrors
Chems and wine.
On paper -
Past our sell-by-date,
Our tea and biscuits
Brew and bake,
While cock and bull
Tales
Germinate.
On cyber-wars
Where no one falls.
Love is born
When love is raw.
On cyber-time
Cyber-time
On cyber-time
You and I.
|
Place your bets
No booby prize.
|
Instrumental break -- Horny rearranges ornaments to set-dress a web-cam shot. Roxie reapplies her thick make-up.
As Horny sings a new verse, he twists and bends an anglepoise lamp, losing his body in deep shadow, bleaching out his face.
To hell with type
Let’s Skype for action.
Cyber-nurse needs
Voodoo Doctor
Who’s gonna
Conjure up a feast.
A demon brew,
Or Madame Sin?
|
Cyber-genes
Right to the brim.
Forbidden fruit
From Eden’s tree
The Edge of Hell
Or Heaven’s Rim?
|
My beauty
You’re a beast!
A salty stew,
Snow White?
|
Jump cuts. Time passing, fast. Letters and postcards - innocent, dreary scenes, at odds with the scribbled messages and half-spoken lines.
"Her letter’s scent –
Fragrant DNA from Gwent.
Vintage scenes –
From Kent and Devon’s
Clotted dreams"
“On your knees, like a dog, in Leeds!”
|
“Fresh meat on
Budleigh beach?!”
“We can choke in Basingstoke!”
“Dominate in Margate!?”
|
Back to real-time.
Smart-phones or carrying laptop.
Ramping up the energy for CHORUS 2:
In our prime
On cyber-time,
Hyper men and
Fems sublime.
On paper -
Past our sell-by-date,
Cold tea and biscuits
Stew and break,
While avatars
Procrastinate.
|
Doubts are setting in. Suspicions. Clues.
The lights, and sharp focus, begin to expose Roxie’s secret.
I know it isn’t
Halloween,
No treble-six,
|
But what the hell -
Let’s scream.
|
Or Friday and
Thirteen,
No chimes at twelve,
|
Horny pretend-screams, like prehistoric man preparing to mate.
Still not cam-to-cam, he doesn’t see Roxie –
- ripping off her wig.
Roxie screams, for real. Furious and frustrated.
A bitter edge to her voice during CHORUS 3:
Shhhhh!
|
Still
In our prime
On cyber-time.
Filter tips and
Tesco wine.
On paper -
Past our sell-by-date.
PG Tips and
After Eight.
While cock and bullsh…
Stagnate.
|
Tales
|
Horny doesn’t see Roxie transforming back into a man: She slaps cold cream on her face. Rubs off the make-up. Sings to camera, to the audience.
C-2-C,
Lingerie.
|
“Horny Devil” wants
Cam-to-cam,
To see “Roxie” in her –
Finery.
|
Roxie wipes away a tear. Mascara smudged. Panda eyes.
Lipstick smeared like Heath Ledger’s ‘Joker’
Once fine and dandy
In the flesh,
But now, oh no…
Randy and reality
Don’t mesh.
|
Both logout.
Both resigned to another night alone.
"Horny Devil" packs a suitcase:
Floral Bermuda shirts,
Clashing shorts,
Passport,
(No black leather and chrome.)
When ships sail
And sirens wail,
Cyber-heroes
Energise.
|
“Roxie Horror” lays out his work clothes for the following day:
Classy tie,
Crisp shirt,
Trendy jacket,
Trousers, with a sharp crease,
Cufflinks – each with a glittering diamond.
On cyber-time
We super-size.
On cyber-time
We’re not despised…
Or sanitised.
|
We’re on the shelf,
On the National Health.
But cyber-time’s
A wishing-well.
|
In separate rooms, separate homes, Horny and Roxie in matching pyjamas.
Still
On
Cyber
Time.
|
Lights off. Only the glow from laptops or smart-phones.
Music fades.
<beep-beep> sound FX.
Close up. Incoming message arrows …
© 2013 Mark M. Wilson
