David Lynch: What year is it?
The Angel of Death: It is 2025, time to give in to emphysema. Time to die.
DL: Surely there will be a portal into another world?
TAoD: You’re the expert. What does the future look like?
DL: A dark tunnel behind red curtains. A cracked mirror stained with blood. A room full of demons and döppelgangers.
TAoD: Sounds just like your films David.
DL: Nothing is like my films. Only my other films.
TAoD: And your television programmes.
DL: Just different ways of sharing my vision.
TAoD: Vision? You’re just a miserable bastard, full of doom and gloom. None if it makes any sense.
DL: Life is doom and gloom. Coffee and cigarettes.
TAoD: And the cigarettes worked out well, didn’t they?
DL: I can’t work without them.
TAoD: Well, you’re going to have to now.
DL: Can I have my final wish? One last drag. One last feel of fire in my lungs?
TAoD: It’ll be fire everywhere where you’re going.
DL: Well, I’m acclimatised.
TAoD: You’re just weird. Come on, it’s time.
DL: Where’s Bob when you need him? Can’t you just take somebody else? I’ve got lots more ideas.
TaoD: We’ve all had enough of your ideas, David. It’s time to die.
DL: Absurdity is what I like most in life.
TAoD: We aim to please.
DL: Time to die.
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Johnny Eraserhead Brainstorm