28 Morons Later
A movie proposal continuing the Zombie Apocalypse movie franchise 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later.
Martin Sheen and every actor in his “Hey Electoral Voters, Join Our Club For The Vain And Stupid” video, fearing the inevitable Republican Apocalypse, have done a run on their banks and are holed up with all their cash in an old warehouse on the east side of LA.
Michael Sheen – I don’t know if they’re related, except by stupidity – having given up his dubious acting career to become a Globalist Activist, has no place to go in Trumptopia and is beating at the door. After a quick pitch and close by Martin on a timeshare deal, Michael is let in.
Michael forgets to close the door behind him. In pours a massive crowd of people. “Ahhh! You’ve let in the Infected!!!” The crowd shows the signs of advanced infection. Some have tee shirts with American flags on them. Others bear blood red hats with a horrible big white paragraph on the front, the same on each hat – “Make America Great Again!”
“My God it’s the Deplorables!”
“You can’t say that word.”
“No, God. Can’t say that.”
“My… by Algore’s Inconvenient Truth its the Deplorables!” Shrieking in terror and clinging together, our actors form a frantically undulating donut – a bagel really, but that’s a bit too Semitic for our Hollyweirdians so – a donut of bodies, spinning on its own circular inner axis as its ingredients claw and climb over each other, seeking the safety of the middle of the group, only to be constantly pushed down and back out to the perimeter, to start the climb all over again. Cries are heard of “let me in, I played a doctor on TV!”, “shove off, we all did!”, and “at least my ratings weren’t in the toilet!”
Thirty minutes later the crowd, which has been patiently standing on the other side of the warehouse, approaches the donut.
“Ahhh don’t bite us!” … “Er, yes?”
“Sorry to bother whatever it is you’re doing, but the rain’s stopped, we’re leaving now. Thank you for the hospitality, it started pouring right after our rally, would you believe it here in LA? Well thanks again for letting us in. By the way there’s a waiter outside looking for a Mr. Sheen?”
“Ahhh! A server! A laborer! Infected! We’re doomed! I knew it!”
“Shut up Michael!”
“Mr. Martin Sheen? Party of 28? Your table’s ready.”
”Ahem. Well. Yes that’s me. Come along everyone.”
“Eww I say, those Deplorables. I certainly hope we don’t see them there. Simply frightful people.”
“Shut up Michael.”