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INT. TROLL'S HIDEOUT
The hideout is shabby, shitty. Moth-chewed furniture is strewn about haphazzardly, and numerous posters of David Hasselhoff adorn the walls. LIQUID SUNSHINE, DARKER CONQUEROR, and THE HATE GUY are lounging around, slowly taking turns throwing things at each other.
X-MOUTH runs into the room, panting and out of breath.
LIQUID SUNSHINE: Look who's here--a fucking idiot.
HATE GUY: Yeah, go cry to your mommy about the democrats.
DARKER CONQUEROR: After you get done fucking her.
HATE GUY: Whoops, I forgot that part. Thanks.
DARKER CONQUEROR: No problem.
X-MOUTH: That's not important right now. I just heard those Crankies talking--they seem to know where One-Eyed Cranky's treasure is!
LIQUID SUNSHINE: In your ass?
HATE GUY: In your mother's ass?
DARKER CONQUEROR: Oooh, that's a good one.
HATE GUY: Thanks.
X-Mouth looks around, desperate. He's talked shit for so long that nobody believes him anymore, even when he's telling the truth.
X-MOUTH: No, really, guys! They're gonna try to kick all of the trolls out of Crankyland!
At this, the rest of the trolls sit up, their eyes wide.
HATE GUY: Can . . . can they do that?
LIQUID SUNSHINE: Probably not. Faggots.
DARKER CONQUEROR: But I have no place else to go!
X-Mouth waves his hands, trying to get their attention.
X-MOUTH: Look, our only chance is to get to One-Eyed Cranky's treasure before they do! So quit being liberal sheep and follow me!
He runs out of the room. After a moments hesitation, the other trolls follow him, slapping each other's asses excitedly.
TO BE CONTINUED
--Slater
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