We open on:
Blackness.
Blackness blacker than black. The blackness of the darkest soul. The blackest night. A really really black guy, standing in a very dark room, not smiling. Or if he is, he is wearing a mouthgaurd that is black as Hitler’s dick.
Then a single mote of light slowly fades into view. A tiny spec. Light. Hope. This dot, containing multitudes, seems to be struggling within itself. Suddenly, in the briefest of moments, the mote EXPLODES with unholy force. The sound of a thousand school buses being dropped on a canyon full of tympanis and aluminum foil. The light EXPANDS, pushing out into STARS, GALAXIES. NEBULAE. OTHER COSMIC TERMS. Camera FINDS within this infinite maelstrom of twisting spirals and hot colorful gases a TINY BLUE DOT. This is EARTH. VOLCANOES are exploding. ROCK FORMATIONS, jagged and cruel, are pushed up out of hot magma only to recede, crushed.
But then in the OCEAN, another TINY SPECK. This one GREEN. It DOUBLES. REDOUBLES. Begins forming complex spirals and helixes and spirograph type shit. It MULTIPLIES. Suddenly it’s a trilobite (for budgetary purposes we will want to glue a tail onto a potato bug). NAUTILUS’ form, conical-shelled squid the size of the empire state building. Breathing fire. Except they live underwater so you never see the fire. But trust me, you can feel it.
BACK ON LAND, a lone FISH-LIZARD is lamely struggling onto a beach. Suddenly it’s a DINOSAUR. We are in the age of the “Thunder Lizards.” Not the band, the name for dinosaurs. A TYRANNOSAUR savages an ANKYLOSAURUS. A VELOCIRAPTOR attempts to mate with a PTERANODON. A lone PLESIOSAUR plays basketball with a TRICERATOPS.
MAMMALS rise. MASTODONS. GROUND SLOTHS the size of houses. They do stuff.
MAN emerges from a MONKEY. He grasps the WHEEL. FIRE. CIVILIZATION. WRITING. THE PYRAMIDS. THE COLLISSEUM. THE MONA LISA. CARS. XBOXES. HAMBURGERS. We PAN over a MEGALOPOLIS, lit at night and visible from space; the crown of man’s achievement. But is this a dream, or a nightmare?
(Note: if budget is a concern, we can skip to):
We FIND ourselves in a run down bedroom in Van Nuys. Shadowy figures in the middle distance. A sound, like the Earth rumbling, until it resolves into the distinctive bass from Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s ISLANDS IN THE STREAM, as performed live at the 1986 County Music Awards in Nashville, Tennessee. Kenny Rogers. A roadworn voice that seems to wrap you in a blanket and say “let’s go on an adventure, to a land of golden roasted chickens and perfectly groomed white beards.”
Title Screen:
delicioustacos 
ahhh. amusing, creative, original… almost worth the wade through the bullshit. 😉