He looked at the file name again. This Ain't Avatar. XXX. 3D SBS. 720p. Bluray. X264. AC3.
The “ritual” began. It involved a lot of blue body paint smearing, a hammock that was definitely not rated for that kind of motion, and dialogue that would make a trucker blush. “Your tail is so… prehensile,” Drake whispered.
The first thing he noticed was the budget. It wasn’t zero , but it was clearly spent on three things: 1) A single, re-used LED-lit cave set. 2) A lot of blue body paint. 3) One very expensive, very confused animatronic horse that looked like it had seen things.
The screen went black. Then, a pixelated, lime-green legal disclaimer appeared: “The following film is a parody. No Na’vi were harmed in the making of this motion picture. However, several foam latex puppets were irreparably stained.”
Suddenly, the Colonel appeared. Not a parody. The actual Stephen Lang’s face, poorly green-screened onto a different actor’s smaller, less intimidating body. “We have to torch the sacred grove!” he yelled at no one. “The blue cat people are… consolidating!”
The screen stuttered. The AC3 audio crackled, switching from dramatic orchestral stings to a cheesy 70s funk guitar riff. Bow-chicka-bow-wow.
Their neural queues (which looked suspiciously like iPhone charging cables with plastic tentacles glued on) dangled toward each other.