The music cuts. The screen goes black. A single spotlight on Alice, alone, holding the silver key.
She drops the key. It clatters on the floor.
She sees Alice. A slow, predatory smile. The music cuts
He drops a tiny silver key. Alice picks it up. He turns, eyes black pools in the smoggy sunlight.
The neon is dead under the hazy L.A. sun. ALICE (19, innocent but jaded, wearing a crocheted tube top and frayed bell-bottoms) sits by a fountain, sketching a wilting daisy in a spiral notebook. She’s bored. The summer of love is a decade old; now it’s just litter and bad deals. She drops the key
“It’s not about sex. It’s about control. And you paid to lose yours.”
“Late,” he purrs. “I’m terribly, terribly late.” A slow, predatory smile
A long table covered in empty champagne bottles, tilted top hats, and lines of white powder. THE MAD HATTER (a manic, balding producer with glitter under his eyes) shouts, “CHANGE PLACES!” every thirty seconds, forcing everyone to move one seat down and take the previous person’s drink or pill.
The Knave of Hearts (a handsome, terrified accountant in handcuffs) kneels.
“OFF WITH HIS PAYCHECK!” the Queen screams. Two CHESHIRE CATS (twins, identical to the first, shirtless and oiled) drag him away.