On alt.fan.neil-gaiman, you're either in love with Marc Hempel's art in The Kindly Ones or you can't stand it (or you're one of the very few who sit on the fence, but that's of no consequence here). The following dialogue ensued over the course of many posts. Sorry for the small type and the odd formatting. It was the only way I could think to put it all together to make sense.
|(Ian Kirk begins)
<sound of jet engines in the distance...>
Ack!!! All these Hempel fans, and in public too!
Sorry, but I really have no choice over this...
<Click of safety catch being removed>
<Small red targetting dot starts dancing about, looking for victims with raised hands>
I think we may be out-gunned here pilgrim - but be cool, I've called up air support...
EXT: 'Walker stands out in the middle of a windblown field, trenchcoat whipping in the breeze (ala 'Face/Off' airport scene) claymore strapped to his back, large caliber handgun in his right hand...stacks of original Hempel art clutched in his left...a violent and defiant look crossing his features.
Walker: "Come get some."
EXT: Pull back from MS to reveal hordes of skulls, bones, and gristle ringing 'Walker's feet...all wonderfully curved, detailed, and dramatic. Cut shot to a legion of angular, defined line, Hempel-esque soldiers marching up behind 'Walker, and coming to rest in ranks. Calm upward glance reaction shot to the sounds of jet engines.
(Continued saga with four different responses)
CUT TO:Tracking shot: Grimy brick wall, moody lighting(ala Frank Miller)
SOUNDTRACK:Fade in muffled sound of a Gram Parsons song from somewhere indoors
FOCUS: Single point of orange light in shadows. Flashing neon sign illuminates hunched, dishevelled figure of Reg, cigarette clenched b/n teeth, maniacally cheerful grimace on face.
Reg:"Now that is one fine coat you're wearing there."
SLOW FADE TO BLACK
Meanwhile in the secret Bunker , Miles under the harmless Dassade of the Themepark "Vacationland", the Doc and his Commandostaff are getting ready. Calm they press the buttons to launch the powerfull Ground-Air missiles. THIS IS IT COMERADES, US OR THEM. FORT HEMPEL, GOD AND A FREE WORLD, TAKE THEM DOWN.
(end of story)
Cut Shot: Reflection in a helmet visor - a trench-coated figure highlighted upon a luminous green display, cross-hairs centred upon the figure's chest.
Bubble 1: 'Target painted'
Bubble 2: 'Release on my Mark - 2 - 1 - Mark!'
Camera pans across 2 2000lb laser-guided bombs as they fall from their pylons and begin their long arc towards the ground... One of the Hempel-esque soldiers looks upward at the cloudless blue sky and catches the sun glint from multiple tumbling silver-teardrop canisters; the lines of angular, defined soldiery are outlined against the stark white flash of the Napalm bursting then dissolve into orange-red flame as the fireball blossoms and expands...
(end of story)
Uh-oh...things are getting serious! OK then...
HIGH ABOVE THE EARTH: A looming, radar-stealthed satellite slowly drifts into it's new trajectory, hovering in geosynchronous orbit over the Hempel-spawned grotesqueries. Deep within its cavernous innard, banks of lights are steadily flipping from amber to green...
Scanning for spotter's targetting marker...laser dot acquired
Target analysis...bipedial, but showing few other human characteristics...they're Hempel jobs
Requesting authorisation to commit...granted
Laser excitant...commencing feed
<A few seconds pass...>
<Huge doors slowly swing open revealing the barrel of a nigh-unbelievably large laser cannon, pointed downwards>
<Within the satellite, mighty engines begin to glow>
Suddenly, the normally dark and incompehensible gloom of the Hempel camp is illuminated by a fierce glow from above. The glow starts getting brighter...
Hope y'all remembered to pack your suntan lotion... :-)
|(continued from Reg above)
'Don't be a fool man - you'll never make it!'
Reg regards the ladder then looks back to the figure of our hero - he smiles, his expression that of someone enjoying a secret joke and then leaps for the ladder, arms outstretched... He falls short, there is a splash and the men rush forward, reach out to grasp the single hand that briefly, almost mockingly, clutches at the air and then slides beneath the surface...
Fade to the roar of the water...
(end of story)
|(continued from Ian above)
CUT TO: A scene on the battle field. Preparing for an onslaught from the defense satellite system, the troops rally.
Walker: "Prepare the BFM!"
Troop#1: "BFM in place, and ready Sir!"
EXT: Tracking POV shot of a group of the Hempel-ites pulling back a huge tarp...underneath is a perfectly flat and angular BIG FUCKING MIRROR (also illustrated in the flat-heavy angled Hempel way) that is placed underneath the impending high-watt laser.
Walker: "Curved sufaces, my ass." <watches the beam be reflected upon itself>
*hey* - how'd you walk away from 4000lbs of High Explosive??
Maybe I don't want to know (looks nervously at door)
Well don't expect me to help. You chased me into a sodding sewer. (see Garry, left)
<snip all the macho stuff with guns and stuff>
EXT: A boy, about 10 runs into a street between the two amassing gangs.
Boy: Tell them Mr. Bear.
EXT: Zoom to the boys mouth. A bear crawls from the boy's mouth, slightly wet and sticky from mucus.
Bear: Don't fight, lets all live in peace and Hempel.
EXT: Pull out to reveal the floor springing into blood, lillys and pansies and roses and daffodils replace guns, trees replace buildings. The world rejoices, no more war, and lots of Hempel!
Suddenly, the voice of Hempel himself, speaking to his faithfull followers and ...other people alike:
THIS IS GETTING INCREASINGLY SILLY
(end of story)