Y'all know I don't like writing my dreams down 'case they come real.
The scene is a New York Apartment. A man leans out of the window with his camera, and takes a photo. The camera has a long lens on it. The man's name is Tim.
Tim: That's was a good one.
Interviewer: [unseen] Who was it?
Tim: I didn't know them. Just felt right.
Tim: Well sometimes it's because of their hair colour or their clothes, but this one I think it was a combination of all these things.
Interviewer: Is this one going in the special room?
Tim: [He looks away] It's too early to tell.
Tim gets out of bed. And approaches the pottery wheel.
Tim: I do most of the work at night, the electric is cheaper.
He takes out a printed photo.
Tim: This is the one from earlier. Can you see the bone structure? It's pretty neat.
Later, we see Tim putting the finishing touches on a statue of a head. It is the one from the photo.
Tim: Yeah, she's a pretty one. Prettiest this quarter I reckon. Maybe of the fiscal year.
Tim: I usually get first goes. Then I sell them.
Interviewer: How much do they-
Tim: About 68 dollars.
Interviewer: And how many do you-
Tim: Probably 5 a week?
Interviewer: Do you ever worry that one day you'll just lose the talent?
Tim: Well talents only go away if you don't use them.
Interviewer: K. Could I...could I purchase this one?
Tim: 70 dollars.
Interviewer: I'll give you 90 if I get to go on her first.
Tim: That's...that's a tough...
Interviewer: I'm sorry, it was presumptuous.
Tim: 70 will be fine.
The interviewer is putting wigs on the head. He is a flamboyant man.
Interviewer: Why, you look just darling!
Interviewer: I love playing with it.
Tim: You're supposed to have sex with it!
He punches the interviewer in the face!
Extreme! But seriously, this is what you get if you watch Napoleon Dynamite before you write. You end up with this mental shit that I'm pretty sure I'm going to look back on with scorn.
Didn't even mention pepsi.