INT. SOUTH PHILLY POLICE STATION — HOLDING CELL — NIGHT
FRANK and CRICKET are slumped against the bars. The walls are vibrating, and the fluorescent lights are humming a tune in a language only they understand. Frank is cradling his broken, swollen hand.
FRANK (groaning)
I fucking hate you, Cricket.
CRICKET (weakly)
The fruit... it was a cruel mistress. She gave us the world, and then she took our dignity.
FRANK
It was mold, you idiot. My insides are doing the Macarena and my hand looks like a purple balloon. We didn't even get to see the gold.
CUT TO BLACK.
CUT TO: INT. DENNIS'S APARTMENT — NIGHT
The room is pitch black, save for the blueish, flickering glow of a laptop screen. DENNIS is sitting perfectly still in his designer chair, his face illuminated with a terrifying, clinical intensity. On the screen, a fan-subbed anime site is open.
SFX: MINOR PIANO NOTES: DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO.
Dennis's eyes are wide, unblinking. He slowly raises his right hand, holding a single, salt-and-vinegar potato chip with the precision of a diamond cutter.
DENNIS
(whispering, his voice vibrating with sociopathic power)
When I'm alone... when the world of idiots and birds is finally quiet... when the 'Straw Hats' are tucked into their basements... I hit enter...
His finger hovers over the key.
DENNIS
AND DOWNLOAD IT!
He slams the ENTER key with a sound like a gavel.
Dennis begins to cackle—a high, shrill, maniacal sound that fills the small apartment. He laughs harder and harder, his eyes bulging, until he suddenly doubles over, hacking and coughing violently on a sharp piece of the potato chip.
DENNIS
(gasping for air, face turning red)
I'm... a God... (coughs)... of the... bar... (wheezes)... I am the Pirate King... of the Internet...
SMASH TO BLACK. ROLL CREDITS.