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"One Fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish. Some are red and some are blue, some are old and some are new. Some are sad and some are glad. And some are very, very bad." -- Dr. Seuss

It’s 11:15 AM, May 15th, 1975. A nondescript American diner. Mick and Irene are two young American twenty-somethings, upper class and educated, madly in love, jaded. Desperate to be surprised and to see something, anything, go down in flames.

"Why are they all sad and glad and bad, Mick?" Irene coos, kicking him gently under the table as she watches the diner's patrons. She is very sexy.

"I don't know. Go ask your dad."

"You're such an ass,” she retorts playfully.

After a long pause, Mick continues, "Some are thin and some are fat?”

"The fat one has a yellow hat!"

"What a dick," Mick grunts as he inhales a mountain of cocaine off the table.

"I know"

"From here to there, from here to there, funny things everywhere," Mick slurs, stroking an automatic rifle under the table. Irene makes a gun out of her thumb and index finger and pretends to shoot the folks in the booth across from them.

"Here are some who like to run! They run for fun in the hot hot sun!"

"Oh me! Oh my!" Mick laughs sinisterly.

"Oh me! Oh my!" Irene echoes.

A washed up teenage waitress wordlessly brings their greasy burgers and fries on plastic baskets covered in checkered wax paper. They gulp them down with vigor.

"What a lot of funny things go by," Mick muses through a cheeseburger, twitching. He continues, "Some have two feet and some have four. Some have six feet and some have more. I have no idea what I mean by that."

"Where do they come from?" asks Irene, leaning forward on her sexy elbows, suddenly rapt with interest.

"I cant say. I bet they have come a long, long way."

"We see them come, we see them go. Some are fast and some are slow."

"Some are high and some are low," Mick chuckles.

A distinctly hip undercover cop who strongly resembles Samuel L. Jackson walks by, suddenly stopping at their table and turning to them, leaning onto the table, inches from their faces. They don’t know that he’s an undercover cop, but he knows exactly who they are and what they want to do. He stares each in the eye for an uncomfortably long time.

"Not one of them is like another," he murmurs. Police start awkwardly filing two by two through the small revolving door.

Mick spits in the unfazed undercover cop's face. Irene giggles, clearly impressed. "Don't ask us why - go ask your mother" Mick seethes defiantly.

Groovy surf music starts blaring from the restaurant’s speakers. The cop calmly stands up and draws two pistols.

Mick and Irene triumphantly pull their automatic rifles out from under the table. Stepping up onto it, they kiss ferociously while spraying the room with bullets. The cops turn over tables and crouch behind them, taking hesitant shots that consistently hit the windows behind the young couple. Alarms sound and sprinklers blast jets of water from the ceilings as the entire kitchen catches fire and explodes. A police car crashes through the window on the opposite side of the diner and explodes. Outside, a riot starts and a helicopter crashes and explodes. Filled with bullets but still standing, the undercover cop drops his pistols to the bloody floor and unsheathes two swords. Catching Mick and Irene by surprise, he throws the two swords, one going through each's forehead and skewering them to the wall. Everything stops.

The cop pulls his swords out of the wall and Mick and Irene crumple to the ground and explode. In the most badass voice possible, he turns around and utters to whomever maybe listening, "One fish, two fish. Red fish, dead fish.”