- Ultra hi-def digital footage of a beautiful girl walking along a beach in Ibiza. Behind her is an army of muscular men, all pumping their fists in unison. The beautiful girl stares directly into the camera. She begins to speak: “It is Charlie’s Birthday and it is Time to Celebrate. Are you ready to have Crazy Sexy Fun in the Sun? How does that Old Sea Shanty go again? Yo ho, yo ho, a Bag of Molly for me! Oh come on Boys—let’s get Headless!” Yellow captions in Papyrus font are displayed at the bottom of the screen. From somewhere, in the middle distance, a DJ plays Balearic trance.
- Restored technicolor film of a beautiful (but mysterious!) woman in a caftan walking across the desert. Three shirtless men follow her from behind, careful not to make new footprints in the sand. The woman, teary-eyed, looks just beyond the camera. She begins to speak: “Charlie, it is your birthday. Do you know how old you are today? You are now the same age as DJ Giovanni, just before his untimely death. I would like it if you kept that in mind. Let us float in the wave pool and have some fun. But not too much. I have to be up early tomorrow. Let us consider the ocean mural and remember how lucky we are. Let us eat dates and drink wine. Let us feel something again—something that is both almost enough and almost too much. Does that make sense to you, Charlie? Do I make any sense at all?” White captions are displayed at the bottom of the screen, although slightly out of sync with the woman’s cadence. A cymbal crashes from high above. The three men cower in fear.
- Grainy CCTV feed of an emaciated woman in a green poncho searching through a pile of cans. A little man with a beer belly does a drunken jig in front of her. She sighs, brushing him aside. The surveillance camera zooms-in tight, racking focus on her jagged cheek bones. The woman then snaps her head towards the lens, in sudden awareness of being watched. She begins to speak: “Charlie? Is that you? You told me I should always be ready. Well, here I am. I’ve got the butter and the money for the butter.” She holds up a rusty tin of fish and chuckles. “Remember how we used to buy those baggies? Remember how they’d make us feel like forever? We were angels back then, Charlie. And when we dipped our wetted pinkies into the powder—that was our heaven. DJ Giovanni took his own life while in Paradise. He had the right idea, huh? Not me. I’ve let myself rot away, like a piece of forgotten fruit. And here I am, year after year, still wishing you a happy birthday, when you’ve been gone for so long now. You died in your sleep, a sudden pulmonary embolism. Sixty-three years young you would’ve been today, Charlie. You would’ve found it hilarious, how this all turned out. You would’ve loved my precious cans.” The woman grabs her tiny breasts in mock-seduction. The little man tugs on the woman’s frayed poncho, looking up at her with hungry eyes. She kneels down and hisses in his face. “Oh come on boy, let’s get headless!” Frightened, he scurries away, out of frame. Simplified Chinese characters stutter across as a news ticker. A quivering voice-over, akin to a theremin, hums a half-remembered ditty. The little man bites at the woman's ankle. She screams and slits his throat with a sharpened pull tab.
- A 3D-render of a yellow minion facing forwards. It begins to speak: “Happy Birthday Charlie!” A thousand children jump up and down in the background. They wear party hats and have big smiles. Balloon letters spell out HAPPY BIRTHDAY in the upper quadrant of the screen. From everywhere, in all directions, the sound of his birthday drowns out the slop.
