PRESS IT AGAIN

There's a button. Big.

Red.

Says: DO NOT PRESS.

(pause) Well that's

terrible design. Press it.

IF THAT'S THE WRONG BUTTON—

PRESS THAT MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN!

RED LIGHT! BAD SIGN!

HERE WE FUCKING GO AGAIN!

I KNOW WHAT IT SAYS!

I KNOW HOW THIS ENDS!

IF THAT'S THE WRONG BUTTON— PRESS THAT MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN!

First press—music gets louder.

Second—doors fly open. Third—whole room fills up.

Nobody invited these people.

Don't care. Fourth—car outside.

Whose car? Apparently mine now.

Keys?

Button. Of course.

Don't press— PRESS.

WRONG BUTTON!

PRESS IT AGAIN!

BAD DECISION! DO IT AGAIN!

EVERYBODY SAYING: "YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN'T—" Too late,

I already fucking did.

Now there are fireworks.

Marching drums. Whole street moving.

Somebody hands me another button.

This one's black.

Label says:

SERIOUSLY. DON'T.

Now you're just challenging me.

"Maybe stop while you're ahead." That's interesting.

Counterpoint— No.

PRESS. Car starts. Lights flash.

Guitar screaming. Strings running.

Bass shaking everything that isn't bolted down.

And there's one button left.

UNDO.

Undo? After all that work?

Nah. IF THAT'S THE WRONG BUTTON—

PRESS THAT MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN!

WHOLE ROOM SHAKING! LET THE TROUBLE WALK IN!

BAD IDEA? GOOD. LET'S SEE WHERE IT

ENDS! IF THAT'S THE WRONG BUTTON—

PRESS. THAT. MOTHERFUCKER. AGAIN!

(silence) Are

you sure? Absolutely not. (pause)