"Yes! Begin your pitch."
"Home Run, wall-kissing goodbye hit describes it best, not merely heavy petting third base but totally out of Yankee Stadium, duh Brooklyn Armpit. There is this demon who desperately flees Hell and torture. Asmodeus redeemed, leaning toward good deeds, kind works. So Beastie-Boy digs beyond Hades by tunneling into Saint PuddlyWhumps' Church while da joint offers plenary indulgences. Comically, our creep misses freedom via several furlongs, surfaces in Miss Muffy's whorehouse. After seventeen whores bless the bugger with their..." Pausing, rolling baby blue eyes, "...special Holy Water, Mama Fifi LaTuushe lets him stay because Big Dick leaves them screaming for more, pays dem gold bullion also. Eventually, whore boredom grips dat brothel. Prostitutes, authentic queers, phony virgins, shit-eating-grin-faced Johns initially just denounced all hellspawn before retaliating like deranged trollops. Castration ensues, Emasculation most foul featuring incantations, pentagrams, black candles, relegating an antihero, satanic, errant devil back behind me!"
EE raised his hand. "Hmmmmm, awfully daring plot convergence -- Dogma, Plan Nine, Russell's White Worm, pathos, bathos, horse manure, crap, poo, fluffiness, seriocomic dramedy."
"Staring Shia LeBouef. Including canine sidekicks, multiracial characters, voodoo rituals, paranormal visitations."
"Eminently marketable movie fodder. What if you get tyrannical direction, drugged stunt men, too much overtime pay, egotistical stars? Comatose performances?"
"Den itsa Hollywood cluster-frack! I become my idol, Alan Smithee." Author said, stupidly playacting foreignness, joyously goofily successful.