Жиромазавр
Найди смысл... Он рядом. Верблюд с бзджным животом.

Блять! "Слоника" в HD удалили, суки-и!

Проблема в том, что им версии без сабов подсунули, в связи с чем они пропустили все охуительные истории. И это странно: просабленная версия есть на Ютубе.

Глубоко я не копал, но знаю, что на Синемагеддоне переводят английскими сабами и советские, и российские фильмы.

Кто сделал английские сабы к "Слонику" - хз, вроде бы кто-то из наших.

Судя по его настрою и поведению, Осмоловского уже задолбали вопросом: "Орём или орёл?", как и вообще с темой ЗС. Уверен, что он уже сам не помнит, что сказал там и ляпнул "орёл" на отцепись. Впрочем, мне тоже там упорно слышится "орёл".

Попросил нейросеть написать сценарий ремейка сабжа. В новом каноне Пахом оказывается осознанным злодеем, а Маслаев - практически положительный персонаж.

Scene: A dimly lit, dank cell in a Soviet penal military prison. The walls are a sickly green, and the sound of dripping water echoes in the small space. Bratishka (Epifantsev), wears a weary expression, while Poyekhavshiy (Pakhomov) chatters away, seemingly unfazed.

Pakhomov: (leaning against the wall, grinning) You know, Bratishka, I had this fantastic idea once! What if we’d turned this cell into a restaurant? I’d call it “The Green Bistro.” (laughs)

Epifantsev: (sighs, rubbing his temples) This isn’t a time for jokes, Nutcase. We’re stuck in a prison, not a café!

Pakhomov: (ignoring him) But think about it! We could serve... (pauses dramatically) rat stew! (snickers)

Epifantsev: (glaring) You’re seriously delusional. Eat some rat and you’ll be the one in the stew!

Pakhomov: (laughs, tilting his head) Come on, lighten up! Must be all that horrible tea making you grumpy.

Epifantsev: Don’t talk to me about that… (gestures sharply at the floor) What if I fed you this sludge instead—think you’d be happy then?

Pakhomov: (playful) You’d never—wait… (sniffs the air) Is that…?

Epifantsev: (eyes narrow) What are you talking about?

Pakhomov: (leans closer, glancing at the shared plate) It smells... like dinner!

Epifantsev: (horrified) Dinner?! It’s disgusting!

Pakhomov: (cheerful) Dinner is what we make of it, brother! (nods toward the makeshift plate) I thought we’d share.

Epifantsev: (yelling) Share? You mean you just defiled our only plate and expect me to eat from it? Are you out of your mind?

Pakhomov: (grinning) But it’s a delicacy! I’m just trying to keep our spirits up—you know, camaraderie and all that!

(The guard, Maslaev, barges into the cell, looking annoyed.)

Maslaev: What’s all this yelling about? You two are drawing unnecessary attention!

Epifantsev: (pointing at Pakhomov) It’s this maniac! He’s gone mad from the lack of food, and now he’s feeding me this… this filth!

Pakhomov: (innocently) I’m just trying to make the best of our situation. Isn’t that right, Maslaev?

Maslaev: (rolling his eyes, approaches Epifantsev) You should be grateful—too many complaints could earn you a harsher punishment!

Epifantsev: (snarls) I’d rather clean the toilet than touch that!

Maslaev: (grins maliciously) Then it's settling, isn't it? Off you go. (grabs Epifantsev roughly, pulling him out of the cell)

Pakhomov: (yells after him) Don't forget the fork!

(Maslaev exits, dragging Epifantsev away. Pakhomov sits down, giggling to himself.)

Pakhomov: (talking to himself) “Prison gourmet,” I could sell that in a book! “Recipes from the Basement.” Starting with...

(Hours later, Epifantsev, disheveled and exhausted, is thrown back into the cell. He collapses to the ground.)

Epifantsev: (groaning) You wouldn’t believe what they make me do...

Pakhomov: (smirking) Did you at least get to taste the fine porcelain of our toilet?

Epifantsev: (glares, about to explode) What is wrong with you? I’m barely holding it together!

Pakhomov: (cheerfully) But I got us dinner!

Epifantsev: (turns, aghast) You're joking, right?

Pakhomov: (holds up the plate proudly) Care for a bite?

Epifantsev: (screaming) I’ll kill you! I’ll strangle you with my bare hands!

Pakhomov: (laughs, defiant) Ah, but that sounds like you’re hungry too!

(Maslaev bursts back in, startled by the commotion.)

Maslaev: (sneers) More trouble, I see…

Pakhomov: (grinning) Trouble? No, we were just brainstorming ways to revolutionize prison cuisine!

Maslaev: (crosses his arms, unimpressed) Enough of your nonsense!

(Outside the chaos, Epifantsev slumps against the wall, visibly unraveling, twitching with pent-up rage.)

Epifantsev: (to himself) I’m losing my mind in here…

(As Pakhomov continues his rambling, the scene fades, leaving the audience with a sense of looming dread and madness.)

Отредактировано Папа Хэйдс (2024-08-23 18:14:44)

А я больше люблю рисовать нейросетью. Иногда рисую иллюстрации к своим охуительным историям.

А я всё жду вторую часть в онлайн-кинотеатрах.