"Now wait just a minute!" The Oogie Boogie man pleaded. Nicholas Cage still held the magnum raised to aim directly at the green charlatan.
"I don't like to wait," said Nicholas, cocking his gun a second time, to no effect, "Give me the money."
The Oogie Boogie man eyed him with fear, and yet also with burning distaste; a contempt that was as intense as the LED's in the Boogie Man's cellar. The Boogie Man reached under the counter discreetly, eyes still locked on Nicholas. Too late, Cage realized what the Boogie Man was doing, but could not react soon enough to dodge what came next.
The Boogie Man raised a sawed - off double barrel shotgun from under the counter, behind the racks of tobacco and condoms, and took aim. "Drop it!" He cried.
Seeing defeat, Nicholas weighed his options. With a sour face, Nicholas Cage crouched down slowly, staring at the Boogie Man and his shotgun unblinking, and set the golden magnum down softly on the ground, provoking only the slightest of clicks as it hit the ground. Cage then stood up, hands in the air, surrendering.
"Good choice, lil' man. Now, who sent you?" He took large, ponderous steps closer to Cage until the shotgun was against his head.
"You know who sent me."
"No," Oogie pushed the gun on his head harder, "Who really sent you?"
Nic Cage swallowed. He wasn't quite sure how to lie to a large green sack with a shotgun. He sighed and answered, "The Author's Guild."
Oogie raised a vaguely - defined eyebrow. "Really? I'm flattered!" He looked up. "Till!" he shouted, like an uncle welcoming a nephew.
Nic Cage turned to see the lead singer of Rammstein, Till, was standing in the door to the porn section. On his arms were two large and threatening - looking flamethrowers. He flared them twice for a menacing effect.
"Tie up this hammy sammich, my boy!" The Oogie Boogie man waddled back behind the counter and zipped up his indian man uniform. Till started walking towards him. He looked almost bored.
Quickly, Nic Cage lunged for the magnum, rolled, and shot at Till. It hit the thin plaster ceiling behind him.
"You missed," Said Till in an extremely accented blurb of speech.
"I wasn't ai -"
"-aiming for him?" Finished Oogie. He held up the shotgun, pointing it at Cage.
"No. Instead, I was aiming for the pipe that was hissing a while ago, but none of you noticed. The pipe was, presumably, some extremely flammable gas which, at the slightest provocation, could explode without warning. Also, the porno room is laced with nitroglycerin, C4, TNT, and mustard gas."
They all waited, staring at the beaded entrance to the porno room.
"Any minute now," Nic cage tip - toed out the door.
"H - hey!" cried Oogie.
And then the whole shop exploded without warning behind Nic Cage, presumably incinerating the two men inside.
"There's one thing crappier than the Author's Guild, and that's turncoats!" William Shatner leaned back, sighing. Jim Beaver and Sal Lizzard swigged their beers in unison.
The Actor's Conglomerate was jam packed for this meeting. Arnold Schwarzenegger kept trying to hide his thick Austrian accent as he discussed the rogue Nicholas Cage. "And naow, he's keeled two of ah best mehn, and one of ah meny fronts."
"It's just one front," said Clint Eastwood to Arnold's chair. "We have plenty!"
"That's not enough to be so reckless!" Said Bruce Lee. " Stop being so loose - assed."
Eastwood stood up. "You feelin' lucky, punk?"
"Men!" Said Patrick Stewart, with a patriarchal gleam in his eye, "Infighting will get us nowhere."
"We must track daun the traitor, and fast!" said Ahnold.
"Make it so," Patrick Stewart sipped his water. "How much manpower do we need?"
"I suggest a systematic approach," Said Bruce. "We search every block of that city, like procedure."
"You shittin' me?" Billy Mays gesticulated wildly with his arms. "That'll take forever!"
Leonard Nimoy sighed. "I wouldn't complain, Mays, since you are only an honorary member to this Conglomerate."
Shatner sipped a glass of milk. "Let's launch an actual investigation. Start with those close to Cage."
Suddenly the double oak doors of the chamber opened. All the Actors in the Conglomerate glanced up.
"I may be of some help," Said John Travolta. In his hand, a crumpled Polaroid of Nic Cage.