Okay, so we’ve got this whole story being told by prehistoric shamans to tell their own creation myth, a kind of caveman’s Genesis, that involves a first human that has the first vision of a possible world, which strikes him like a religious revelation, that leads the tribe to leave the cave in search of the vision, and to wander the world forevermore. But that’s a bit relentless stylistically, and plus we think it would be nice to visit the modern world as well, to encourage speculation about how things have changed since prehistory. So now we’re thinking we’ve got two stories, interwoven, that will culminate together at the end. One: the cave-Genesis. And the other, set in the modern world, that follows a balloon with a happy-face on it through the various emotional breakdowns it inflicts: the single Dad, trying to earn his kid’s love with the balloon, the kid, uninterested, lets it go; the balloon floating away into the sky; a guy, getting ready to jump from his window-ledge, sees the balloon floating by, and is heartened, but reaches for it, and slips, and falls; a balloon seller dressed as a clown trying to parallel park his car full of balloons and losing his temper hysterically, when suddenly the guy from the window ledge lands on his hood, providing abrupt perspective. The balloon drifts up to the moon, where the Moonlings worship it is as a divine visitation, and then shrivels up and falls to earth to be discovered by an old person wistfully remembering their youth. That kind of thing. We alternate between cave-story and balloon story, with occasional documentary-style narrations about the evolution of the brain and the purpose of happiness and so on. The cave-story resolves with the tribe lost in the wastes, starving, deciding to eat the guy who lead them away from their home, and then the woman he’s impregnated going into labour – and here’s where we really go off the deep end – she gives birth to an enormous happy-face balloon, like, seven feet across, grinning at the audience, which pulls our two narratives together at the end in a satisfyingly ambiguous and funny way. Because when all is said and done, happiness is really just not taking it all too seriously, we think.
Or something like that.