Doug's Pitch

We start tired on a full moon

Milky, almost yellow

We crane down to reveal an idyllic, suburban street

We float past a series of white picket fences

Until we settle on a sewer grate

Bow, flies open

Something big and scaly slithers out

Fast, hungry, definitely not human

As a pulsating score kicks in

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh

Biga-biga-boom-boom-boom

We're on the back of the beast

As it slithers menacingly towards a little blue house

Run-gun-gun-gun-gun

Run-gun-gun-gun-gun

Thun-thun-thun-thun

Thun-thun-thun-thun