Np: The Prince Of Egypt [Expanded Score] (Hans Zimmer) *****/*****

Once

I'll start with this (keep in mind that they are just entering the building)

The

"Humor: How To Know When Someone Is Making A Joke"

I was making fun of how this game had barely produced any coherent sentences.

It's sad that I feel I have to explain this.

John wrote "The".

So I write:

The building

Should keep some people from inserting random words (I hope).

* This means something like suddenly Williams remembered or something like that thank you

"Wait a second, I'm confused!" Williams exclaimed.

"And I'm a talking building!" said the building. "Nice to meet you. Have you composed anything I've heard recently?"
Williams smiled. "Ever heard 'The Towering Inferno, Mr. Building?"

"Oh cripes," Arnold moaned. "We can't go walking down the street without you mentioning 'Towering Inferno'...Geez."

"Aah, clam it Mr. 'I-composed-Godzilla-who-wrecked-the-Chrysler-building'." Williams raved. "Irwin Allen destroyed more real estate square footage than Devlin/Emmerich ever did."

"You left out Independence Day, smart-ass." Arnold smirked.

The building looked on, interestedly.

"Oh yeah, ID4. What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? ID4. That's so pretentious."

"Pretentious? The man's scoring Harry Potter, and he's talking to me about pretentious??" Arnold asked.

The building shrugged, in that building-shrugging-sort-of-way. "I never understood ID4, either."

"Who the hell asked you, anyway?" Arnold shot back.

"Don't take it out on the architecture, Dave." Williams said. "Besides, we all knew you were trying to out-grandiose me, anyway."

"Is this getting back to that old Patriot fight again?" Arnold asked.

"You mean the Academy Award(TM) nominated The Patriot?" Williams clarified.

"Do you know I'm the only composer other than John Barry to score more than one James Bond film?" Arnold retorted.

Williams laughed. "Yeah? And if they'd let Steven Spielberg direct 007 after his sucess with E.T., do you think we'd be having this argument? I think not, Stargate-boy."

In a burst of twangy guitar music, Hans Zimmer and Ennio Morricone pulled up in a black Ferrari. "Freeze, dirtbags!" Zimmer shouted, pointing a .75 caliber Moog at the two bickering men.

"Sollevare le vostre mani, per favore, Signores." Morricone added, swinging his entire score for The Mission to bear.

"What in the name of Jan Hammer is going on here?" Arnold asked, slightly disoriented.

Zimmer smirked. "This is a bust, wiseguys. You guys have been caught in a trying to out-do-each other transaction here. You didn't know it, but this here building was wired the whole time."

"Effing Frank Lloyd Wright wannabe-architecture bastard..." Williams muttered.

Zimmer cut Williams off. "Can it, maestro. You're going back to the big house."

Williams looked horrified. "What? You don't mean...."

Zimmer smirked. "That's right. Attack of the Clones has gone into post-preduction. Looks like you'll be doing hard time. Word is, Lucas wants himself a Jar-Jar theme."

Arnold laughed. Zimmer silenced him with a few bars from Pearl Harbor. Arnold broke into tears.

"Not so fast, English Dave. The word is Whitney Houston is doing the next Bond song. Looks like you'll have your own crap to deal with." Arnold cried harder.

Morricone slapped the two in cuffs and smiled. "La volta prossima, li inciteṛ a piangere, amico."