[Open on Enlil grooming his hair in front of a reflective copper mirror. He wears a tunic of fiery orange, a canary yellow undergarment, and an olive-colored sash.]
Nammu: (voice, heard in the far-off background) Enlil.
Enlil: (alarmed) What is it?
[Enlil…]
Enlil stops smoothing [his] hair and glances around before resuming. Suddenly, [he] hears a distant voice.
[Nammu]:(offscreen) Enlil!
Enlil: (offscreen) Hey, Nammu, come over here!
Enlil: [Nammu], where are you? Are you far?
[Enlil opens a chest below the washing area]
What is this?
[Looking inside his comb for signs of a camera]
Is everything here to keep a lookout?
[Enlil looks around uneasily.]
Nammu: (calling out from afar) Enlil, come to the workshop, Enlil!
[Transition to Enlil arriving at the workshop. There is a pickled vegetable and a tool on Nammu’s workbench.]
Nammu: On my anvil, Enlil.
Enlil: Art thou a specter, set to belch upon me?
Nammu: Invert the pickled vegetable.
Enlil: What sorcery is this? Shall I lay my hands on it and you claim it as an unearthly phallus?
Nammu: Do not falter, Enlil. Turn the pickle, and you shall find great reward.
Nammu, with a mischievous grin, is turned over. Enlil gasps upon discovering Nammu’s face etched onto a pickle. “I’ve transformed myself into a pickle, Enlil! Behold! This is my grand reveal: I am a pickle! Why doth thou gaze upon me so, Enlil? I hath transformed myself into a pickle!”
Enlil: And?
Nammu: “And”? What more dost thou seek to add to this? I transformed myself into a pickle, and the collapse of the ziggurat was a hidden machination?
Enlil: Knowest thou it to be true?
Nammu: Who cares, Enlil? Wars and conflicts happen every day. Ah, here’s something that’s never happened before: I am a pickle. I am Pickle Nammu!
Enlil: Are you kidding me? Being a pickle doesn’t make you cool or interesting. You need to find a way to turn back into your original form.
Nammu: But why? This is a great opportunity for me to explore the world in a new way. And don’t forget, Enlil, I’m still a god.