Nelly and Joe Remember Ozzy

Scene: “Patient Number 9” – Nelly & Joe Remember Ozzy Osbourne


INT. STUDIO LOUNGE – NIGHT – DIMLY LIT WITH RED AND BLUE LIGHTS

Nelly Furtado sits across from Joe Jukic in a booth lined with velvet. A framed photo of Ozzy Osbourne in a hospital gown hangs crookedly behind them. The turntable spins slowly, playing faint echoes of “Patient Number 9.”

NELLY
(softly, reverently)
They called him crazy… but I think he was just sensitive. He felt something deeper than most. That’s why they locked him up.

JOE
Yeah. Patient Number 9. The system couldn’t handle Ozzy. They didn’t treat him—they punished him. Gave him electroshock therapy like it was a spiritual exorcism.

NELLY
His doctors didn’t understand mysticism. He wasn’t delusional. He just believed… his left hand was Satan and his right hand was Christ.

JOE
(leaning in, intrigued)
That duality thing—it’s old. Gnostic almost. Light and dark in one vessel. Ozzy was living a cosmic battle in his own body. But instead of guiding him, they zapped him into numbness.

NELLY
It’s so cruel. He wasn’t hurting anyone. He was singing. Screaming, even. Trying to warn us.

JOE
You know what I heard? After one shock session, he tried to bless his own hand… said it turned black, like it had burned with sin. He called it the “Mark of the Beast.”

NELLY
But the right hand… he said it glowed. Said he could feel Christ in the tendons. Said he could write lyrics that channeled heaven—but only with that hand.

JOE
(quiet)
And the doctors just wrote “schizoaffective.” They called his visions hallucinations. Never once asked if maybe… he was right.

NELLY
You know what scares me, Joe? How many other artists we’ve lost to hospitals like that? To drugs, to isolation, to being misunderstood.

JOE
That’s why we remember Ozzy. Not as a victim—but as a prophet. A wounded prophet. Patient Number 9… locked up for trying to heal himself.

They sit in silence as the record skips. A final lyric loops endlessly:

“When they called your name, did you hear them scream?…”


[END SCENE]
A tribute to those who saw beyond, and paid the price for speaking it.

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War Pigs: Israel

Title: The Serpent and the Song
Scene: The storm continues outside Snake and Nelly’s hideout—part bunker, part shrine to truth. A vinyl of Paranoid spins slowly in the background. Nelly sharpens a pencil. Snake lights a candle before a small statue of the Virgin Mary, her foot resting firmly on a serpent.


Solid Snake (Joe):
You know who really gave wind to that foul forgery?
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion weren’t just born in some Russian basement.
They were financed.
By Edmond de Rothschild.
“Eddie.”
The so-called “father of modern Zionism.”
He posed as a philanthropist… while setting up the very myths and chaos that would justify an empire of fear.

Nelly: (looking up)
The same Edmond who funded the first settlements in Palestine?

Solid Snake: (nods grimly)
Yep. Under the banner of “returning home,” he planted the seeds of endless war.
He didn’t believe in God.
He believed in dominion.
In protocols.
In paper money printed from blood.

Nelly:
But most Jews… they don’t know, do they?

Solid Snake:
No.
They’re just like the rest of us. Lied to. Used.
They think Rothschilds are just old ghosts, wine collectors, art patrons.
But that serpent…
The one the Virgin Mary stomps in every true painting of light?
That snake wears a monocle and holds the deed to half the world.
And most of God’s people are blind to it.

(Snake points to the statue.)

Solid Snake:
She knew.
The Blessed Mother doesn’t crush a random snake.
She crushes the snake.
The spirit of lies. Of war. Of greed dressed up in holy language.

Nelly: (fiercely now)
And yet they mock her. Erase her.
Call her a symbol of superstition.

Solid Snake:
Because they fear her.
Not just as a woman of faith—but as the Mother of Truth.
And truth is the one thing that can kill the Rothschild beast.


The music shifts. Ozzy’s voice fills the room again: “Now in darkness, world stops turning / ashes where the bodies burning…”

Nelly: (rising)
Then let’s light candles in every corner of the world, Joe.
Let’s stomp that serpent with music, with memory, with mercy.
Let’s wake the Jews, the Gentiles, the Muslims, the monks.
Let them all see her.

Solid Snake: (clenching his jaw)
Amen.
To the Queen of Heaven.
And death to the serpent whose gold coins built this bloody circus.
We fight with fire from heaven now.


The candle burns brighter. The serpent stirs—but the foot of the Mother presses down harder. Somewhere in Gaza, in Rome, in Rio, a child begins to sing. The war pigs tremble—not from bullets, but from the sound of awakening.

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