#24 (120 seconds): A medical team stands tight around an operating table. Machines beep, a ventilator hums, lights are so bright they flare out the camera as it moves to show us the focused face of each doctor and nurse. We stop for a while on one particularly grim mouth, eyes, and pull back to see how this man's posture is different than that of his colleagues. This is the lead surgeon and he has a hand in the patient, now outside of the patient, gory and slick. A nurse gives him a new tool, which he slips into the patient, and for ten seconds maybe he works. There is a tiny camera in there and we can barely see what it sees, displayed on a screen near the operating table.
Suddenly, the lead surgeon yells and throws up his wet hands. He takes in the shocked faces around him, then reaches back into the patient, pulls out a long slithering thing, then more of it, then another. Someone touches his shoulder and he throws a punch. The other doctors now back away while he tugs things out of the patient and a machine beeps more quickly. Almost imperceptibly, a plastic tube threads its way into the frame from overhead and begins to flood the room with vanilla pudding.
#25 (15 seconds): A well-dressed family of an indiscernible number of generations sits around a carefully dressed dining table in a carefully maintained restaurant. Dishes and wine glasses and knives and forks and rings and necklaces and teeth shine. An old man at the head of the table stands and conversation respectfully dies. "You all," he says. "You're all my Deans." He smiles, waiting for appreciation, but no one knows what he's talking about. No one at the table knows anyone named Dean. They live in a universe without people named Dean. Also this universe still has dinosaurs, but they are tiny, having evolved to hide in the spaces where they will not be harassed by children or scientists. What has happened is that one has bitten the old man, just moments ago, and the venom of his tiny mouth has already acted on the old man's brain.