Dogs sighing with ecstatic relief as the 8-bit music of the spheres swells to a triumphant conclusion and the universe dissolves away to reveal a message inscribed into the void reading “LEVEL 2.”
Dogs tossing aside Marie Antoinette’s severed head in annoyance, complaining, “But our princess is in another castle.”
Dogs pressing your digitized corpse into a wood chipper and calling to an absent camera over 8-bit grinding sounds as a stream of untethered pixels flies forth and coats the landscape, “CHIPTUNE.”
Dogs surveying a museum exhibit of video game systems and shedding a single nostalgic tear before turning toward an absent audience and leaping out of the frame, out of existence, and off into oblivion.
Dogs surfing the waves of a Nicaraguan mudslide through a rapidly disintegrating countryside, and humming along to the Super Mario Bros. theme while spiraling down endlessly into a bottomless canyon.
Dogs gasping in anguish as all mid-century cultural nostalgia and longing is obliterated in the concussive blast of a hydrogen bomb while an unseen voice instructs uselessly, “Play a video game.”
Dogs exiting Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, lamenting, “I was rooting for the World.”
Dogs rotating at the head and explaining in the alien, Autotuned voice of the Other, “Space Invaders are Smoking Grass.”
Dogs arriving at the end of the universe and observing the progress of massive conglomerate blocks of matter toward a singularity as a crackly, 8-bit version of “Korobeiniki” blares throughout the reducing walls of space.
Dogs cracking open a dust-streaked NES game console to reveal 100 miniature human skeletons arranged in the formation, costumes, and instruments of a full-size symphony orchestra.