|
|
Line 71: |
Line 71: |
| Tom Bodett: And interview they did. And can't anybody say that by the end of the day, those two young fellers hadn't amassed a wide array of interesting national figures. But, as always, the villains were formulating their own cunning strategies... | | Tom Bodett: And interview they did. And can't anybody say that by the end of the day, those two young fellers hadn't amassed a wide array of interesting national figures. But, as always, the villains were formulating their own cunning strategies... |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| Gore: We'll just have to make those boys disappear, Washington Style! *Takes out a black, uniform looking cell-phone* Division Six, please. Yes, we need those two removed. Beautiful. See ya. | | Gore: We'll just have to make those boys disappear, Washington Style! *Takes out a black, uniform looking cell-phone* Division Six, please. Yes, we need those two removed. Beautiful. See ya. |
| | | |
Line 180: |
Line 181: |
| Sarge: We need a plan... | | Sarge: We need a plan... |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| Tom Bodett: Later that night they are all sitting around a battle plan written on the back of Motel 6 stationery. Sgt. Flutter has gone overboard. He's wearing an army helmet with bushes strapped to the top, and he's smeared camouflage paint all over his face and shell. | | Tom Bodett: Later that night they are all sitting around a battle plan written on the back of Motel 6 stationery. Sgt. Flutter has gone overboard. He's wearing an army helmet with bushes strapped to the top, and he's smeared camouflage paint all over his face and shell. |
| | | |
Line 218: |
Line 220: |
| Ditto: This is great. | | Ditto: This is great. |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| On TV: | | On TV: |
| Peter Jennings: This is ABC's special coverage of the National Democratic National Convention. We go now to Chief Analysts - George Stephonopolisisisisis. | | Peter Jennings: This is ABC's special coverage of the National Democratic National Convention. We go now to Chief Analysts - George Stephonopolisisisisis. |
Line 244: |
Line 247: |
| Tom Brokaw: ...It's true! *sobs* | | Tom Brokaw: ...It's true! *sobs* |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| In the main air draft... | | In the main air draft... |
| | | |
Line 286: |
Line 290: |
| Tom Bodett: And using those big ol' wangs o' his, that clever little terrapin managed to fly up and out of that dangerous sewer, and back into the air ducts of the DNC. Meanwhile, we go around to the pantry of the DNC, to find... huge sacks full of rich goodies flying out the windows? Looks like our heroes done raided the pantry... | | Tom Bodett: And using those big ol' wangs o' his, that clever little terrapin managed to fly up and out of that dangerous sewer, and back into the air ducts of the DNC. Meanwhile, we go around to the pantry of the DNC, to find... huge sacks full of rich goodies flying out the windows? Looks like our heroes done raided the pantry... |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| Cloaker: *coming out of the giant freezer lugging a HUGE turkey over his shoulder* Wow! We hit the jackpot! Let's get all this food into the truck. Where are all the donuts? | | Cloaker: *coming out of the giant freezer lugging a HUGE turkey over his shoulder* Wow! We hit the jackpot! Let's get all this food into the truck. Where are all the donuts? |
| | | |
Line 304: |
Line 309: |
| Neighbor: Uhh... The second speech is ending. He should be calling about now... | | Neighbor: Uhh... The second speech is ending. He should be calling about now... |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| ~ Meanwhile, back in the air ducts ~ | | ~ Meanwhile, back in the air ducts ~ |
| | | |
Line 312: |
Line 318: |
| Flutter: *struggling to move around in the balloons and net* MMmmf! HEEELP! | | Flutter: *struggling to move around in the balloons and net* MMmmf! HEEELP! |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| Down Below... | | Down Below... |
| | | |
Line 334: |
Line 341: |
| Peter Jennings: This is a stunning turn of events. Some sort of winged turtle opened the balloon nets, which Gore promptly told Dubya that he was going overboard with them. | | Peter Jennings: This is a stunning turn of events. Some sort of winged turtle opened the balloon nets, which Gore promptly told Dubya that he was going overboard with them. |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| Meanwhile in the back kitchen . . . | | Meanwhile in the back kitchen . . . |
| | | |
Line 390: |
Line 398: |
| Flutter: All right! No one moves, or this place goes skyway! | | Flutter: All right! No one moves, or this place goes skyway! |
| | | |
| + | ---- |
| ~ In the kitchen...~ | | ~ In the kitchen...~ |
| | | |
Line 430: |
Line 439: |
| Narrator: K smiles at J and reaches for his wallet. Flipping through his credit cards, he pulls out a card that reads... | | Narrator: K smiles at J and reaches for his wallet. Flipping through his credit cards, he pulls out a card that reads... |
| | | |
− | THIS CARD HEREBY CERTIFIES THAT | + | THIS CARD HEREBY CERTIFIES THAT<br> |
− | K | + | K <br> |
| IS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE MEGA MEGA EXTREME DOKI DOKI PANIK POLITICAL PARTY, WITH ALL RIGHTS, PRIVELEGES, AND DUTIES THEREBY CONFERRED | | IS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE MEGA MEGA EXTREME DOKI DOKI PANIK POLITICAL PARTY, WITH ALL RIGHTS, PRIVELEGES, AND DUTIES THEREBY CONFERRED |
| | | |
Line 453: |
Line 462: |
| | | |
| Ditto: Uh, yeah. What-a-shame-let's-just-go. *Pushes Sarge out the door as they all head out to the truck with all the goodies in it and drive off into the night* | | Ditto: Uh, yeah. What-a-shame-let's-just-go. *Pushes Sarge out the door as they all head out to the truck with all the goodies in it and drive off into the night* |
− |
| |
− | Back At the MMEDDP HQ (Motel 6)...
| |
− |
| |
− | Connie Chung: And so, everyone agrees that the Democratic National Convention took place without a single hitch.
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: Y'know, I can't remember a thing about that convention.
| |
− |
| |
− | Chung: Shut up! We're still on the air! *Smiles nervously at the screen*
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− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *shuts off the TV* Well, that was fun.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Patiently, Ditto walks out on stage and bows.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: For the benefit of those who have lost track of the plot, we at the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party sincerely apologize. Unlike those smarmy "other" political parties, we want you to enjoy maximum enjoyment of this OG. For those who have come in late, I will now explicate that last scene. We had all broken into the Democratic National Convention.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto, Vorpal, and Co. had raided the kitchen and stolen all their goodies, for our political convention.
| |
− |
| |
− | Sgt. Flutter had attempted to rappel down into the convention hall to give a speech.
| |
− | Unfortunately, he fell into Bill Clinton's soup.
| |
− |
| |
− | When the Secret Service came to get him, he scurried away, grabbed some cocktail weenies, and strapped them to his chest telling everyone he was rigged with explosives. No one was fooled, but he nonetheless began giving demands.
| |
− |
| |
− | Eventually, the Men in Black showed up, at the behest of AlGore (see earlier). They were going to blast him as an alien until Ditto (me) showed up and convinced them that he was from Earth, by showing that he was a member of a political party.
| |
− | We escaped, but we never did get to give any speeches, and the public's memory of the fiasco was erased when AlGore gave a particularly mind-numbing speech.
| |
− | Now, we are all back unharmed, at the Motel 6, planning what we'll do next.
| |
− |
| |
− | Thank you for your patience, and now, a word from our sponsors.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>A flag appears on the TV screen and patriotic music begins playing*
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: When I was growin' up out in the Midwest with my ma, pa, and 1.3 siblings, I learned that there was nothin' to me more precious than freedom. Now that I'm an adult, I learned that not everyone treasures the good old values my family and I grew up with. But this election year, there is one candidate who still believes in freedom.
| |
− |
| |
− | Another voice: A few years ago, I was struggling to feed my 15 children by myself and pay the rent on the rat-infested basement I lived in. Most politicians didn't seem to care. That's why I put my faith in the one candidate who believes Americans deserve more.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Every year, bad things happen to good people like you, and, I'm afraid it's all the fault of those disease-ridden vermin in Washington. That's why I need YOUR vote to help us help you. Together, we can take over the whole world, and make it work... for YOU. My policy of Compassionate World-Domination-ism will make for a better future for us all.
| |
− |
| |
− | First Voice: Thanky, Vorpal!
| |
− |
| |
− | Second Voice: Thank you, Vorpal!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Shows Vorpal sitting in front of a fireplace surrounded by a ludicrously cheerful bunch of people, with a well-groomed dog at his feet. *
| |
− |
| |
− | Disclaimer: Paid for by the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Campaign Fund.
| |
− | ...And now, back to our regularly scheduled OG.
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: It's Late Night with Conan O'Brien! Conan's Guests tonight . . . Cuban: Little Elion Gonzalez, Actor: Joan Rivers and Political Candidate: Vorpal! And Here's your host . . . Conan O . . . Bri . . . en!
| |
− |
| |
− | Screen fizzes
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− |
| |
− | Other voice: Tonight on Jerry Springer: I'm In Love with the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party. . .
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− |
| |
− | Screen fizzes
| |
− |
| |
− | Yet another voice: Praise the Lord! My friends we . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Screen fades out
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Blast they're everywhere.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: They weren't in the religious thing . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Fool! That was Mr. Rogers!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Oh.
| |
− |
| |
− | -Back at Motel 6-
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Okay. Now that the DNC is over with, it's time to throw the... Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik National Convention!
| |
− |
| |
− | Weird Al: I should write a comeback song about you guys.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I thought "Polkamon" was your comeback song?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: In case you hadn't noticed, ALL of Weird Al's songs are comeback songs.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You know, he's right...?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: All right! Time to set up! We rented out the luxurious dining room in the lobby for our Main Floor. Sgt. Flutter, bring up all the hors d’oeuvres and decorations we stole from the DNC!
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: Right! *Floats off*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Vorpal, go get the main courses!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: OK! *Runs off holding fully-stamped Free Sub cards in his arms*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hahaha... this plan is working perfectly! Whoa. I'm sounding kinda evil here...
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, Ditto turns evil*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Mwhahahahaha!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, he changes back*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Wow. That won't be happening again. Lesse, is this all set up? *Thinks* I guess we're ready for the guests... Wait! THAT'S WHAT WE FORGOT! *Smacks his forehead* It's the week of our convention, and I never sent out any invitations!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Begins scribbling*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: …Dear...um… *eyes light up* ...Sapphire! You and one guest …(Miss Lady in Red) …are cordially invited to attend the… Mega Mega …Extreme Doki Doki Panik… National… Convention… *pauses and takes a deep breath* Please come and participate…. Thank you very much, the Staff of the MMEDDP National Committee…*frowns* okay, next… Dear... uhhh… hm… Mr ...*Thinks hard* er…Wanderfloonkster! We humbly request your... appearance... d'oh! I'll never write enough!
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: Hey, we'll help.
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− |
| |
− | Ditto: *gasps for breath* You... you will?
| |
− |
| |
− | Mr. Rogers: After all, what are neighbors for?
| |
− |
| |
− | Weird Al: This is something we all believe in.
| |
− |
| |
− | Monica: We won't let the MMEDDP Party down!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: But, the convention is this week! They STILL won't be delivered in time!
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: That won't be a problem!
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator...Uhhh.... That’s your cue, Tom!
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: Oh, right! Uh... They all turn to the door to see a girl with a black dress and a red bow in her hair standing in the doorway, holding a broom.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Kikki?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Kikki: Hey, even though you're a guy, you're the only one who stuck up for my movie! I'm going to return the favor. I'll deliver all the invitations myself!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: OK, let's get to work!
| |
− |
| |
− | --Later, in some other place--
| |
− |
| |
− | Mr. Predict: Hey, Yoshiman, er, I mean, Fuzzball, some girl on a flying broomstick just delivered this letter for you.
| |
− |
| |
− | Yoshiman: Really? *Reading* Dear Mr. Yoshiman/Fuzzball/Wrange Tirk, you and one guest (Mr. I. L. Predict) are cordially invited to attend the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik National Convention. Please come and participate. Thank you very much, the Staff of the MMEDDP National Committee.
| |
− |
| |
− | Mr. Predict: Let's go!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, looks like everyone showed up, which brings us to a grand total of... 18 people...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeah, but these are COOL guests! Look, there's Danny Wells (Luigi)... and over there, the sound effects guy from Police Academy, Michael Winslow... And, LOOK! There's Ben Stein!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ben Stein: *deadpan* Hi. I'm Ben Stein. And I have $5000 that says, "I know more than you."
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− |
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− | Ditto: You're goin' down, Stein!
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− |
| |
− | Ben Stein: *deadpan* Bring it on, brain drain. You'll never win *voice suddenly thunders* BEN STEIN'S MONEY!!!
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− |
| |
− | Yoshiman: Wow, what a neat convention.
| |
− |
| |
− | Fuzzball: Hey! Subs! Yumyumyumyum!
| |
− |
| |
− | Michael Winslow: *Makes sounds like "MMMM! Snarf, smack, gulp THIS GOOD!" behind Fuzzball's back while he eats*
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− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Everything's goin' smoothly. Nothing could possibly go wrong...
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: Suddenly, somethin' went wrong.
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− |
| |
− | Vorpal: NO! DON'T SAY THAT!!! *Smacks himself in the face*
| |
− |
| |
− | Suddenly, an explosion rips a hole in the wall, revealing… Pukecannon and AlGore!
| |
− |
| |
− | Michael Winslow: *imitating Japanese people from the Godzilla movies* It is Godzirra! We must free the city! Oh no! *Makes sounds like tanks and airplanes dropping bombs*
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore and Pukecannon step in.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: To protect the world from deforestation...
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: To tax the crap out of the entire nation...
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: To denounce the rights to free speech and guns...
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− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: To restore power to the unpopular ones...
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− |
| |
− | AlGore: Al!
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− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Pat!
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− |
| |
− | AlGore: Team Background, blast off at the speed of bureaucracy!
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− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *sweat* Nothing rhymes with bureaucracy!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: *sweat* I asked you if you wanted to go through it once more when we were outside!
| |
− |
| |
− | They both look up to see everyone staring at them.
| |
− |
| |
− | Buchanan: Uh... Drop out of the race, or our Vice Presidents will make you look like fools!
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− |
| |
− | AlGore: *pulls out a Pokeball* Leiberman, GO!
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− |
| |
− | Leiberman: Leib-er-man! Leib! Leiber!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What IS that thing? *Pulls out a Veepedex*
| |
− |
| |
− | Veepedex: Leiberman. A Jewish Pokemon. Though skilled in many areas, this running mate's natural talent is flaming his opposition.
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: Leiberman! Flame attack, now!
| |
− |
| |
− | Leiberman: Leiber! *Suddenly adjusts his tie and speaks coherently* The members of the Doki Doki Panik Party are idealistic and young, despite their lack of unity in a platform.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Everyone gasps, and look oddly at Vorpal and Ditto.
| |
− |
| |
− | Random Member of the crowd: Hey! Y'know, the way HE puts it, they do sound like a shaky choice...
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− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Don't listen to him! He's condemning us with faint praise!
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− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *whispers to AlGore* It's working! Keep it up!
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Suddenly, another form breaks in through another wall. He is tall and slender, and wears a cowboy hat over a receding hairline. He has a needle nose and an overhanging lip. He speaks in a quick, nasal voice tinged with Texan.
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Howdy!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore and Pukecannon: *eyes pop in and out* NO! It's...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: It's me, Dubya! How's ever'buddy doin' tanight? Looks like we got us here a Pokemon battle huh? Well, I cain't pass this 'un up! *pulls out a Pokeball* Cheney! GO!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>In a flash of light, Cheney appears from the Pokeball*
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: Cheney! Cheney? Chey? Cheney.
| |
− |
| |
− | Veepedex: Cheney. An Experience Pokemon. This Pokemon is unique, in that no matter how experienced it becomes, it never evolves. It is easy to train and customize, because it apparently has no will of it's own.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: OK, THAT one was good... *chortle*
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: (To Gore) You put the crowd to sleep with a speech while me and Lieberman handle the rest o’ them.
| |
− |
| |
− | Al Gore: Right. Greetings everyone! Allow me to say a small speech...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: If I didn't know better I'd say they are trying to put the crowd to sleep!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: I'd say a few executions are in order?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Stay right where you are, Bushy!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: It's DUBYA!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Yeah, whatever.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: (To Ditto) We can't let them ruin OUR convention! Do something!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I'm thinking I'm thinking!
| |
− |
| |
− | Just then a female voice pierces the room.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: What is going on here?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Bingo. *Grins*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Who’s that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, I invited her.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Why?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Oh, my apologies, Vorpal. I forgot you two hadn't been formally introduced. Lady in Red, this is Vorpal, who is running for President. Vorpal, this is the Lady In Red, masked super-heroine.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Pleased to meet you.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Charmed, I'm sure.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>They shake hands*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: She recently appeared in "A Night In Rocketsville (I invented her, but I gave all rights to Saph)." She is to Team Rocket Omega what Tuxedo Mask is to the Sailor Scouts. She's wearing a flowing red ball gown, broad red hat, and carries a big red parasol. An elaborate masquerade ball mask covers the upper half of her face.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Uhhh, I can see her. She's standing right there. *Points*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Yeah, but your writer can't see her.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh, right.
| |
− |
| |
− | Yoshiman: Hey, has anyone seen Sapphire? She was just here a moment ago.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Nope. Where was I...? Oh yes, as I was saying, no one knows who the Lady in Red is underneath the mask.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: If her identity is a secret, how did you invite her?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I heard Sapphire was a good friend of hers, so I had Saph ask her.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Of course. But, back to my original question. Why?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well... to be absolutely honest... we couldn't afford to hire any other security. She's the best I could get on short notice.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ah.
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: The Lady in Red calmly turns to face the speechless intruders, her ballroom dress whirling dramatically around with her. She smiles coquettishly as she rests her opened parasol on her shoulder. Suddenly, she springs into action...
| |
− | She sneaks up behind Cheney.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: BOO!
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: !
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney falls over clutching his chest.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Augh! You gave Cheney a heart attack! Cheney return!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya runs off.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: That was a risky heart attack scheme, but it won't work with Joe. Leiberman! Censor attack!
| |
− |
| |
− | Leiberman: Leib!
| |
− |
| |
− | Leiberman takes out a censor sticker and places it on the Lady in Red's mouth.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: MMPH!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Ha ha ha!
| |
− |
| |
− | Weird Al comes out with a copy of Bad Hair Day.
| |
− |
| |
− | Leiberman has a heart attack, because of all the uncensored lyrics.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Ahh! Leiberman return!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore runs off.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Wow! Thanks for helping us out! Stay and dance!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...Don't mind if I do! *Dances off with her*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: harrumph.
| |
− |
| |
− | Meanwhile...
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': You fools done failed me again, huh? Well, like we say in Arkansas, if'n at first you cain't run over the possum, turn around and try again!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: What does that mean?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: It means he's gonna berate us for our incompetence, then send us out on the same mission AGAIN.
| |
− |
| |
− | Suddenly, a sharp, frosty voice crackles through the air...
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: I've had enough of your incompetence!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': OH NO!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: *his stoic face actually begins to show signs of terror* Oh my god.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *whispering to AlGore* Who is it?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: It's... HIS boss!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: You mean...?
| |
− |
| |
− | A cold wind blows through the Oval Office as a small yet stiff, sinister figure appears in the door.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Y-Yes Dear?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: This has gone on long enough!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': But... but... I'll do it next time! Like we say in Arkansas, thar's no use disbarrin' over spilt...
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Silence! You have failed for the last time. I hereby banish you to... Camp David!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Aw, shucks.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: *shoves Clintin' into a smaller chair, takes her place behind the desk, and lights a cigar* I shall now take over the Democratic Campaign efforts.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *to AlGore* Can she do that?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: What, have you been asleep for the past 8 years?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Actually, yes, I have. Remember, you guys had me frozen in a cryotube until you needed me as a spoiler.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Oh yeah. I forgot we just unfroze you a few months ago.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': *To Hellary* What can YOU DO that I CAIN'T?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary glares at him. Actual ice icicles form on her face. He cringes.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Oh MAN, she's exerting her powers over him!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: What is she doing to him?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Uhhh... ever notice that after the Gennifer Flowers incident, they never had any more children?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: She can do that just by LOOKING at him?!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: That's nothing compared to when she found out about Monica.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *cringe* Oh MAN.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Uh... I mean... "What do you plan to do?"
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: We shall do an all out smear campaign against them! We shall dig up everything about them!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': And whom will we get to do this?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: I have already thought of that.
| |
− |
| |
− | A door opens, and icy fog rolls out. Another form steps out, and a smaller chill fills the room.
| |
− |
| |
− | A smaller version of Hellary advances into the room. She has the same puckered mouth, same stiff hair, and same power blouse.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Chillsea!
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: *puts her pinky to the side of her mouth, with her palm sticking outward* I call her... Mini-Me...
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Leave them to me, mother. After spending my childhood in snobby prep schools and prestigious Ivy League Colleges, I can trash ANYONE'S reputation!
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: *Wiping a fond tear from her eye* Mommy's little girl...
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Mwahahaha!
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: No, dear, that's not the proper way for ladies to laugh evilly. Ladies go "Mm hm hm hm ha ha ha..."
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Sorry, mother.
| |
− |
| |
− | Both: Mm hm hm hm ha ha ha...!
| |
− |
| |
− | ---
| |
− |
| |
− | Peter Jennings: . . . and that was the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party Convention. We now go to our commentary . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Commentator #1: I think this convention stank like old cheese that's be left out for a month. Even AlGore's speech was better than this whole convention.
| |
− |
| |
− | C #2: I disagree, I found it much better than any convention I've ever seen.
| |
− |
| |
− | C #1: What do you mean!?!?!? . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | ~ Television turns off ~
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You always notice how someone turns off the TV when we don't want to type the whole story.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeah that’s weird.
| |
− |
| |
− | [Elsewhere...]
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: [muttering] Maybe we are going about this all wrong...
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: What plan have you formed now, my lord?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: [looking up] Huh? Nothing yet, still pondering. I mean, we have those crazy Clintin's, and now this hoky doky whatever party to deal with. We need more help.
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: Well. [Clears throat] I wasn't sure when I should mention this but...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: What is it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: We have a visitor. Supposedly well established in republican history. You know him.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Could it be that dear ol' dad has come through?
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: Well... not quite yet. I present to you...
| |
− |
| |
− | [Trumpets sound]
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: ...Former Vice president and my personal hero...
| |
− |
| |
− | [More trumpets blare]
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: ...Mr. Dan Quayle!
| |
− |
| |
− | [Thunderous applause is heard]
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: What's with all the dang noise?
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: [Whispering] it makes him feel good about himself.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Ah... I see. So my father has sent him... or he came on his own?
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: As far as I've heard.
| |
− |
| |
− | [Dan Quayle walks in]
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: Your father sent me to aid you in any way that I could against those hell raising Clintin's...and your newest rivals.
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: See! See! He's not all that bad! So tell us, Mr. Quayle sir, what plans have you and Mr. Bush formed for us?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: [thinking]//I need a worthy sidekick. I also need a good plan. I can't fit any executions in here though.//
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: Dubya! [Snaps fingers]
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Oh... sorry. I was just thinking.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Quayle and Cheney burst into hysterical laughter*
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: *stands up and clears his throat* Remember, I’m the brains behind the operation. And we have formed a plan.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: okay let's hear it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: It's quite simple, chap. it's called bargaining, deals, and espionage, trade offs...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: What?
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: Simple. If we get something that they want, they will give us something that we want. We get hostages; they pay us by surrendering the presidency! And mmrrr mrrrpph mmmphh
| |
− |
| |
− | [Quayle silenced him]
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: //the talkative fool could reveal too much...about the Boss's plan...Hope this one falls for it...//
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: What? But you know that would also be dangerous to my career! I will be a criminal!
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: Nonsense! You think EVERYONE'S on the up and up around here?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: //there is something he's not telling me...//
| |
− |
| |
− | [Elsewhere, in a dark room]
| |
− |
| |
− | Mysterious figure: I hope my son falls for it... my plan to control America...
| |
− |
| |
− | [Okay, now back to the Panik Party]
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: So what's next?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What a great convention! THAT should garner some support!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *Very mad* How will it garner support? It was so wild and controversial it wasn't even TELEVISED!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: No, but the unofficial, behind-the-scenes video is selling like HOTCAKES.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You mean, people want to see what went on, so they buy unofficial videos to watch privately without anyone knowing???!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Yep, and while other conventions doled out TONS of money to get publicity. WE'RE making $20 bucks a tape!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You, are a genius.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You're welcome. *wink*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, a rock crashes through the window*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: A note... It says...
| |
− |
| |
− | Deare MMEDDPers(e),
| |
− | Wee challengee youe toe ae debatee anywheree, anytimee, anyplacee. Youe wille faile.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What's with the spelling?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *Popping Eyes* Who... who wrote that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: Hmmm... this madman puts an extra 'e' at the end of every word... Hmmm... Oh my God! It could only be...
| |
− |
| |
− | Batman: *in a dramatic voice* Do you know what this means, Robin?
| |
− |
| |
− | Robin: *pounds his fist into his hand* Holy superfluous 'e' Batman! Our archenemy The Quayle is on the loose again!
| |
− |
| |
− | Both: To the Batmobile!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>They hop in and go to McDonalds*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I knew we shouldn't have invited them. Well, I'd better get ready for the debates.
| |
− |
| |
− | --Meanwhile, in Tallahassee Florida, in the Mansion of Governor Jeb Bush (or, as he is known, "Shrub")--
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: *in another room, on the telephone* Sure, big bro. I'll come help ya! *Hangs up* Well, dear, my older brother needs help, and he's called me to Texas to lend a hand.
| |
− |
| |
− | Wife: Dear? Are you sure this is a good idea? Aren't you worried people will say you're a... a... *bites her lip* ...Luigi?
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: *still in other room* Dear, I'm not, okay? Just because I helped my older brother launch his career years ago, and now he's nationally famous while I'm a little-known governor doesn't make me a Luigi. I just happen to be his quieter, lesser-known younger brother who is quite happy being out of the spotlight and going about his everyday duties.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Shrub steps out of his bedroom. He is wearing lime-green overalls and a blue shirt.
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Now, I'll be back as soon as my older brother no longer needs me. *kisses her* Mama mia.
| |
− |
| |
− | Wife: *confused* Wha- what did you just say?
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: I just said "Mama mia." Now, please, I'm gonna miss my flight. Is my ride ready?
| |
− |
| |
− | Wife: Yes, dear. It's outside, with a full tank of gas.
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Great.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Shrub goes out the door, and down the driveway. He pulls out on to the highway in a small Kart.
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: *puts on a green cap* Here we go.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Back at the Bush camp*
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: What! You've called Shrub?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Yes. My little brother can be of great help to me.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: But...what does he know that I don't?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: //lots of things...like how to spell// Well, let's say he's one of my staunch supporters.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: But I was the vice president! He's a simple governor! A Luigi!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: I'm a governor too.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: This is your career we're talking about!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: I'm sure 'Shrub' and I will be just fine. Tell dear old dad that I do not need his help now.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: //The boss isn't gonna like this...//
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: Dubya! Quayle is right, you know!
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: Don't worry, Cheney. I shall return. [exits]
| |
− |
| |
− | [later]
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: [on cell-phone] Boss. Bad news.
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: I heard. Don't worry about my sons. I have new plans. I want YOU to take over the campaign.
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: *whines* But...The public hates me!
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: Nonsense! You still have that debate. All I need you to do is convince my sons...
| |
− |
| |
− | [Elsewhere]
| |
− |
| |
− | The room is as cold as a meat freezer compartment in a storage room. But the occpants dont seem to mind it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Chillsea, have you found any information yet?
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Not yet mother, but there is loads more material. I'm curious to know more about that mysterious woman who showed up at the party.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: In the meantime I will send out our fools to investigate. They keep failing, but unfortunately we have no one else to send out... a pity really. [Presses a button on her desk] BILL!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Ye-eess dear?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Send out those bumbling idiots on a little expedition, now will you> It's a really simple task.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Ye-eess dear. Anything you want. [Runs back to his office]
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: The incompetence... [sighs]
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Al! Joe! Pat!
| |
− |
| |
− | Algore: Yes boss?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lieberman: Lieber! Lieber!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: You called?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': We're sending you out on another mission. Please PLEASE don't fail me again!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: What is it that you would like done, sir?
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea appears.
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: I want you to spy on these people. [Hands him a stack of papers and pictures] Bring back all the information you can. Got it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Ye-ess sir! Uh, ma'im.
| |
− |
| |
− | [Meanwhile]
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: So how do we prepare for this debate thingy?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: It may be a trap...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: The Quayle... wasn't he released from prison?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Worse. Former vice president. You do remember, don't you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: OH! [Slaps forehead] But why would HE want to meet with us?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: it seems to me that he's teamed up with Dubya. He must be pretty desperate. I almost feel sorry for him.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You WHAT?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: I said ALMOST. You know I'm supporting you guys. And I'm Democrat anyway. *pause* Well, sometimes...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Do you want to come along?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Sure, why not?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *mad* Ditto! I was going to ask her!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well? [Shrugs]
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodet: We find our two hometown boys in Paris, Texas, the site of the first debate. They are staying in a familiar motel preparing for the debates, none other than (takes a double take at the cue cards) Holiday Inn?!?!?!? Whose side are you on?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *sweatdrop* I told you to leave him behind.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *nervous laugh* heh, heh
| |
− |
| |
− | Weird Al: Okay, now when you're stuck say something about food. That always got me out of a sticky situation.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Thanks, Al. What does Merlin say?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto walks over to the Merlin machine and puts in a quarter.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You can never escape your past. Your lucky numbers are 21, 3 and 6.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: . . . 3 and 6 . . . there got it. Now to memorize it and then destroy the evidence.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal eats the paper.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: *anime sweatdrop* Did you have to do that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Not really. I just thought it'd be kinda dramatic.
| |
− |
| |
− | Everyone: *collective anime sweat drop*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What?!?!?
| |
− |
| |
− | On some news talk political show on Sunday that no one watches except or me [Vorpal] . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Announcer guy: And today with us is Vorpal who is the Presidential Nominee for the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panic Party.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: That's "Panik" with a "k".
| |
− |
| |
− | AG: *confused* How can you tell that I said it with a "c" and not a "k"?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Easy this is a written story.
| |
− |
| |
− | AG: *sweat* . . . uh, yeah, anyway, your new slogan is "Got Shotgun?" Let me show our viewers that commercial . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Announcer: Hm... For some reason the reel isn't projecting...
| |
− |
| |
− | [there is a black out at the TV station]
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hey!
| |
− |
| |
− | Announcer: This isn't good, this isn't good at all...
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Of course it isn't you fool! In fact, there's something that I'd like to say.
| |
− | [There is a loud saxophone blaring in the background]
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What is that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I don't like the sounds of that...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: [covering ears] I can't HEAR myself think!
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Mwahahaha!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Uh, Pat, I don't think our orders were to...
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: well, there's ways of getting information, and there are ways of getting information.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: *nervous laugh* Heh...heh... I figured that...I thought we were going to do it Madam Chillsea's way... you know... quietly...
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Them women don't know what they are talking about! We will handle it my way. Okay?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Whatever...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Oh, it's those fools who call themselves the Democratic Party. Well, except for Pat of course. I still don't understand why he's running with them.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: He probably figured out that running with 1% of the vote wasn't enough.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Hey! I heard that! And now we will avenge ourselves! [He whispers to gore] uh, you and Lieberman distract them, and try to get information out of them.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: *confused* I still don't understand some of your crazy notions...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: I guess it's time that I taught you another lesson, eh?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Lieberman is protected against heart attacks now!
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: Well I figured that a prank tactic would work on him....
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I think I will go run the commercial...
| |
− |
| |
− | [Elsewhere, two shadows are watching TV]
| |
− |
| |
− | Person#1: Look, mother, it's that Panik party promotion commercial.
| |
− |
| |
− | Person#2: That was never supposed to air... BILL!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | [The commercial runs on...]
| |
− |
| |
− | --commercial--
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Those lobbyists in Washington D.C. control every politician in Washington. You need someone who has had absolutely no experience to go up there and fight for you!
| |
− |
| |
− | As the narrator talks there are pictures of the Congress building zooming in and out at weird angles. Then Vorpal and Ditto appear shining shotguns and giving them to kids.
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Vorpal and Ditto have gone against every politician and wants to give every American a shotgun. They gone beyond Bush . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | A picture of Bush frowning now appears.
| |
− |
| |
− | . . . and want to make hangings and firing squads legal death sentences again against every politician in Washington. Don't you want someone to fight the politicians who aren't even concerned about your rights?
| |
− |
| |
− | The words "Got Shotgun?" appear and underneath in very small type - "Paid for by the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party of Toronto, Canada"
| |
− |
| |
− | --the commercial ends--
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Later on the five o clock news*
| |
− |
| |
− | Some Professor: If you look very closley at this corner of this frame of the ad, you can see the subliminal message that says "Vote Doki Doki Panik" *looks too closely at the ad* Must. . . vote. . . Doki Doki Panik. . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Important News Anchor: Let me see *snap* Must. . . vote. . . Doki Doki Panic. . .
| |
− |
| |
− | (They both walk away.)
| |
− |
| |
− | (Camera zooms up at the Message.)
| |
− |
| |
− | Entire News Crew: Must. . . vote. . . Doki Doki Panik. . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Hoards of employees march out of the building.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Not bad... Now, we're making another one!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Watch this one! *Pops in the tape*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Shows a bunch of kids sitting in front of a video game. On screen is Ganondorf, standing in front of the Princess. He is holding Link at arm's length, and is laughing. Link swings his sword, but just can't hit him*
| |
− |
| |
− | Boy: Rescue the Princess Link!
| |
− |
| |
− | Girl: C'mon, Mario! Jump!
| |
− |
| |
− | Boy: No that was a different one.
| |
− |
| |
− | Girl: Oh, okay!
| |
− |
| |
− | Boy: Why can't he rescue her?
| |
− |
| |
− | Mom: Kids, dinner!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>The little cretins get up and run to the table, leaving the game on. Link looks out and sees a cabinet in the living room*
| |
− |
| |
− | Link: Aha!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>He jumps out of the screen and bounds across the living room. He darts into a cabinet, and comes out holding a 12-gauge shotgun, wearing a pair of sunglasses. He levels the crosshairs at Ganondorf and pulls the trigger, blowing his head off. Link struts to the TV and goes up to the Princess.
| |
− |
| |
− | Announcer: "Got Shotgun?"
| |
− |
| |
− | (Screen goes black and the words "Got Shotgun?" appears, followed by "Paid for by the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party and the Committee to Elect Vorpal")
| |
− |
| |
− | Charlton Heston: I like it! *Fires shotgun into the air*
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: Today, the Dubya camp denied allegations of subliminal messages being implanted in campaign commercials.
| |
− |
| |
− | Connie Chung: In further news, polls indicate a sudden surge of support of Bush from the rat community. And now, we have a clip from a speech given by robotic candidate AlGore on the issue of school vouchers.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Shows clip. AlGore is addressing a large audience*
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: I am living proof that your children are not too dumb to go to St. Albans. Now, I need you to help me make sure that you can't afford to send them there.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Crowd cheers*
| |
− |
| |
− | Dan Rather: Also, we have just gotten word that Dubya's younger, lesser-known brother Shrub has agreed to lend his brother a hand. Now, there have been allegations that he is, in fact, a closet Luigi, but officially these are but rumors. The Florida Governor was unavailable for questioning, but a note sent to us that he dictated to his secretary read simply: "Here-a we go." We are not sure, as yet, what the actual meaning of this letter is, but we think it has something to do with the campaign. Peter?
| |
− |
| |
− | Peter: Thanks, Dan . . . In other political news, the Presidential Debates have started, no thanks to Dubya. The leaders in the polls, the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party, have announced that they will join every debate, but there is still some paperwork for them to due.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Will you turn that thing off?!?!?! We have to fill out this paper work!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But, but, he's the "Delightful Peter Jennings!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: TURN IT OFF!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Fine, you don't have to be such a snoot.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Let's see . . . party . . . Mega Mega Extreme Doki Dok -- Hey! There aren't enough of those little boxes!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Most likely first lady if you were elected . . . I'm not married and I don't have any relatives.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You could hire somebody.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I know I call Dolly! (Gets Telephone) Hey, Dolly! It's me, Vorpal!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: well?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: She hung up.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: All right, I'll do it for cryin out loud!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Really? Hmm, is your middle name really "in"?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: …Hey, why do YOU get the Lady in Red, huh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: C'mon, she's the only female member of the DDPP.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: There's always Monica.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...Not... a... chance.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: harumph.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Now that that's settled...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What now?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, we still have to meet the Quayle for the debate, right?
| |
− |
| |
− | [A brick is thrown through the window, aimed straight at the Lady in Red]
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hey watch out!
| |
− |
| |
− | She moves out of the way just as Ditto and Vorpal run over and smash into each other.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Look at all the pretty shotguns...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: [Blinks]
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Are you guys all right?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I think so...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What happened?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: Hm. Another note.
| |
− |
| |
− | Deare Foolse,
| |
− | Ife youe wishe toe take upe the offere one the debate.... the time ise noe toe acte... ore else... welle, youe ville see... muahahahae
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: That guy really needs a dictionary.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: How pathetic! Do you think it's really serious?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well... he thinks he is.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: Either way, I think it's a trap. If we don't show up, they obviously have a back up plan. If we do, then they will ambush us.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: And another thing. Where the heck are we supposed to meet these guys?
| |
− | [Another brick is thrown through the window]
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: [Yelling] Hey! Didn't your mothers ever tell you that it's wrong to throw heavy objects at windows?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Another note here, I see:
| |
− | The place? Hmme... howe aboute ae place called Rocketsvillee? Ohe, nevere minde... youe are outlawse there...hehehe... welle, there ise ae neutrale islande thate we knowe ofe... ife youe decide toe come thene ite wille be alle-expensese paide! We awaite youre response....
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: I knew it was a set up!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hm.. an island...all expenses paid...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What are you doing?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, I'm game! I think...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: What about the Clinton's? You have to remember that we are running an important thing here and this does seem suspicious...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Then some of us will stay and some go.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Think they will send your tickets by brick?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Hold on. Who's staying and who's going? I for one don't think we should trust it..
| |
− |
| |
− | [meanwhile..]
| |
− |
| |
− | [a phone conversation]
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 1: Hey boss! They could be falling for it!
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 2: [on cell-phone]: Good. Tell me when they take the bait.
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 1: Ah, but Boss, that may be a little problem Sir. Some of them are getting suspicious.
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 2: Eh? Well, take care of them then! And make sure they get on that plane...
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 1: I'll do my best sir.
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 2: You better. I'm counting on you to do this.
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 1: but what about-?
| |
− |
| |
− | Person 2: Silence! Call me back when you have completed what I asked of you. Got it?
| |
− |
| |
− | [back to ddp hq]
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But first..
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: what is it now?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Before I go I'm gonna see what Merlin says.
| |
− |
| |
− | But, suddenly there is a knock at the door.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I'll get it! (opens door) Hey, what's with the ski mask? He -- mph!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Vorpal? Who was it? Vorp? All well. Hey, Red? Wanna play Golden-eye again?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Yeah, but don't call me Red!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Yes, ma'am! *wink*
| |
− |
| |
− | (several hours later on TV)
| |
− |
| |
− | Dan Rather: We are here tonight at the 2000 Presidential Debate, where five candidates will be drilled, billed, and any other words that rhyme. Yes, the presidential combatants are:
| |
− |
| |
− | George W. Bush of the Republican Party
| |
− | Al Gore of the Democratic Party
| |
− | Pat Buchanan of the Reform Party
| |
− | Ralph Nader of the Green Party
| |
− | And
| |
− | Vorpal of the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party
| |
− | With Neo Vej as debate moderator.
| |
− | Stay tuned for the most exiting debate of the millenium!
| |
− | (goes to commercial)
| |
− |
| |
− | Backstage-
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Okay, are you ready Vorpal? . . . Vorpal?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Where is he?
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodet: He was kidnapped about two posts ago.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US????
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodet: You were staying at the Holiday Inn.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Great, he'll be late for the debates . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *getting out of limo* Hey, that was keen! ha ha! See ya round!
| |
− | Limo drives off.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WERE YOU KIDNAPPED???
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: No, ha ha, no. . . you see, Mr. P just gave me a ride to the new comedy that's showing!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What was it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I forgot. Hey! Almost time for the debates!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: They're over Vorpal.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What?! I'm not that late! I was supposed to be here... *checks his watch* Whoa. Two days ago..?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, no worries. I just called up the Democratic and Republican Headquarters. I've arranged for a "Special" Extra Debate with Dubya and AlGore.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Terrific! But... how'd you swing that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...I let them design the format.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh. What's the format? Face-to-face? Podiums?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well...
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Suddenly, the scene switches. Vorpal is standing in a wire mesh corner, with tons of lights and crowds roaring.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: CAGE MATCH?~!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *ringside* It's all they'd agree to.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...
| |
− |
| |
− | Jay Resop: It's Death-match time!
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: Again? Is this Peach vs. Daisy vs. Pauline?
| |
− |
| |
− | Jay: Nope! This time, it's political!
| |
− |
| |
− | And in the purple corner... Wearing the purple and black body armor, Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party Candidate, Vorpal, "The Panik"... er... Vorpal!
| |
− | *crowd cheers*
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: ...and in the Earth-tone corner, the man with the hair that could deflect bullets, Albert "Al" Gooooore!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: I'm gonna break you like a tie vote in the Senate!
| |
− |
| |
− | Resop: ...And in the Blue Corner... Wearing the Cowboy hat and Boots, George "The Executioner" Buuuush!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Fuzzy math! Fuzzy math!
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: *ringside* Not yet, Governor, not yet.
| |
− |
| |
− | Resop: Tonight, we bring you a historical political debate. The candidate's will field questions while dishing out punishment! Truly, this will be the most exciting public face off ever! And now... LLLLLLLet's Get Ready to Ruuummmmmmmmbllllllllle!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>ding*
| |
− |
| |
− | Audience member: Mr. Vice President, how do you feel about abortion?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Pro-Choice. Allow me to demonstrate. Dubya, pick a hand.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Uh, left.
| |
− |
| |
− | WHAM!
| |
− |
| |
− | AM: I see.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: All right, that's it. Time to pack your scrawny butt back to St. Albans!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Bring it on, you Grammar-Grinding greenhorn!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Hey! Look! There's a crying Indian!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Where? *turns around*
| |
− |
| |
− | WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: This' how we settle thangs in Texas!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Kicks AlGore*
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Ouch! Watch the spurs!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Now, looks like it's time for the "Death Penalty!"
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, AlGore flips over*
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Here's a little something I learned at the Sierra Club!
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>grabs Dubya in a hip-lock and throws him over*
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Take THIS!
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Grabs Dubya in a chokehold and begins pressing into his neck*
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Grrr. Did you "invent" that one too?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Nope. I learned it while being held in a Vietnamese Prison Camp.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Was that before or after you were under fire that never existed? Or when your mom sang you to sleep with a song that wasn't written until 20 years later?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Oh yeah, I forgot. *releases him*
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Now, allow me to demonstrate my special move!
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>grabs AlGore in a headlock*
| |
− |
| |
− | It's called, "The Social Security Savings Hold!" I'll let you out in 20 years!
| |
− |
| |
− | Jay: Uh-oh looks like Al Gore's in trouble.
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: Prison camp. Does that mean he was a P.O.-Dubya?
| |
− |
| |
− | Jay: …
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>AlGore slips out of his headlock. Dubya looks at him amazed.*
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: How- how did you get out?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Simple! Your plan only works for the top 1% tax bracket!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: D'oh.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Meanwhile, back in the purple corner*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, Vorp? Shouldn't you be doin' somethin?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Nah. They're doin' just fine.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Good show.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Meanwhile, outside the Debates, we see Ralph Natureboy arguing with a guard. He is all scrawny but wearing a green spandex costume with an "N" on it, with a green mask and green tights*
| |
− |
| |
− | Natureboy: But, I got a ticket!
| |
− |
| |
− | Guard: Awww. Did a Tree Spirit give it to you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Natureboy: ...And what if it did?
| |
− |
| |
− | Guard: Beat it, nutcase.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal suddenly has the wild idea to actually do something!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Wait, no I didn't! I'm gonna stay right here!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Oh, no you're not!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto takes a red-hot poker and jabs Vorpal with it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeouch!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal jumps directly into the back of AlGore. They both collapse to the floor.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: As we say in Texas, "The sky's the limit!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya climbs the cage and then body slams Vorpal and AlGore.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Are you sure they only said it in Texas, because I've heard it in Missouri, too.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: . . . Shut up!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya kicks Vorpal in the face.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I thought you said you weren't going to use personal attacks!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: He did, but I don't lie like that.
| |
− |
| |
− | Orlando: AlGore is floating in the air!
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Hey! What’s happening to me?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ha, You're full of hot air!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: bad pun. -.-()
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: So?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: well, I . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: IT DOESN'T MATTER!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Hey, the Rock's a Republican! (he really is) Only I can use that!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: It doesn't matter if the Rock's a Republican, if you smeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, what the Vorp is cookin'!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: Vorpal throws Dubya into AlGore and they both fall to the floor.
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: Oh what's this? It's the People's Elbow performed by what may be the People's Choice!
| |
− |
| |
− | Orlando: *rolls eyes* Hilarious.
| |
− |
| |
− | Poser: ...
| |
− |
| |
− | The crowd cheers!
| |
− |
| |
− | Off stage--
| |
− | That Delightful Peter Jennings: So, How do you like the outcome of that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dan Rather: I don't know, Peter, it didn't seem to me that any of them were really that aggressive. I don't think this changed many people's minds.
| |
− |
| |
− | Koki Roberts (or whatever): I agree with Dan, not much time was spent on the issues that matter to what the polls say that American's say is important.
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: Now, we go to our group of undecided voters and see their reactions.
| |
− | The screen shows a whole bunch of people shouting: Vorpal! Vorpal! Vorpal! Vorpal!
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: Yep, it didn't change anybody's mind.
| |
− |
| |
− | In the locker room--
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You did great out there!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I did? Well, now it's time to take my message out to the people.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: When have you ever done that?
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Chapter 12: Got Platform?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What did you say?!?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I wanna take my message to the people.
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>SLAP!*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Thanks, man... It's the climate of Washington, I guess... It gets into yer blood, makes you wanna do weird things...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Actually, I don't think it may be a bad idea. He couldn't do any worse than those other wing nuts.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: All right, all right...
| |
− |
| |
− | ~Later~
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: ...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: C'mon, Tom! Just do the seg-way!
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: Forget it. I done been stabbed in the back.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Fine, fine. You can include a plug for Motel 6.
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: *grins* ...And so, Vorpal set out on that long, winding, dusty Campaign Trail, with nothin' but a few two-by-fours of imagination, and the nails of determination, with which to build a platform of his very own, from which to spread his message from the purple mountains to the shinin' sea. For far beyond the hustle n' bustle of the big city, out beyond the wind dancin' o'er the amber waves of grain, his mind's eye beheld a nation of greatness, with freedom to all, a buck for anyone with a strong back, and places like the Hotel 6, where we'll leave the light on fer 'ya.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Man, is that guy ever eloquent.
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodett: And so, with the sun reachin' the midpoint of it's daily pilgrimage to the West, that young American forced a lump of fear to roll down as his throat, as he faces the firin' squad of questions from his loyal citizens...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: So, are we ready for this rally?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Some guy named Neovejitto wanted to handle it. So I figure I'll let him.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: OK. What else are you gonna do to "reach out?"
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, people really responded well to that book about Abe Lincoln, "With Malice Toward None," so I put out my own autobiography.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Holds up a copy of a book with a picture of the Lincoln Memorial, with his face superimposed over Lincoln's, and the title "With Malice Toward Pretty Much Everybody."
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: *running up* Hey, Vorp. The results are in from the surveys we put out asking voters about you.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Great, what does it say?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Well, 36% find the black body armor and glowing purple sword to be threatening. They're concerned you’re not sending out an image of 'diplomacy.'
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Maybe I should switch to Earth Tones?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: *roll eyes*
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: BILL!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Yes dear?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Could you explain to me why we are down in the polls?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Well you see, it's the public. They rather go for cankerous teens who would rather run the country into the ground than a bunch of sensible adults as we are, dear.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: ...
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Mother dear, I'm afraid I can't get much on their backgrounds. Ditto is merely a shape-changer as far as these records go, Vorpal doesn't have much posted about himself... unless we can get that auto biography of his... and the Lady In Red who is usually seen with them is just a big question-mark to me.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': A red question mark?
| |
− |
| |
− | Both Hellary and Chillsea take turns smacking Bill.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Yowza, that hurt..
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: I have also learned that Monica Lewinsky has joined up with their campaigning.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: BILL!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Don't hurt me...
| |
− |
| |
− | :-:-:-:-:-:
| |
− |
| |
− | Booming Voice: Fools! Incompetents!
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: [in a small voice] 'Twasn't my fault sir..
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: It seems our plans have run amuck...
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: Obviously you aren't working hard enough. Now Dubya and Scrub think they can handle this all on their own, but Dubya wouldn't be anywhere without my financial guidance and support. Make sure that he realizes that.
| |
− |
| |
− | Cheney: [to Quayle] He's threatening us. Is that good or bad?
| |
− |
| |
− | Quayle: We won't fail you again sir. [To Cheney] As a vice president you have to be sure to talk sense into your running mate... since you are the brains behind this operation.
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: [muttering to himself] I am surrounded by idiots...
| |
− |
| |
− | :-:-:-:-:-:
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Ready to start the polls?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Do you think we can handle the questions?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: *shrug* It's your campaign. Whatever image you want to convey to the press is your own choice.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: let's see, why don't we start with that person wa-ay in the back?
| |
− |
| |
− | Audience Member: Vorpal, how will you handle special interest groups?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I love special interest groups. Especially pitting them against one another. You should see what happens when you put the "Homeless" groups in the same room with the "Wilderness" groups!
| |
− |
| |
− | Audience: *uproarious laughter*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Anyone else?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: There's another one.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ask away!
| |
− |
| |
− | Random male: How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center in a tootsie pop?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Uhhh…1,000,000,000. Next!
| |
− |
| |
− | Random male: Hey, thanks!
| |
− |
| |
− | Random female: Are you planning to enforce gun control laws in schools?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Absolutely NOT! I believe that our founding fathers had a clear vision when they made the Constitution. Everyone should have a gun! And two for those that go to dangerous places such as schools and public libraries!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...and Cafeterias!
| |
− |
| |
− | ["Of course the Forefathers meant we could have assault rifles. In their day, all guns were assault rifles."
| |
− | -P.J. O'Rourke, Parliament of ******, 1991]
| |
− |
| |
− | Audience member: How do you feel about the tax rate?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: To taxes, I say we don't have enough! I believe that you should be taxed a whole bunch so I can make a lot of money!
| |
− |
| |
− | Random Audience Member: Didn't you know that the taxes don't become the President's money?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: They don't?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *whispering in Vorpal's ear* The next President will only make $400,000 a year after Clinton gets out of office.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: (ala Homer Simpson) Woohoo!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't you know that a lot more people will make a lot more than you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeah, but it's more than I make now.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Good point. C'mon. Anyone?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>tumbleweed bounces by*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I guess the voters don't care about the issues.
| |
− |
| |
− | Random Person: How much money will you use to fight poverty?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: NONE! I think we give TOO MUCH to poverty! And for what? Huh? Why do we give so much to poverty? I mean, what has poverty ever done for us, huh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Another Random Person: So, how do you intend to fix the school system?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: The same way he intends to beef up the military.
| |
− |
| |
− | SSG: Points to a lazy, bored-looking kid in the audience.
| |
− | Ditto: The way I see it, the problem here is motivation. *evil grin* The way it works is, any student who can't maintain a 'C' average... will automatically be inducted into the U.S. Armed Services!
| |
− |
| |
− | SSG: Suddenly, a scary lookin' military guy with sunglasses and a broad hat appears behind the boy and stares grimly down on him.
| |
− |
| |
− | Sarge: You ever wondered what it feels like to be a stain on someone's shoe, boy?
| |
− |
| |
− | Kid: GULP! *runs off to do homework*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...And there you have it! Instant motivation!
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice#1: Enough of this idiocy!
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice#2: Yeah!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Saywhathuh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Looks like we have visitors...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *yawn* It's Puke and Gore again. Don't they ever give up?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Apparently not.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: Just "friendly" competition, folks.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Whatever.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: We're just here because we noticed there were some inconsistencies with your backgrounds.
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: How are the people to trust you if they don't know anything about you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Where are you trying to go with this?
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: For example..
| |
− |
| |
− | Puke: Vorpal, killed the President of Norway!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Everyone: GASP!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: heh, heh, It. . . it was a thing I. . . uh . . . did in my youth, yeah! But, I've learned from those mistakes.
| |
− |
| |
− | Algore: You're only 15 and yet you’re running for President, when you have to be 35!
| |
− | Ditto: You have no proof!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Puke: You're real name is Stryke!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Noooooooo!!!!! . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: So you've checked up on them Cap'n Rapheal the Raven?
| |
− |
| |
− | Rapheal: Of course... here are the stats *hands over paper*
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Hmm.. yes.. ahh... WHAT!? Vorpal is running!? With Ditto!?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: That is right my liege...
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Gah! I'll overcome this, I may be a sword, but I CAN beat that 15-year-old thwhimp!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dactyl: *snickers* You need a Campaign Manager first!
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Yes... but who would do that for the new Union of Birdocrats?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Not one of us, we are but minions and NPC's.
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Yes... I shall begin searching for a campaign manager! And this time I shall triumph over that rip-off Vorpal!
| |
− |
| |
− | Rapheal: Bravo, my liege! But the crowd likes you to blab about how your going to make their life good.
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: How's this... Citizens...Ladies, Gentleman, Boys, Girls, and those in between. I come to you not as a man, and not as a sword, but as a voice. A voice that cries out for peace and justice. I admit I do desire power and wish to see Vorpal flattened like a pancake. But besides that, working together we can make this a country... a country above all countries! For as soon as my election is won, The United States of A-- A-- (Hey Dodo what was it again?)
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Asia I believe...
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Unites States of Asia shall rise above the clouds and henceforth be called New Canada!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Was it not Birdopolis, sire?
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Birdopolois! Where all citizens will be able to fly, and the lower 'Earthbounds' shall be but our slaves! Poverty shall be no more, sports video games shall be no more, and purchasing ‘brains’ at your local Fingerhut shall perform education! Are YOU WITH ME!?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Bravo! Masterfully done! And when you tell them you implanted bombs in their heads that will explode if they don’t vote for you, your sure to win!
| |
− |
| |
− | Rapheal: Ahh! If only I had but a portion of your genius, Sire...
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: *cue evil laughter*
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | That Delightful Peter Jennings: And so, Vorpal and Ditto have dropped drastically in the polls since Algore and Pukecannon disgraced their names. In other news, a sword named Masamune has announced his run for Presidency. It's much too late for him to get on the polls, but he's asking for everyone's write in vote. His biggest promise: No more sports video games!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clinton: (turning off TV) what?!?!?!?!? Now he's gonna win for sure!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Masamune: Ahh! This is all to perfect! We are scaling the popularity charts!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Behold our new commercial!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: *Turns to TV*
| |
− |
| |
− | Commercial---
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Who do you want as the leader of our nation, their are plenty of good choices... save one! Vorpal, behold... *screen changes to reenactments of Vorpal doing a bunch of bad things* Do you really want a 15 year old brat to rule this country?
| |
− |
| |
− | Woman 1: That Vorpal is a no good scumbag! Back in the city he used to be a mayor at, I was robbed in front of a hundred witnesses and he didn't do a thing!
| |
− |
| |
− | Man 1: That Vorpal snitched me out of ten grand!
| |
− |
| |
− | Woman 2: Vorpal isn't that bad...
| |
− |
| |
− | Man 2: Vorpal is a scoundrel that doesnt even use his real name!
| |
− |
| |
− | Kid 1: Umm.. Vorpal is a doopie-head!
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Vote for Masamune! He cares about your needs, so give a hoot, or he'll give you.. *woman 2 suddenly explodes* the boot!
| |
− |
| |
− | Another Voice: Masamune... a darn nice guy!
| |
− |
| |
− | Kid: And Vorpal is a doopie-head!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Vorpal: Gah! His commercial ads are on all the TVs! And he's spreading false rumors and blowing up my supporters!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't worry, I've been working on a campaign plan... follow me!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Whoa, dude, you've returned!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I came as soon as I heard. Our old archenemy Masamune, eh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeah. He's just running because he hates my guts.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What's with you two anyway? Why does he hate you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, one of the Vorpal Sword's previous owners was the one who sealed him up in the Masamune. That, and I never let him play "sheriff" when we played "Cowboys and Rustlers." Where were you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I assumed that with our incredible efforts, we'd be shoe-ins for Nov. 7th, so I decided to kick back and relax on my private island.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You have a private island?!?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hey, can't tell ya everything. Anyway, I've had something in the works.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Great. We can always rely upon you. What'd you do?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I thought for a while. I figured out why people don't care about political speeches.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...You see, speeches are not only lies, they are the most tepid kind of lie. Basically, "I'll balance the budget, sort of..." "I won't raise taxes, if I can help it..." Snoozeville.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Uh-huh.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...So, I came up with... an INTERESTING SPEECH! Guaranteed to grab their attention! : *hands him the paper*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *runs his eyes over it* Hmmm... MAN, THIS IS GOOOD!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I thought you'd like it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Quickly, I must go and get this to the greatest number of people possible!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...TO MADISON SQUARE GARDENS!
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>they run off*
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodett: Later... in the center of New York City, we see Masamune schmoozing with a huge crowd of rich, important people. He is holding a huge slice of New Yorker pizza and wearin' a T-Shirt that says "It's A Sword Thang."
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Yeah! Elect me!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, a long black limo covered with ? Marks rolls up. Out steps Vorpal, and after him, Ditto. They go to the center of MSG and set up a soapbox*
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Curses! What are they doing here?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Kickin' your handle, you over grown kitchen-knife. *pulls out an extension cord, hooks one end up to Vorpal's mike, and plugs in the other end* Vorp, you're on.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ahem. Is this thing on? Is thi- SSSSCCCCRRRREEEEECH- esting, one two.
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Ditto gives him the thumbs up*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ahem. Ladies and gentlemen, recently, your ears have been assaulted by the battle cries of a liar! A certain sword who shall remain nameless, *jerks his head toward Masamune* has been claiming things, he CAN'T deliver! Sure, we all want to fly, but HE can't deliver it! HE claims to have expertise? He should stick to spreadin' butter on TOAST!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>crowd chuckles. More and more of Masamune's followers turn to listen to Vorpal*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Why, elect yours truly to Capitol Hill, and I'll ship the swag home in boxcar lots. You'll be paving the roads with bacon around here when I am done shoveling out the pork barrel. There'll be government jobs for your dog! Leave your garden hose running for fifteen minutes, and I'll have the Department of Transportation build an eight-lane suspension bridge across the puddle! Show me a wet basement, and I'll get you a naval base and make your Roto-Rooter man an admiral of the fleet! There’ll be farm subsidies for every geranium you've got in a pot, defense contracts for Junior's spitballs, and free day care for Sister's dolls.*
| |
− |
| |
− | Crowd: Vor-PAL! Vor-PAL! Vor-PAL!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: *jaw drops, stands, slack-jawed, while the cheese on his pizza plops to the sidewalk* Gott in himmel.
| |
− |
| |
− | By now, Masamune has but one follower...
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Heh! So much for them... *clicks a button and the people explode into a nasty mess of censored stuff* You thought I was kidding huh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal and Ditto: *jaws drop* I... don’t believe it!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: I used to be an extremely powerful Majick before being stuck in the sword! Now... Let this be a lesson to anyone else that should dare oppose me, I am your rightful leader!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: We can't out-technologize him...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Outmagic either... if MagiKoopa and Yoshiman were here it'd be no problem. So you and me shall use our skills, outcool and outsmart!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But will it work? People value their life over their popularity or knowledge...
| |
− | By now, Masamune has gained a crowd four times the size he had who are now doing exactly as he does.
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Yes my children... following me is the only way to live!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Right! Coolness and smartness! When all else fails, rely on our strengths.
| |
− | We'll outcool him!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Actually, Vorp, I think it would be better to try to outsmart him first.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: You got plan?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I ALWAYS have a plan. I've been working on a solution to the brain-bomb problem.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But, we just learned about the brain-bomb.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't question me.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Sorry.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Ditto takes out a remote control and presses a button. Suddenly, the Dittomobile stretches out and sprouts wings and jet engines. A crimson-carpeted stairway leads up into the now Ditto Learjet. They climb in and take their seats in the spacious interior.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Nice. Where are we going?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I want to show you my idea on my private island.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I gotta see this private island. What's your idea?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: All in good time, Vorp. Right now, we have to go to a cut scene showing our long-neglected enemies. It'll be over by the time we get there.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Awww. We can't even see the cut scene! What'll we do till then?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: We'll watch the in-flight movie.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Pushing buttons on his armrest, Ditto dims the lights and pulls down a screen. A projector rises up out of the floor in the middle of the plane.
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh! What is it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Uhhh... *checks the box* ALL RIGHT! "Princess Mononoke!!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...I'll never understand your taste in movies...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: SShh! It's starting!
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodett: Meanwhile, in another part of the country, we visit a shadowy figure, arranging his backroom plans. Outside the window is a view of the Texas oilfields. On the wall is a diploma from Yale. Beside it is a picture of young Dubya. The words, "To dad, frum Jorge." are written in crayon on it. It is dated "1992." Sitting in a leather chair, sits a sinister old man with a peculiar, jerky way of talking, a freakish grin, and a habit of putting the accent on the wrong syllables. He is cloaked in shadow, save for his glinting glasses.
| |
− |
| |
− | Man: Hmmm. Those boys just can't get it right. If my dimwit son bungles this one, I'll never regain control of the country, and exact my revenge against those upstart Clintin's for disgracing me back in '92! Looks like those boys need some help from... their OLD MAN! Hahaha! BAR!
| |
− |
| |
− | Barbara: Yes, dear?
| |
− |
| |
− | The Old Man: The polls aren't lookin' so well. Looks like I'm gonna have to go down there and give Junior a hand. It's the only way for me to regain control of the country, and exact my revenge against those Clintin's for disgracing me in '92. Just, tell me one thing... Are those cookies I smell baking?
| |
− |
| |
− | Bar: Yes, George. Oatmeal cookies.
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: Oh! Bring me a couple, will ya?
| |
− |
| |
− | Bar: No, dear. You'll spoil your dinner.
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: What's for dinner?
| |
− |
| |
− | Bar: Broccoli.
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: Read, my, lips! I hate broccoli!
| |
− |
| |
− | Bar: Oh, George, give it up. It didn't work in '92, it won't work now.
| |
− |
| |
− | The Old Man: Forget it. I'll be on my way.
| |
− |
| |
− | Bar: Wipe your cowboy boots on the way out! No tracking oil on my nice clean floors!
| |
− |
| |
− | The Old Man: *sigh* Yes, dear. *puts on a cowboy hat and boots, and stalks out*
| |
− |
| |
− | Meanwhile, in Republican Committee Headquarters...
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: I got news, bro. The old man's on his way!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Quick! Hide the video games! Make it look like I'm studying! Awww, man! He's gonna killify me!
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: You haven't changed since college.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Suddenly, the door is kicked open by a pair of cowboy boots. A tall, gangly old man steps in and sets his suitcases down. It's none other than... George Herbert Walker Bush! <nowiki>*</nowiki>Melodramatic Music*
| |
− |
| |
− | The Old Man: Well, aren't you boys gonna say hello to your Old Man?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya and Shrub: Hi, dad.
| |
− |
| |
− | The Old Man: ‘Attaboy! Now, let's get down to business! Mwa ha ha ha!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Narrator: While the bad guys discuss their plan, we now join Vorpal and Ditto, who are now landing on a lush, tropical island. In the center is a huge estate. Ditto and Vorpal leave the plane.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *sniff* It's so sad... they'll never be together! *sniff*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: WOW! What a neat place! Now, tell me your plan.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Okay, okay. Anyway, I asked myself, "How did Masamune get armed, microscopic bombs into people?" And I figured it out! Through the water supply!
| |
− | Vorpal: ...Of course!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: So, I have developed a microscopic device that we can ALSO slip into people, that will send out signals that will JAM any incoming signals to detonate the bombs, thus rendering them useless!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ditto, you're a genius.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You have no idea... Now, to inject them into the populace! To HOOVER DAM!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Awww, man. I got jet lag. I wanna see this tropical island.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't question me, Vorp.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Sorry. What's the movie this time?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: "Kikki's Delivery Service!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: ...
| |
− |
| |
− | Bodett: And so, those resourceful young boys flew back across the country, and released billions and billions of those tiny, life-saving devices into the water supply, much to the enemy's dismay...
| |
− |
| |
− | Back in Masa's HQ...
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Hey! Vorpal's rising in the polls again! Looks like I'm gonna have to decimate some more of the populace!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>presses the button*
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Huh? Nothing's happening. *pushes buttons randomly* What's going on?
| |
− |
| |
− | Birdo: I don't know, boss. All I know is, I haven't had a drink of water in hours. *gets up*
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Why aren't they working? There's one button I haven't tried...
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: In desperation, Masamune tries the last button. Suddenly, Birdo, who is just about to take a drink, goes up in a ball of fire.
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Ooops! Uh... someone get a dustpan and clean that up...
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ugg! Letmeoutletmeout!!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You don't like Kikki?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *shudder* Don't mention that name again.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Fine. You can pick the movie next time.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Woohoo! UHF or Super Mario Bros or ooo Star Wars!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Get a hold of yourself! We're still behind Natureboy Nader!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorp: Not Nader! Quick to the Merlin Machine!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto and Vorpal rush to Merlin (who if you remember was originally employed by the Green Party)
| |
− |
| |
− | Merlin: Beware of Scorpio and Gemini. Your Lucky Numbers are 13, 26 and 5
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hmm, but what does that mean?
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: You sure this will work?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Of course... blowing America off the face of the planet then blaming it on Vorpal is sure to get you Presidency!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: ....I'll do it!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: That I have to eat this piece of paper?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: No...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Whatever. I should take these words into consideration, you think?
| |
− |
| |
− | [Lightening crashes nearby. Ditto and Vorpal turn around to face none other than the Lady in Red, wearing her usual red ball-gown, rubies sparkling at her earlobes. She waves the umbrella before once again closing it.]
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Just needed to power up. I was a bit startled to learn that you left without me...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, after Masa came we figured that we needed to go over our..um... strategies.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Precisely.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Aren't you going to fill me in?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: If it goes against your ethics, will you still be interested?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto smacks Vorpal and then turns with a forced smile to the Lady in Red.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't mind him. I will be more than delighted to fill you in. But now, the movie awaits.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But Ditto--
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Meanwhile...
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': That done it Al... we're in trouble for sure this time...
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: We didn't know that a new party was going to come up out of nowhere!
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Isn't that against the rules?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': I don't think we're playing with rules. How do you expect to win the presidency if you keep on-a messin' up?
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: The boss-lady won't like this...
| |
− |
| |
− | The door swings open, billowing out white smoke, the kind that appears in the air on a cold, winter's day.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Chillsea's sure been practicing...
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Father, I must warn you that Mom isn't the least bit pleased.
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: We tried the best we could, we gave you all of that knowledge on Vorpal-
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: We don't have enough on his running mate, that Ditto character, or that weirdo-lady who hangs around with them. You're supposed to be my spies.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Chillsea darlin', they're doing to best they could.
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: I understand Daddy. But I can't condone any of your incompetence to Mother anymore than you can yourself. And when she comes in here everything will freeze over, so I think you ought to get yourselves some coats.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: *pouts* If I wasn’t so strong I would destroy America myself but I might destroy the world on accident...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Exactly, so we must use the machine!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Can’t I just destroy a little country... like Alaska?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Alaska is part of America and not a country. And no! You cant be the ruler of the America if you blow the world up on accident!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Awww...
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: It's all so perfect! My dear brother shall attempt to takeover, and when I deflect the puny blast with a strand of hair, then I shall become the world hero and then they'll make me leader!
| |
− |
| |
− | ???: Yesss Master... it iss perfect! With thisss kind of sssupport we are sssure to win! Everyone lovesss a hero!
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: Exactly...
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: That's all good and well, but don’t fail me Murasame! If Vorpal, Masa or that Gore fella win...
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: No problem, they’re walking right into our trap!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya.: Hehe! And I'll be fake President!
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: *wacks Dubya* Quiet, were having an adult conversation here!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: This is all so confusing!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: This Kikki's Delivery Service, I've watched 3 times already and I still don't understand it!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: How can someone not understand such a masterpiece?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I say we watch Mortal Kombat or maybe Street Fighter or even the Pokémon Movie, just not this again!!!!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Chill out.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I'm hungry. You got anymore Subway cards?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: heh heh, umm no.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: WHAT!?!?!?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well. i was a little hungry and I . . .
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: We had at least 75 yesterday!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Okay so maybe I was a little more than a little hungry.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: That's great. Where are we going to get the money to eat?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto and the Lady in Red: The Social Security Lock Box!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Of course! All we have to do is sneak into the White House and get into Algore's Lock box. But how?
| |
− |
| |
− | Sgt. Flutter: Here and accounted for, sir!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: All right! Let's start plannin'!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | Narrator: Out in Alaska,
| |
− | All covered with snows
| |
− | there appeared a Bush-ler,
| |
− | Whom everyone knows.
| |
− |
| |
− | And he planned to build a derrick
| |
− | To pump up the oil
| |
− | While darkening the sky
| |
− | And polluting the soil.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Suddenly, out of a nearby stump, a figure appears.
| |
− | With a long, sallow cheek,
| |
− | And long, pointy ears.
| |
− | He's shortish,
| |
− | and brownish,
| |
− | and oldish,
| |
− | and mossy,
| |
− | and speaks in a voice,
| |
− | that's sharpish and bossy.
| |
− |
| |
− | Figure: "Mister!" cried he, with a sawdusty sneeze,
| |
− | I am Ralph Nader, I speak for the trees!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: *smacks himself in forehead* Oh no. Not him again.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: "Look you" he cried, " I'm trying to drill!
| |
− | This is my big chance,
| |
− | To score a cool mil!
| |
− |
| |
− | Besides" he added, "This will do us all good!
| |
− | I promise it'll help us more than that OPEC would!
| |
− | I'll start when I'm elected, that's why I'll defend it,
| |
− | I say because we shouldn't be Middle-Eastern Dependent!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Nader: "I am the Nader! I speak for the trees!
| |
− | Please stop your drilling, young man if you please!"
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: "Your argument has no credence,
| |
− | In lands such as these,
| |
− | For if you look all about you,
| |
− | You'll see there aren't any trees!"
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal leans out the window of Doki Doki Panik HQ and yells down to the dormant Masamune.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hey, Masa!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: What do you want?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What was your political party? And animal?
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Oh umm... Birdocrats! And our animal is... the… the Falcon!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Wow, so ironic....
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: I make up as I go, better than elephants and donkeys...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hmm that was quite an adventure we had, sneaking into the White House.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Too, bad no one out there gets to hear about it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Stupid November Election!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Oh snap! The elections are right around the corner!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: No kidding.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: This is serious.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I think it's time to activate your new idea, Ditto.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: As much as I am against going against the sake of the law and all that, well, it doesn't seem we have much choice...
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | elsewhere...
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Boys, our situation is about to get worse.
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: How could it possibly get worse?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: You had to ask?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Well.. Chelsea said that...
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: What?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Well, let's just say that we're going to get more pressure.
| |
− |
| |
− | Voice: Al! I've had enough of your incompetence!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': You see... Hillary's off to New York, and she left us with another replacement...
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: Oh NO!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Yep... Tipper.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Your wife can't be that bad, Al.
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: That's not the point! If she gets involved... I'm toast...
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: Al, I think you are going a poor job of getting the presidency. Didn't Bill teach you anything? *Pauses* Then again, he is Bill...
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Hey!
| |
− |
| |
− | Gore: Dear... now is not the time... elections next week you know.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: I guess we can kiss this presidency goodbye.
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | CHAPTER 23: THE SECRET OF ALGORE
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Well, since Hellary's off in New York, and God knows where Chillsea snuck off too, I need someone to do the thinking around here.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Clintin' pushes a secret button on his desk. A secret door opens behind a picture of Washington, and he, Pukecannon, Algore, and Tipper walk in and descend into what appears to be a secret laboratory. Lined against the walls are various headless robotic bodies, dressed in suits.
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: As you know, I'm the one who's been orchestrating my husband's efforts to "reinvent" himself. Literally.
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Suddenly, Tipper reaches underneath Algore's tie and presses a hidden switch. Suddenly, his head disconnects itself from his body, and scrambles down onto a workbench on little mechanical legs.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *horrified* Oh my GOD! He's a ROBOT?!?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': *chuckling* Surprised?
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *thinks for a moment* ...No, not really, actually.
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: You see, I met him years ago at Harvard. Like most Harvard students, his father had used his wealth and influence to get him in, even though he was an unpromising, dull, C-Average hippie. Oddly enough, I fell in love with him. Then he went to Vietnam. What no one knows is that, while there, his helicopter was shot down over the Journalist Base Tennis Court, and he was horribly mangled. I had secretly studied bionics at Harvard, and used my skill to rebuild him. I made him stiffer; blander. I rebuilt him into the humorless, unemotional calculator he is today... *looks at him and sighs lovingly*
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Naturally, having dodged the draft while at Harvard myself, I heard about this project. I decided he would be the perfect person to offset my complete managerial incompetence and total lack of professionalism and help me become President.
| |
− |
| |
− | Algore's Head: Well, me and Hellary.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Yeah, well... *shrugs* Anyway, what did you have in mind Tipper?
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: Well, the past "reinventing" efforts proved to be enormously successful. I created several different versions of my husband to meet the public's varying tastes...
| |
− |
| |
− | "Natural" Algore... *indicates a robot body wearing an Earth-Tone suit and Boots, with a flower on it*
| |
− |
| |
− | "Tough" Algore... *Indicates a body wearing a white shirt and tie, showing off a muscular build. Algore's head scurries onto its shoulders and it immediately drops and starts doing pushups*
| |
− |
| |
− | "Sensitive" Algore... *wears flashy clothing. The head jumps off the other body and jumps into this one. Quickly, it sweeps Tipper off her feet and embraces her in a passionate kiss*
| |
− |
| |
− | ...Oooh! Down, Al! And, most recently, "Rolling Stone" Algore! *indicates a body wearing a white T-shirt, denim pants, and an unbuttoned jacket. The head jumps onto it and it quickly begins playing guitar*
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Of course. But what's left?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Tipper rips a white sheet off to reveal a 12-foot tall shining metallic body wearing a white shirt and tie, wile also equipped with lasers, missiles, guns, and sawblades*
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: ..."Super-Saiyan Death-Bot Al!" We think he will allow us to finally destroy those meddling Doki Doki Panikers while simultaneously attracting the coveted "15-25 Year-Old Loser" demographic!
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Algore's head crawls up and situates itself atop the fearsome body. He puts on sunglasses.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Excellent.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | --Later, at the Motel 8, Ditto and Vorpal sit in their room, watching "Star Wars"...--
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Well, now good buddy, we play the waiting game. It just don't get no better n' this.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>suddenly, there is a huge noise coming from outside...*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Go see who that is, would you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Sure, fine. *goes to the door, but hesitates* Hey, Vorpal, you wanna know somethin?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Darth Vader turns out to be his father.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Yeah, right. *stares at screen. A few minutes later...* D'oh!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *staring out the blinds* Uh-oh. Vorp, we got company...
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Ditto opens the blinds, and we see Deathbot Al approaching. Vorpal jumps over to another window and peeks out.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Over here too...
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Opens the shutters to reveal Dubya, Shrub, and Masamune approaching from the other side*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hey! Wait a minute! Where's the Lady In Red?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I don't know! Looks like we're on our own here!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune, in his own room suddenly perks up.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: You sense some evil force you must stop?
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Nope, I'm hungry *goes up to get a drink but hears noise downstairs*
| |
− | You be Quiet down there, Vorpal, or I'll tell the Press you had Nose Hair Surgery!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Why don’t we already?
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: I'm too lazy... Hey, isn't that Murasame, Dubya and Shrub down there?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: It is sir, but why is Murasame sneaking around with them. I thought he decided to work on a different Forum.
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Hmmm.... Let's INVESTIGATE!!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Oh boy, the election will be held soon. We can't risk anymore mistakes.
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: When's the last time I made a mistake.... *thinks* Don't answer that one! If I'm not back in twenty Minutes... Bring in bird gang.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Masamune jumps down behind Murasame who is in the alley with Dubya and Shrub*
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Will Murasame, Dubya, Shrub and all the others do their plans successfully?
| |
− |
| |
− | Everyone: SHHHHH!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: *small voice* Stay Tuned....
| |
− |
| |
− | The three of them stalk towards the building. The tall one wearing green overalls, the shorter one wearing noticeable cowboy attire, boots and spurs, a deputy star on his shirt, a lasso at his side. The other a mystery still.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Shrub, do you know the reason why we're sneaking off to the Motel 8 with this character?
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Uh, nope.
| |
− |
| |
− | The younger brother's words were usually regarded with pride and respect..
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Good, neither do I.
| |
− |
| |
− | See, he understands.
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Besides being forced into this presidency thing due to dad's wishes, what are your final thoughts on this matter?
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Final?
| |
− |
| |
− | Though it is obvious that some things may go over his head. Cries of fuzzy math pierce the air, but only in their minds. It's true. They haven’t lost yet, but it seems almost inevitable now..
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Ya know. We once held the popular vote but it's been taken by a bunch of youngsters who don't know much 'bout what they're doing. I know Dad's pretty upset 'bout that but the truth being there's not much we can do.
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Isn't that why we're here?
| |
− |
| |
− | He who knows no answer still. His mind shrunken by the words of his father and betters. His dear mother still cries every night. 'I taught him the alphabet! I could have taught them all! I taught him how to count! Where has that all gone?'
| |
− | Here in Texas we say, "fuzzy math"
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: I guess so.
| |
− |
| |
− | says the younger brother in response to his elder brothers obvious incompetence. The Bush name is no longer sacred, or is it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: Will you two shut up? We're initiating the first step...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Which is?
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: Well, we figure the best way to rid ourselves of the competition is to use your motto, George!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Eh?
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: I was under the impression you were smarter than this [mutter] Execute them, my dear chap! I'm sure the old man would approve.
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Now just a minute! You can't use my brother’s sayings against him here!
| |
− |
| |
− | A high pitched nasal voice cries out, "It's me Ralph Nader! I speak for the trees!" but likewise it is drowned out by a new arrival..
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: [Appearing behind them] Uh, heh.. BOO!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: *nervous* Do you think that was wise, master?
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, it would appear that our rivals for the Presidency have assembled, the night before the election, in one final, desperate attempt to remove us from the race...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: I couldn't sleep anyway. *draws sword* ...Let's rock.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Vorpal, you have a sword, you parry Masamune and Murasame... And get rid of the Super Bushio Bros. while you’re at it.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>looks in the distance* ...Leave Mr. Potato Head to me...
| |
− |
| |
− | ~~But meanwhile... what has happened to the Lady In Red...?~~
| |
− |
| |
− | The snow falls over New York City... A few transients huddle beneath the scant warmth of the newsman's wares. A few cars sail carefully across the ice-slickened roads. The entire city shudders from the cold chill, which whips over the structures...
| |
− |
| |
− | ...A cold which is uniquely suited to the target of the Crimson-Clad Heroine's search...
| |
− |
| |
− | High in the sky, a form, floating on a self-made updraft of warmth swoops high over the rooftops like a Valkyrie Version of Mary Poppins... She stiffens as the image of a tall, dark building is reflected in the lens of her ornate Scarlet Mask.
| |
− |
| |
− | Unseen by the many good and not-so-good people of the city below, she begins a slow descent, to finally enter the lair of her long-time quarry. The principal reason she had for joining forces with the Doki Doki Panikers. She gritted her teeth in anticipation of confronting the foe who had not only masterminded the campaign against her friends, but was also attempting, at this last moment of all, to seize control over the country by taking over the Lady In Red's home state...
| |
− |
| |
− | ~Sitting in her top-floor office a few hours before delivering a speech in her run for Senator, Hellary plans yet another devious plot...~
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Go, my pretties! Lazsio is on his way to the debate! Find him and weaken him, wear him down, so he will barely be able to hold his head up during the debate!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>A bunch of wild, screeching shadows fly out the window to carry out her orders. It is late, and Hellary is alone... she thinks. A curtain rustles, and suddenly, she is face-to-face with...*
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: ...The Lady In Red...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Hm. Dispatching your wretched lackeys? What were they? Flying monkeys?
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Hm hm hm ha ha ha... Close. Winged bureaucrats. You look cold. Not used to the unseasonal weather?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: You know very well that the cause of this chill is you.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Hm. I guess I have that effect on people. Soon, when I gain control of the most economically crucial state in the Union, my presence will infiltrate lives all over the country. Hm hm hm ha ha ha...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: It'll never happen, Ice Queen. I'm here to see to that...
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: You've been going out of your way to thwart my efforts since the beginning. You've even assisted those hopeless Doki Panikers to keep my pawns out of office. What's your stake? What interest have you in these things?
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Just call me... a concerned citizen.
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Concerned...? Well, I always like to know who my constituents are... Now, to find out once and for all... who you are underneath that mask!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, Hellary blows a sharp arctic wind across the room. The Lady in Red is blown against the wall. Her mask is blown off her face, to reveal Sapphire. She puts up her parasol to protect herself from the wind, but Hellary sees her face*
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Just a... little girl? Some young punk political activist?! I'll have you know I was burning my unmentionables long before you were coughing up milk! Now, come here, and I'll turn you over to Juvie!
| |
− |
| |
− | Sapphire: You stay away from me you... witch! *Saph grabs a nearby janitor's bucket with her umbrella and flings it at Hellary. It hits her full in the face, soaking her thoroughly. She screeches and covers her face, but it is too late. Her makeup begins to run...*
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: *screeech!* I'm melting! MEEEELTING! Look what you've done, you wretch! It took me hours to get like this! Oh, what a world, what a world... *her true, ugly face shows beneath the makeup. Her chances of making a good showing are now lying in a puddle in the floor*
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: Noooo...
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>In a blink, Saph reaches down and replaces her mask. She then opens her umbrella, and catches an updraft out the window...*
| |
− |
| |
− | -Meanwhile... Ditto prepares for Gorebot 2000*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Ditto, how can you face him? Guisseppie isn't here. Haven't you been in your human form all this time?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Nope! I've been in politician form!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh, well... Give 'em Hades... partner.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't worry about me... No one... But no one... Not even some self-reinventing chameleon private-school snot... can out-change this shape-changer!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>punches Guisseppie and turns into a Gundam Wing Mech. The two begin firing missiles at one another.*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...Hmmm... he's so well-built. Almost Japanese, in quality. How can I beat him?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>thinks back to everything he's read about Algore up to this point*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What's been his weakness? Hmmm... keeping his facts straight... Let's see, what's been his most vulnerable spot...?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>remembers the story Algore once told about hearing his mother sing "Just Look For the Union Label" when he was an infant... a song that didn't come out until 20 years later. Suddenly, it hits him...*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Wait! That was in... the 60s! That song must have been playing... when he was on the workbench! That's it!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>flies around to the back of Algore*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Let's see... *sees an insignia on the back of Algore's head. It says, *Inspected By Union 13* ...THERE IT IS! THE UNION LABEL! And one thing you can always count on about American Workmanship...!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Ditto fires a single missile at the Plate. A huge explosion rips from the metallic body. Algore's head goes flying, and lands, smoking, in Tipper's awed hands*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: ...Thank God for low Standards of American Workmanship...! *gives thumbs up*
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: AIGH! This is it... now is the time to show what the Birdocrats are really made of! Our enemies are no longer the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panic Team!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: ‘Tis not?
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: No, for it is AlGore and Dubya the true evil ones! (besides, we can rule the world in our own unique fashion without running for president)
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: I see! I shall call in backup! Birdo, Albatoss, Ostro, Goonie, Tweeter, Dactyl, Raven, all of you. Here now!
| |
− |
| |
− | ~ Several birds appear and land on the ground ~
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator: Both Murasame and Vorpal look over at the birds.
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: *grins at Murasame* Remember 'The Birds'?
| |
− |
| |
− | Murasame: Aieee! Scary Movie, Birds 2 was scary!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Ever wondered what happened in Birds 3? Let’s find out! BIRDS! 'Delta Ultra Ultra Maximum Hoky Hoky Fear' attack!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Don't tell me this is a 'dub' too...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh no. This is purely American. Isn't it obvious?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *rolls eyes*
| |
− |
| |
− | ~ Dodo and his companions begin to attack Murasame and send him away ~
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *jaw drops* You.. helped us?
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Yeah, yeah. Don't go thinking were friends or anything. I still have a score to settle with you!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: *claps* Very nice, unfortunately it's too late... Go Cheney!
| |
− |
| |
− | [Clasp!]
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: Gwah! What happened?
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: Cheney is in the lockbox...! *giggles insanely* Mm hm hm ha ha ha! (Saturday Night Live Political Edition reference...) The place where all rival Pokemon Vice-presidents go... safe in the lockbox...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: The lock box!?!?! That's downright sinsterful!
| |
− |
| |
− | Tipper: Sinisterful is not a word!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: . . . Okay, so I guess that since it's all over, we just wait.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I guess.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Narrator from Rocky and Bullwinkle Cartoon: Will Vorpal and Ditto win? Find out next time on . . . Misfits in the White House OR Down in the Dumps!
| |
− |
| |
− | A black screen soon appears. John Madden and some other football announcer named Ted.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ted: So John, what did you think of Vorpal's first big post in the Ongoing Storyboard?
| |
− |
| |
− | John: I think it went well. It was iffy in the middle, but Ditto really pulled it together.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ted: A robotic Al Gore? What'd you think of that?
| |
− |
| |
− | John: A little unbelievable, but I think it worked out.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ted: And what did you think about that 'Lady in Red'?
| |
− |
| |
− | John: I was shocked when we learned it was...uh, the girl with the jewel name.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ted: What about Masamune and the Birdocrats?
| |
− |
| |
− | John: I didn't get that at all. As I think about it, this whole post was a complete joke! It doesn't make a lick of sense!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ted: It's okay John, remember your blood pressure.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− | In the front Lobby of Motel 6, everyone is watching TVs.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: YES! Go Gore! Go Gore! Go Gore!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Everyone looks at him like he's crazy*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Oops. Sorry. I've been watching the "Real World" returns! *Turns to a fictional channel*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hmmm... Let's see the results... I'm winning the popular vote, but I'm surprised by the electoral one.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: Are you losing?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Heck no. It's just tighter than I thought it would be.
| |
− |
| |
− | Sgt. Flutter: Hey! They're showing the results of the Exit Polls!
| |
− |
| |
− | That Delightful Peter Jennings: ...Okay, Election 2000 is underway. We've been polling people about how they voted and why. You, sir, what do you think?
| |
− |
| |
− | Man: Well, I voted ‘fer that guy with the sword name.
| |
− |
| |
− | TDPJ: Uhhh... Vorpal?
| |
− |
| |
− | Man: No, the guy with the sword name.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *Yelling at the screen* Vorpal is a sword name. Read "Jabberwocky" for crying out loud! Doesn't Lewis Carroll ring a bell?
| |
− |
| |
− | TDPJ: You mean... Masamune? But... he killed thousands of people.
| |
− |
| |
− | Man: Yeah, including my mother-in-law.
| |
− |
| |
− | TDPJ: *sweat* Uh... OK. Th-there you have it...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: That's okay Vorpal. You're still carrying... lessee... Alaska and Hawaii.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh, great. The freak states.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Well, according to the popularity vote, you got 100% in... Florida and New York.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What about Missouri?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Sgt. Flutter: *eating a sandwich* Maybe they remember you.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *angry*
| |
− |
| |
− | Delightful Peter Jennings (on TV): Now, we join George W. Bush, his wife Laura, and George and Barbara as they watch the elections. Former President Bush, what do you think is the leading cause of your son's poor showing in this election?
| |
− |
| |
− | Old Man: I'd say a mix of complex economic and social factors.
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: ...And you, Mrs. Bush?
| |
− |
| |
− | Barbara: ...Ditto.
| |
− |
| |
− | Jennings: ...And there you have it. This is the Delightful Peter Jennings, signing off.
| |
− |
| |
− | ~ At Motel 6 ~
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *jaw drops* How did she know?!?
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: *jaw drops* Whoa! I'm in lead in polls! DANGIT!
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>clicks button and his face appears on TV nation wide*
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Stop voting for me! I dropped out, if I win I will destroy America!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Your polls increased...
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: I'll raise taxes and gas prices!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Higher...
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: I'm a darn nice guy, love me!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dodo: Your votes reached an all-time low!
| |
− |
| |
− | Masamune: Whew! What a relief, I never wanted to rule a Country anyway!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Ditto pokes his head out of a large box marked "BALLOT BOX." little crumpled up pieces of paper lay in piles all around*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: What? ME? How could you-- oops. *takes off his black mask*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: I'm... helping them count. *crawls back in*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *from within* Hmmm... Gore. Hmmm... Gore... Hmmm. Bush. *crumpling noise*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Another balled-up wad comes flying out*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *pokes head out and yells off to one side* Okay guys! I found another "lost" ballot box back here! *crawls back in*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Hmmm... Gore... Vorpal... Vorpal... Di--? ME?!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: *Blink* What in the world--?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>TV shows a triumphant Hellary giving a speech*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *jaw drop* I guess you didn't melt her enough....
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: *Sigh* Oh, and one thing. *Takes off her mask*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *jaw drop* Sapphire?!
| |
− |
| |
− | Sapphire: *shrug* Hellary already saw me, so figured that you would eventually find out... *replaces the mask*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Actually--
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: SHHH!
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: Go Nader. Errr... I mean Bush!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: You do know Gore is going to win.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: He knows, just doesn't want to admit it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: *Very mad* C'mon guys!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Watching “Real World” returns...
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oh.
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: But my sky troopas over sea haven't voted yet. There are about a billion of them and they are on the side of Bush... *pause* I mean, Vorpal of course...
| |
− |
| |
− | Over seas...
| |
− |
| |
− | SkyTroopa 1: Whom should we vote for?
| |
− |
| |
− | SkyTroopa 2: The one who Sarge wants to win.
| |
− |
| |
− | SkyTroopa 3: Which is that?
| |
− |
| |
− | SkyTroopa 4: I think it is Nader.
| |
− |
| |
− | SkyTroopa 1-1,000,000,000: Ok. *Marks Nader*
| |
− |
| |
− | February 15, 2001...
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: Stupid Sky-Troopas. Turning America communist. Government making us wear this stupid uniform. Making us go to war with everybody.
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | THE FINAL COUNT...
| |
− |
| |
− | That delightful Peter Jennings: Well, it all comes down to Florida. What an amazing race it's been. Here's how the count currently stands.
| |
− | Dubya: 32.3%
| |
− | Algore: 32.3%
| |
− | Vorpal: 32.3%
| |
− | Pukecannon: 0%
| |
− | Nader: 3%
| |
− | And the Nader said nothing
| |
− | Just gave a sad, sad backward glance,
| |
− | As he lifted himself, by the seat of his pants.
| |
− | And I'll ne'er forget, ‘twas in the darkest of moods,
| |
− | As he hoisted himself, back into the woods.
| |
− | And where the Nader last stood, was one word,
| |
− | UNLESS
| |
− | we'll never know what it means, I guess.
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: It MEANS we'll never get to hear the UNLESS you shut up!
| |
− |
| |
− | Tom Bodett: Oops. Sorry.
| |
− |
| |
− | That Delightful Peter Jennings: ...Only one more ballot box has yet to be counted. Oddly enough, officials say there is no sign of it.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: No sign...?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Where is it...?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly, a door is kicked open. Someone familiar to EVERYONE steps into the room. Gone, however, are his familiar suits. Instead, he wears blue jeans and a wife-beater. In his hand is a Big Mac*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Clintin'!!!
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Relax! I'm not here as an enemy. The last box was stolen, and I know by whom.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: W-who?
| |
− |
| |
− | --In the car, the lights pass over the face of... Pukecannon!--
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: HAHHAAA! Ultimate power is mine! I will sell this to the highest bidder, and next election, I will have enough moolah to run my OWN campaign! Mwhahaha!
| |
− |
| |
− | Man: *pulling up to him* Hey, either speed up or get out of the passin' lane, pops.
| |
− |
| |
− | --
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': We gotta stop him.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: But... isn't he your crony?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Not anymore. He's gone plum crazy. We gotta get him, and I have just the thing.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>They step out and see a school bus by the curb*
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': I've had 'er in the garage since the election, when I used to tour in it. Hop in.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>They do. Clintin' hops into the driver's seat and shuts the doors. They pull out.*
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: But, why should we trust you?
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Look, I've always been under Hillary’s control. But, since you defeated her, little missy, I've been freed. Y'see... I was just a poor farm-boy in Little Rock, Arkansas. One day, I was ridin' a load of turnips into Cambridge, Massachusetts. I fell off, and stumbled into Harvard. Hillary found me. She saw I had the ability to charm people. She asked me if I ever wanted to be someone, and I jumped like a trout upstream. I became her willing slave. She got me through Harvard, Yale, and Oxford, and ever since she's used me as her tool to gain power, and to have Chelsea. But now, my two terms are over, and my image is manure. I'm of no use to her now. The spells broken, and I'm free of her control, thanks to you, li'l missy.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: You're welcome.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hey! Look up ahead! It's Pukecannon!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Where?
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: In the passing lane, going 28 mph with his left-blinker on.
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: He's right! There he is!
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *grabbing the binoculars* Hmmm... Ha! Hahaha!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What is it?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: He won't get far.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: What do you mean?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Look there. *Hands him the binos and points*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Whe- Oh my God... *passes the binos* His tires...
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: They're...
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *Big grin* Firestone!
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: He's dead.
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: Hahaha! There's the state border! I'm home free... And it's all thanks to...
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Suddenly the car goes up in a ball of flames. Pukecannon goes flying into the horizon. The ballots go flying off the road*
| |
− |
| |
− | Pukecannon: *flying away* Looks like Team Reform's blasting off agaiiiin! *ding*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>The bus pulls over. Everyone gets out to retrieve the last ballots on Earth. Reporters gather around to cover the opening of this last ballot box.*
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: *Looking inside* Wow! There are TONS in here!
| |
− |
| |
− | Peter Jennings: Here we are, live, at what will be the dramatic climax of the most turbulent election in over a century. Here now, we will show you, live, the FINAL count, to see who will be the next President.
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Hey! It's the Delightful Peter Jennings! Hi! I'm your biggest fan!
| |
− |
| |
− | Peter Jennings: How do you know that?
| |
− |
| |
− | Flutter: He must be. Trust us.
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Hey! Look! A whole buncha flyin' turtles! They're bringin the overseas ballots to us!
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady in Red: So, what's the final count, Ditto?
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: It's... it's...
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | --Governor's Mansion--
| |
− |
| |
− | Dubya: YES?
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | --White House--
| |
− |
| |
− | AlGore: YES?
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | --Every household in America--
| |
− |
| |
− | Everyone: Yes?
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | --Texas--
| |
− |
| |
− | Perot: No. I mean yes. No. Yes. No. Yes.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: It's...
| |
− |
| |
− | --suddenly, the film breaks--
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>In the sound booth*
| |
− |
| |
− | Vorpal: Oopsie.
| |
− |
| |
− | Lady In Red: Looks like, due to technical difficulties *holds the shears behind her back* The endings been cut.
| |
− |
| |
− | Ditto: Stay tuned for "Doki Panik 2: The Vorpal Administration!"
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>If you are listening to the Midi from the top, I suggest you skip the credits for now and read the "Final Scene" near the End of the Post. It's designed to go well with the very end of "One Winged Angel"*
| |
− |
| |
− |
| |
− | --CREDITS--
| |
− |
| |
− | (Now, those of you who finished FF3, you may remember the ending involved playing each character's "Theme." Well, I went to a lot of trouble to find "Themes" for important elements to the story. Punch in the following web addresses to either bring up the Midi file, or go to the web page. I think you'll find most appropriate and entertaining. Relax. Listen. Enjoy. Reflect.)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Hail to the Chief" - Presidential Theme
| |
− | (www.divtune.com/s/hailtoch_.mid)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Almost Unreal" - "Vorpal's Theme"
| |
− | (If you don't see how it relates to him, think about where you might have heard it... I'm sure HE'LL recognize it)
| |
− | (http://midi.roxette.org/au1.mid)
| |
− |
| |
− | "A Town Where You Can See the Ocean" - "Ditto McCloaker's Theme"
| |
− | (If you can't guess where it's from, I ain't gonna tell .)
| |
− | (www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Bay/6800/kiki/music/kiki.mid)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Lady In Red" - "Sapphire's Theme"
| |
− | (It's a web page I just happened to stumble over. Enjoy)
| |
− | (http://members.nbci.com/WebMistris/ladyinred.html)
| |
− |
| |
− | "If I Only" - "Dubya, Algore, and Nader Theme"
| |
− | (The perfect songs for Dubya, Algore, and Nader, in that order! It's a web page! Enjoy!)
| |
− | (www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Hills/6396/ifionly.htm)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Wild Blue Yonder (Military Song)" - "Flutter's Theme"
| |
− | (hope you like it, Sarge!)
| |
− | (http://http://members.tripod.com/~Son_Struck/pmmf/wildblueyonder.mid)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Dodo" - "Masamune's Theme"
| |
− | (You'll recognize it, I'm sure, Masa!)
| |
− | (www.rpgmidi.com/midi/mrpg/mrpgdodo.mid)
| |
− |
| |
− | And last but not least... "Theme for our loyal "Merlin-the-Magic-Seer Machine" - "Thank You Very Much, Mr. Roboto"
| |
− | {http://home.klis.com/~bertrob/80stop/roboto.html)
| |
− |
| |
− | "Ending Theme"
| |
− | (http://rivendell.fortunecity.com/vampire/452/rpgmidis/ending.mid)
| |
− | Hope you like 'em.
| |
− |
| |
− | --And Now...--
| |
− |
| |
− | Dear Love,
| |
− | I fear that things are not going well over here in the States. It looks like my family has fallen out of favor.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Across the ocean, a private jet lands on a foggy airfield. The carpet rolls out, and a person emerges, flanked by guards...*
| |
− |
| |
− | I can no longer tolerate them, so I am coming to you, my darling. Together, we shall succeed where my foolish parents failed.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>A bunch of guards wearing bushy helmets open a large gate and escort a young lady up to a large Palace*
| |
− |
| |
− | An imbecilic, unfaithful, reviled father...
| |
− | A martyred yet controversial mother...
| |
− | Born into families of wealth and influence, given the best education and preparation...
| |
− |
| |
− | Spending our childhood’s hiding from the public eye...
| |
− | Both bent on world domination...
| |
− | I feel that, with so much in common, that we are the perfect pair...
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Sitting in a chair in an impressive Palace room, a shadowy figure looks up from a letter and flips his blonde hair. He is surrounded by icy fog. A fog that emanates from him*
| |
− |
| |
− | Love,
| |
− | Chillsea
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Another cold mist enters the room as a pair of British guards’ escort in Chillsea*
| |
− |
| |
− | Boy: Ah, you've arrived, my darling.
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: I've waited so long to see you again, my Dark Prince of Evil.
| |
− |
| |
− | Boy: No need for the formalities, my dearest. To you, I am merely...
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>he rises from his throne. A fog rolls off his shoulders and emanates from him*
| |
− |
| |
− | Dark Prince: ...William.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>The two purely evil offspring embrace. His fog and her chill combine, and instantly the room is plunged into a grim, icy gloom*
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: So gloomy and cold in here...
| |
− |
| |
− | Dark Prince: ...We're perfect together!
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: ...And soon, the world will tremble at our feet!
| |
− |
| |
− | Dark Prince: Mwa ha-ha-ha-ha...!
| |
− |
| |
− | Chillsea: Hm hm hm ha ha ha...!
| |
− |
| |
− | --In the White House--
| |
− |
| |
− | Hellary: *eyes popping* Where is Chelsea? *sees a note tacked to the seat. She snatches it up and begins reading* BIIIIILLLL!
| |
− |
| |
− | --At McDonald's--
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>A tall figure behind a cash register turns to address a customer*
| |
− |
| |
− | Clintin': Would you like fries with that?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Turns to the camera, smiles, and winks*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>The evil laughter of Chillsea and the Dark Prince echo through the darkness*
| |
− |
| |
− | ----
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>A bunch of people crowd into a meeting hall and sit down. A tall, mustachioed man in green overalls stands up and addresses the crowd...*
| |
− |
| |
− | Luigi: Today, Luigi-Anon has a new member with us today. He, too, struggles with an addiction: He helps his older brother gain national fame and then toils under his shadow. Sir, will you please rise and introduce yourself?
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Shrub, wearing green overalls and cap, stands up*
| |
− |
| |
− | Shrub: Hello. My name is Jeb Bush... and I'm a closet Luigi. *Breaks down and cries*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>The crowd applauds*
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>Roger Clinton (Bill's brother) rises*
| |
− |
| |
− | Roger: ...We feel your pain.
| |
− |
| |
− | <nowiki>*</nowiki>They hug*
| |
− |
| |
− | -----------
| |
− | ...THE END
| |
− |
| |
− | -Hours later-
| |
− |
| |
− | Sgt. Flutter: *steps in on everyone sitting in confetti with bottles of Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke on the floor* Did we win?
| |
| | | |
| {{MMEDDP Chapters}} | | {{MMEDDP Chapters}} |
Chapter 3
Vorpal: Okay, now that "Kiki's Delivery Service" is over, we gotta work on the campaign. Let's ask our Head Campaign Advisor.
*They go to the lobby and put a quarter in the "Merlin-the-Magic-Seer" machine*
Vorpal: Where did we get this guy?
Ditto: From the Green Party Campaign HQ. Apparently they fired it.
Merlin: *eyes begin to glow* You-will-find-wealth-and-fortune-your-lucky-numbers-are-18-42...
Ditto: Didja hear that? He said wealth and fortune! He tellin' us we need money for advertising!
Vorpal: Of course! What’s the current total in the campaign treasury?
Ditto: *takes out his wallet, and a moth pops out* I got $20.38, and a Subway card.
Vorpal: Hmmm... How many stamps are on the Subway card?
Ditto: Uh... 12.
Vorpal: I got 8 on mine... HEY! WE GET A FREE SUB!!!
*Excited, they run to the nearest Subway*
Vorpal: I just thought of something. We gotta provide food at the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party Convention. Where'll we get it?
Ditto: Hmmm... Wait! I have an idea!
Cashier: Okay, and, with the cards, that sub is free. *Stamps a card* You want anything to drink?
Ditto: Yeah. A BIG one. From that shelf WAAAAY up there! *Points*
Cashier: Uhhh.... okay...
*There is a rustling*
Cashier: One biggie drink, which comes to... HEY! Where did they go??? Where's all the Subway cards? AND THE STAMPER?!?
Tom Bodett: (narrating) And so, feeling like bandits in the night, our heroes hurried back to the Motel 6, where we'll leave the light on fer ya. (Plug)
Vorpal: *stamping cards as fast as possible* Who's that guy?
Ditto: *writing invitations* Tom Bodett. He's the spokesperson for Motel 6. I hired him to be our story's narrator.
Vorpal: Why?
Ditto: Because, he has such a familiar, down to earth voice, and he'll make people like us.
Vorpal: ...and...?
Ditto: ...and, since he narrated for "Me, Myself, and Irene," his career's been in the skids. Guess what he's working for?
Tom Bodett: (narrating) Now, those two small-town boys never did quite know when to shut up, and when it came time for--
Ditto: *quickly* Okay okay! I won't tell!
Tom Bodett: All-righty then. By the way, I want extra turkey and mustard on mine.
Ditto: You bet. *snicker*
Tom Bodett: (narrating) Now, little did those idealistic young office-seekers know that in the Luxury Penthouse in the Hilton across town, some serious plotting was going on against them, and by none other than...
Vorpal: Okay, what is it?
Ditto: We're gonna need people to speak at the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik National Convention. We gotta find some speakers that will grab attention.
Vorpal: Brilliant! We'll compile lists and hold interviews!
Tom Bodett: And interview they did. And can't anybody say that by the end of the day, those two young fellers hadn't amassed a wide array of interesting national figures. But, as always, the villains were formulating their own cunning strategies...
Gore: We'll just have to make those boys disappear, Washington Style! *Takes out a black, uniform looking cell-phone* Division Six, please. Yes, we need those two removed. Beautiful. See ya.
Pukecannon: Who was that?
AlGore: Division Six.
Pukecannon: Division Six? I know of no Division Six!
AlGore: Quite right. You see, it's something only the President and I know about.
*Suddenly, the door opens and two men walk in wearing black suits and ties, with black sunglasses and formal manners*
AlGore: Meet... the Men in Black.
J: You sure these guys is aliens?
K: You ask too many questions, kid.
*AlGore smiles at Pukecannon*
~ Meanwhile ~
Ditto: Okay, MMEDDPNC checklist. Lobby reservations?
Vorpal: Check.
Ditto: Food arrangements?
Vorpal: *Holding up stacks and stacks of stamped Subway cards* Check.
Ditto: And what guest speakers do we have lined up?
Vorpal: Lesse... Fred Rogers, with his "Oh, Won't You Be My Neighbor" speech on community activities... Ross Perot on economics, and ...Monica Lewinsky on public relations.
Monica: Well, I never!
Vorpal: *raising an eyebrow* That's not the word on the street.
Ditto: What do we need to do now?
Vorpal: I get a weird feeling that at some point or another, we're gonna have to spend some money during this campaign, and we should be raising some bucks!
Ditto: But, how...*light bulb shines over his head* Bake sale!
Vorpal: Come and eat our snacks! Fifty cents for the marshmallow squares! Then listen to "Weird Al" Yankovic!
Ditto: Free pretzels!
Vorpal: Free?
Ditto: Water is $25 a glass.
Vorpal: Put extra salt on them.
Nader: That is it you're fired. I'll get someone else to run a campaign.
Flutter: Well anyway where is my milkshake?
Nader: You don't get it.
Flutter: Good. I'm joining Vorpal's side. At least he keeps his promises.
Vorpal: It’s nice that Weird Al is helping us.
Ditto: Just as long as he doesn't sing "Just Eat It" one more time.
Weird Al: Your butt is wide, well mine is too . . .
Ditto: D'oh!
Vorpal: I went and asked our adviser about money.
Ditto: What'd he say?
Vorpal: You'll get a hundred bucks and a turtledove. My lucky numbers are 3 and 628 1/2.
Ditto: Wow! A hundred bucks.
Flutter: Hey, can I help you guys?
Vorpal: Sure but you have to bring something to this campaign. The MMEDDP Party has high integrity.
Flutter: I brought a hundred male deer.
Ditto: I get it a hundred bucks and a turtledove. Ha ha.
Weird Al: (coming over to talk) Hey! Can I be Secretary of State?
Flutter: I want to be Defense Secretary!
Tom: I want to be Press Secretary!
Ditto: Hey, I just thought of something cool, which should garner a lot of attention.
Vorpal: Yes?
Ditto: The Democratic National Convention is starting tonight!
Sgt. Flutter: Yeah, we know. So?
Ditto: ...Let's crash it!
Vorpal: Hey, we can deliver our speeches at THEIR convention! Ha ha!
Sarge: We need a plan...
Tom Bodett: Later that night they are all sitting around a battle plan written on the back of Motel 6 stationery. Sgt. Flutter has gone overboard. He's wearing an army helmet with bushes strapped to the top, and he's smeared camouflage paint all over his face and shell.
Vorpal: Flutter, We're just going to the DNC. We're not being shipped to Vietnam.
Sarge: *whispering* Don't call me Flutter! My code name is "Nitro!" Now, here's the plan. *Pulls down chart* Tom Bodett, you're the least conspicuous. You go up to the front gates and distract security. We'll go on in. Weird Al, you neutralize the guards, and Tom will sneak into the electronic control tower here, and shut off the primary security systems.
Vorpal: You know, we could just...
Flutter: ...I'll fly up to the roof and rappel down into the main air duct, and crash into the main convention hall arriving at 0300 hrs, just after the second speech, and I'll take out the secret service. Agent "Neighbor" will...
Ditto: Uh, which of us is codename "Neighbor" again?
Mr. Rogers: Uh that’s me. Isn't there another way to...
Flutter: AHEM! "Neighbor" will commandeer the personnel transport unit into the compound, and drive around back to the food preparation area. Agents "Stryke," "Cloaker," "Keebler Elf," and "Blue Dress" will be concealed in the back of the transport. Upon arrival, you will all enter the food preparation service area and begin transporting as much food as possible into the back of the truck, for our convention.
Ditto: Get me some crullers.
Flutter: When I give the secret call, all you come in and we'll deliver our speeches before live television, and then escape in the panic. Is everything clear?
Ross Perot: What's the secret call?
Flutter: Quiet, "Keebler Elf." It's a secret! All right, everyone. Spread out, don't move in-groups, and let's all meet at the DMC at 0800 hours! Let's synchronize our watches!
Ross Perot: *whispering to others* Can he be trusted?
Mr. Rogers: Yeah, he's okay. He's just spent a little too much time in the "Land of make-believe." (Whirls his index finger around his ear)
Flutter: Everyone got his or her uniforms on?
Mr. Rogers: *singing to himself as he puts on his camos and laces up his army boots exactly the way he changes into his sweater and shoes on the program* It's a beautiful day in the beauty wood, won't you be mine? Won't you be mine?...
Vorpal: Did you understand a word he said?
Weird Al: Nope. I guess we'll just have to wing it.
Ditto: This is great.
On TV:
Peter Jennings: This is ABC's special coverage of the National Democratic National Convention. We go now to Chief Analysts - George Stephonopolisisisisis.
George Stephonopolisisisisis:
Thank you, Peter. We come to live in LA where Bill Clinton is expected to speak to night about the degrade of moral values in this country.
Peter: Thank you, George. Now at this time we'd like to remind everyone that only democrats are allowed at this convention. That is why the press got in so easily.
Weird Al in a FDR mask walks past Peter. In the stage you can see "Stryke" dressed as Jimmy Carter, The real Jimmy Carter, "Cloaker" dressed as Woodrow Wilson, "Keebler" as Andrew Johnson and all the other members of MMEDDP dressed as former Democratic US Presidents . . .
Tom Brokaw: Isn't that Andrew Johnson? I always thought he was taller than that.
Peter Jennings: It's the photographs. They arrange it like that. Abe Lincoln was only 5'8".
Tom Brokaw: No he wasn't! He was 6'4"!
Connie Chung: *waving* Hey! FDR! Over here!
Peter Jennings: I thought he was dead.
Tom Brokaw: *shrugs* Guess his career made a comeback.
Peter Jennings: No, I meant PHYSICALLY. You're just a face, you know that Brokaw?
Tom Brokaw: ...It's true! *sobs*
In the main air draft...
Nitro: Shhh.... Blue Dress did you hear that? Over.
Blue Dress: What? I didn't hear a thing. Over.
Nitro: I know. Cause it is quiet to quiet. Be careful it's a trap!
Narrator: Flutter, er um Nitro is dragged down into the sewers. And Flutter… er, Nitro sees Mouser and Nader.
Nader: I'm sorry you can't interfere with my plans. That is why I hired Mouser to help me out.
Mouser: Cheese, Cheese, Cheese, Cheeeeese!
Flutter: *Flattening himself against a wall* I'm wearing camouflage makeup! You can't see me! HA!
Nader: Yes, we can.
Flutter: No... you can't.
Nader: I assure you, we can.
Flutter: I beg to differ.
Nader: You're right there. You're just standing against that wall *Points at him*
Flutter: Uhhh... lucky guess.
Nader: Mouser, destroy him.
Mouser: boom! BOOM BOOM BOOM!
Narrator: Mouser throws bombs at Flutter, who catches them and hurls them back.
Mouser is blown to kingdom come, as always.
Mouser: Looks like Team Roquet's* blasting off agaiiiinnnn... *ding*
Flutter: Later, Nader! (I wish someone else was around to hear that one...*sigh*)
Tom Bodett: And using those big ol' wangs o' his, that clever little terrapin managed to fly up and out of that dangerous sewer, and back into the air ducts of the DNC. Meanwhile, we go around to the pantry of the DNC, to find... huge sacks full of rich goodies flying out the windows? Looks like our heroes done raided the pantry...
Cloaker: *coming out of the giant freezer lugging a HUGE turkey over his shoulder* Wow! We hit the jackpot! Let's get all this food into the truck. Where are all the donuts?
BlueDress: *munch, scarf* Oops. Sorry.
--Suddenly, a green hairy guy in a Santa suit tiptoes in with a fist full of sacks--
Keebler: Beat it, Grinch! This isn’t "How the Grinch Stole the Convention!" This is OUR heist!
Stryke: *Looking in a fridge* Wow, look! Decorations! Political candles, special silverware, expensive refreshments, and... oh! An ice sculpture of a donkey!
Cloaker: We'll carve it down into an aardvark later! BlueDress, what did you find?
BlueDress: *staring at a box of cigars* Oh, nothing. Just reminiscing about old jobs, I guess (sigh).
Cloaker: *roll eyes* Forget it. We have plenty of stuff. Let's load it up. When Flutter gives the call we've got to be ready to descend with our speeches.
Neighbor: Uhh... The second speech is ending. He should be calling about now...
~ Meanwhile, back in the air ducts ~
Flutter: OK! According to this map, I should be right over the speaker's podium in the main hall! *Begins to saw a hole down through the ceiling* Now, in just a few seconds...
Narrator: Flutter finishes sawing a circle beneath his feet, and, silently rehearsing his speech, promptly descends to find himself... stuck in the balloon net high above the crowd...*sigh*
Flutter: *struggling to move around in the balloons and net* MMmmf! HEEELP!
Down Below...
Clintin’: *sitting at banquet table, chatting with AlGore* Gee, I'm glad everything's turning out so well for ya, Al. Can't wait to make my big speech. *Looks up* Then we'll drop the balloons, and... Hey... do those balloons look like they're moving to you?
--Suddenly, well, actually, not suddenly, because you JUST KNEW this was gonna happen, Flutter manages to rip the balloon net, and they all begin to float to the floor...
Flutter: *falling* AAAAAHHHHHhhhhh....!
--With a big splash, Flutter does a perfect swan dive into Bill's soup--
Flutter: *thrashing around* AAAAHHH! Man Down!!! MAN DOWN!!! MEDIIIIC!!! I need a medic here! Acckkk!!!!
Clintin’: Well, howdy thar, little turtle!
Hellary: Waiter, there's a flyer in my husband's soup.
The releasing of one net causes all of the nets to open.
Gore: AAAAHHHH!!!!! MY BEAUTIFUL BALLOONS!
Peter Jennings: This is a stunning turn of events. Some sort of winged turtle opened the balloon nets, which Gore promptly told Dubya that he was going overboard with them.
Meanwhile in the back kitchen . . .
Stryke: I got an idea!
Stryke presses all of the fireworks buttons.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Stryke: This is even more than the RNC!
Cloaker: What's this one? "Do not push until after Cameras are off"
Stryke pushes it.
Bziooooooooo BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!
As the sparkles fly down, is has the resemblance to this:
(Nixon's face) <Dubya
Peter: Woah! A stunning show of events as the Democrats have really made fun of Dubya. I don't think this will go well with the American public.
Clintin’: (to AlGore) I told you not to shoot those off until the cameras were off!
AlGore: This is my campaign. You can't tell me what to do.
Clintin’: Wrong! This is really my third campaign! You are just my hamster!
AlGore: Guinea pig?
Clintin’: Don't correct me!
AlGore: Sorry.
Narrator: Sgt. Flutter climbs out of Clinton's soup and grabs some cocktail weenies. He then darts under the tablecloth.
Secret Service Guy: There he goes! After him!
Sec. Serv. Guy2: Look out! He has weenies!
Narrator: A large lump scurries under the tablecloth, across the table, knocking over everyone's plates.
Large Lump: (muffled) Hahahahaha! No one can catch Nitro!
Narrator: As Flutter works his way to the other end of the table, one enraged guest stabs at the lump with her fork.
Flutter: *pokes his head out from underneath the cloth and screams in her face* OOOW! OOOOOW! That's my TAIL, you idiot! *Scurries underneath the table*
Sec. Srvc. Guy: After him! There he goes!
Random Senator: *mad* Hey! I think he's stealing my shoelaces!
Narrator: Several men in black suits dive under the table just as Flutter scurries out on the other side. He then flaps up to the main banquet table. He turns around and faces the crowd. He has a bunch of weenies strapped to his chest, like dynamite, and holds a candelabrum in one hand.
Flutter: All right! No one moves, or this place goes skyway!
~ In the kitchen...~
Narrator: Ditto is standing at the door with binoculars, watching the commotion in the Main Hall from the Kitchen. He's describing the sight to his friends...
Ditto: ... and now he's demanding a getaway car and a strawberry milkshake...
Vorpal: *sitting back in a chair, eyes closed, massaging his forehead* Uh-huh.
Ditto: ...now, he's reading his list of officials he wants fired...
Vorpal: *eyes still closed, still massaging his forehead* Uh-huh.
Suddenly, two men in black suits and dark glasses walk in.
Agent J: Hey, look, K! There's that little alien! *Points at Flutter*
Flutter: Hey! I'm not an alien!
Agent K: Oh, right. I suppose winged turtles are just an endangered species.
Ditto: *running out of the kitchen* He's right! He's just a Para Troopa!
J: I have never heard o’ any Para Troopa!
K: Let's just blast all of them.
Vorpal: Hey! You know, if he's a member of a political party, then he must be a licensed Earthling, right?
K: Sounds reasonable. So?
Ditto: Well, as it turns out, he's a card carrying member of the Mega Mega Extreme Doki Doki Panik Party!
J: Yeah, right! Let's just blast em!
K: Hold on a second, kid. He's right. Let's just let them go.
J: C'mon K! Show me ONE member of this here Doki Doki Panik Party!
Narrator: K smiles at J and reaches for his wallet. Flipping through his credit cards, he pulls out a card that reads...
THIS CARD HEREBY CERTIFIES THAT
K
IS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE MEGA MEGA EXTREME DOKI DOKI PANIK POLITICAL PARTY, WITH ALL RIGHTS, PRIVELEGES, AND DUTIES THEREBY CONFERRED
J: *jaw drops*
K: Let's go kid. By the way, good luck to you guys in November. I'm voting for you.
J: *to K* I didn't know Men In Black could VOTE!
K: It's a wonderful system.
J: Wait! Shouldn't we use those little red light pens to paralyze everyone's brain so they won't remember any of the weird stuff that just happened at the convention tonight?
K: Don't worry, kid. AlGore will be giving his speech soon. That will accomplish the same thing.
*Sure enough, as Gore takes the podium, everyone's eyes begin to glaze over*
Vorpal: Wow that was lucky. Let's get out of here.
Sgt. Flutter: But, we never delivered my... er... that is, OUR speeches!
Ditto: Uh, yeah. What-a-shame-let's-just-go. *Pushes Sarge out the door as they all head out to the truck with all the goodies in it and drive off into the night*