Neo Kervoskia
05-06-2006, 18:16
I haven't written a play since the NS Musical. Here's a piece of what some companions and I are doing. I'll only give you a glimpse.
PLOT: ATF (or later FDA) agents have to stop the blatantly clandestine Imperial Army of Canada from taking over the US with the help of the evil Canadaian pharmaceutical company DynamiCorp by selling drugs to seniors which contain mind-controlling agents.
---------------------------------
NARRATOR:
The year is 1998.
The American health-care system has reached its breaking point, under the influence of thousands of short tons (not metric tons; those suck) of cheap, effective Canadian drugs, smuggled over the border by malevolent, evil senior citizens on tour buses.
The blatantly clandestine Imperial Army of Canada secures the borders, preventing brave U.S. Border Troops from interfering, while the shady organization known as DynamiCorp LLC, Inc., Co., a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner manufactures the drugs using cheap Inuit labor and cheap surplus Soviet chemicals. Because everything Soviet is cheap and surplus. Their base of operations :(menacingly) Newfoundland. No one ever suspects Newfoundland.
The only thing standing in their way: The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, a division of the federal government, which is in turn a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner.
SETTING: INT
The Duluth home of Moira and Alistair Rosenthal. The Rosenthals are about to leave their comfortable home.
MOIRA ROSENTHAL:
Ali, do you have your papers?
ALISTAIR ROSENTHAL:
Do I have my what?
MOIRA:
Your papers.
ALISTAIR:
My what?
MOIRA:
Your papers, do you have your papers?
ALISTAIR:
Yes, I have my papers.
MOIRA:
Then why didn't you answer me before? You can be such a noodge sometimes.
ALISTAIR:
I'm a noodge? Your nagging is one big tsutcheppenish. It drives me so crazy. You hok a chainik.
MOIRA:
Don't talk to ne that way, Ali Rosenthal. Being with you is like being with a putz. All day long I listen to you kvetch.
ALISTAIR:
I don't complain. You're the one who complains all the time. It's enough to make someone fermisht. "Ali, it's too cold. Ali turn down the AC". Put on a goddamn sweater! It's not that difficult.
MOIRA:
Maybe if you didn't turn it all the way down, I wouldn't have to complain.
ALISTAIR:
I keep it at 70. That's reasonable.
MOIRA:
You keep it at 65. That's too cold.
ALISTAIR:
Then put on a sweater! It's not like the cold's a messa masheena. If you were in charge you'd make it as hot as Beth, Israel. You'd keep it at 80 and burn the whole house down.
MOIRA:
Oh, stop it. All of this yelling is making me ferdrayt. Let's just go.
ALISTAIR:
Fine. Let me get my papers.
MOIRA:
I thought you said you had your papers?
ALISTAIR:
I said I knew where they were.
MOIRA:
No, you said you had them.
ALISTAIR:
I know what I said now get in the car! You make me so fertummelt.
MOIRA:
Ah, du alter cocker. I don't know why I married you when I could've married Frankie Weissmench. I heard he runs a jewelry store.
As they are are near the door, ATF agents burst in. This is our first glimpse of AGENT BARBADOS and AGENT ORANGE.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Freeze, ATF!
AGENT ORANGE:
He said freeze! Frosty, motherfuckers!
ALISTAIR:
Oh my G-d!
Alistair reaches for his medication.
AGENT ORANGE:
-inaudible shriek of dismay-
Agent Barbados blasts him. Alistair is now dead.
MOIRA:
Oh my G-d! Stop, you’re gonna get blood aull ovah my new cahpet!
Moira bends down to wipe the blood off with a wet sponge.
AGENT ORANGE:
She’s bending down, take her out!
AGENT BARBADOS:
I’m out of ammo, I used it all on the old man!
Agent Orange walks over to her and snaps her neck.
MOIRA:
Waurruggh!
Moira is now dead.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Good job, Orange, good job!
A brief pause.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Oh, fuck, we forgot the prescriptions!
AGENT ORANGE:
I’ll get them! You go start the car!
AGENT BARBADOS:
Get every prescription! I don’t wanna see a pill missing! Open the bodies if you have to!
<add sound effects>
Agent Orange comes out covered in blood. He’s carrying one bottle of pills.
AGENT ORANGE:
I didn’t know old people bled that much!
AGENT BARBADOS:
What did you do?
AGENT ORANGE:
I shoved my hand up his ass! I found a bottle there!
AGENT BARBADOS:
What does it say?!?
AGENT ORANGE:
…generic…
AGENT BARBADOS:
Are there any pills in there we can analyze?
AGENT ORANGE:
No. The bastard must’ve swallowed ‘em all, ‘n killed himself before we arrived.
AGENT BARBADOS:
…the bastards… Fuck, we can’t get ‘em this time!
Orange’s cellphone rings.
AGENT ORANGE:
(answering his phone)
It’s DIALTONE.
(to phone)
Hello? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO? No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! (throws phone.)
(to BARBADOS, calmly)
He wants us to return to base.
Orange throws the bottle to the ground. From inside the house, we hear, “Oh my G-d!”
Zoom in to the bottle. It reads:
Generic - DynamiCorp.
SETTING: INT
The interior of the DynamiCorp Office, in St. John’s, Newfoundland (Canada). One can hear the loud roar of the heater needed to keep employees alive in this abominably cold locale.
A superfluously large TV is present in this office. Employees are sitting around the conference table.
GELBFARBEN GELBFARBEN, BRIG. GEN. DAX, the secretary LIBBIE, several generic Canadian YES-MEN, and in the background SUPER-KLAUS! are present.
YESMAN 1:
Yes! Yes! Business is up!
YESMAN 2:
You are a genius, Mr. Gelbfarben!
YESMAN 3:
Let me have your baby, Mr. Gelbfarben!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Le korea ben’ horbaale loeie bevuaoi feeaux.
DAX:
Shut up, you God-damn Quebecois!!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Semou buuvaea geroni quois mie desir yinlreaux lu.
DAX:
God-damn it, you fucking useless panty-waist! Why don’t you get a fucking girlfriend?!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) A le’ homoesexu-al quios.
DAX:
Homosexual?!?
GELBFARBEN:
Well, it is Canada, after all.
DAX:
Oh, god-damn it, don’t make no excuse for this fag! Super-Klaus! Kill him!
SUPER-KLAUS!:
(singing) Like wind in the rain and clouds in the sky, I’m going to kill you, because I’m just that much high.
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Le lour la beyoux wa li le eooah!
Exits room. We hear him fall loudly, painfully down the stairs, no doubt to his death.
GELBFARBEN:
Now, let’s get to business.
LIBBIE is typing.
GELBFARBEN:
General Dax. What percentage of our products made it over this month?
DAX:
Over 77% of all shipments.
YESMAN 1:
Truly a prodigious value!
YESMAN 2:
All due to you, Mr. Gelbfarben!
GELBFARBEN:
Only 77%?!? What happened to the other 23?
DAX:
It’s the Americans. The ATF.
GELBFARBEN:
(insert anti-ATF/Dax rant here.)
NARRATOR:
The diminutive Hebrew harridan you see there is Mortimer Silberstein Gelbfarben, the infamous CEO of DynamiCorp LLC, Inc., Co., a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner. A graduate of Julliard at the age of 16, he promptly ordered his parents assassinated, and got away with it. Because he’s Jewish, and you’d kill your parents too. He’s deadly in the arts of
The large, dog-like man there is Brigadier General Mussorgsky Abrams Donatello John Albert Lorenzo Dax, commander of the Royal Majestic Ever-Honorable, Ever-Victorious, Puissant, Omniscient, Ham and Eggs Imperial Army of Canada. Formerly a member of the American Merchant Marine, he mutinied over and over again, each time bringing the vessels he captured to Canada. The U.S. let him get away with it, because, honestly, why the fuck do we still have a Merchant Marine? It’s not fucking 1812.
The woman with spectacular cleavage is Libbie. She’s a secretary, and miraculously is still a virgin.
And, the outlandish ‘80s pop-star there is Super-Klaus!. His hit singles “Dancin’ with Girlie Make Me Invincible” and “Metaphysical Blunderbuss” catapulted him to the top of the 1980s Canadian Pop Music Charts, or the equivalent of the bottom of the American Charts. His subsequent obsession with the high he got from his own ambiguity dropped him to obscurity. As for how he got to where he currently is…that’s a mystery to even the omniscient me. But it could be because GELBFARBEN’s his uncle.
And the Yesmen. GELBFARBEN’s private army. They run his 12 factories, located in Montreal, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Calgary, Quebec, Vancouver, Toronto, Whitehorse, Ottawa, Albuquerque, Regina, and of course the flagship factory in St. John’s. The Yesmen can kill a man with only their bare hands and a gun. They protect GELBFARBEN from the twin dangers of assassination and germs, always stocked with hand sanitizer, fresh mountain air, and Kleenex. Their Iver & Johnson .32 caliber guns are always at the ready, and they are deadly in the art of erotic haberdashery
GELBFARBEN:
(ending his rant) Is that understood?
DAX:
Yes, god-damn it.
GELBFARBEN:
Now, explain the new program to the commissars.
DAX:
Well, I brought this Asian professor. Professor Tomokazu Ohka. From the junior college.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Werr, the chemicars work rike this. It’s highry ‘vance pwocess. We distirr active ‘grident fwom body pawts uf smarr chirdren, particurary cwipplred orphans.
YESMAN 5:
I have an objection! Surely this is immoral!
YESMAN 2:
Shut up. It’s genius!
DAX:
Super-Klaus!!
SUPER-KLAUS!:
High on a mountain with kitties galore
I’m gonna fuck you like a cheap Asian whore! I’m not gonna charge, not gonna bill.
Cau’se I’m psychotic and happy and ready to kill.
Goes instantly to black. Then back to normal, with the corpse of YESMAN 5 on the conference table.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Denk you for creawing dat distur-a-bence. Now, after extwacton pwocess is comprete, we den add rawge qanties of mind-urting dwugs.
GELBFARBEN:
That’s it?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Yes.
GELBFARBEN:
What are the babies for?!
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Dey make easer to digest.
YESMAN 2:
That’s genius!
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Shut up, I know it fucking genius, goddamn it!
GELBFARBEN:
Professor calm down.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Du bist eine grosse dumbkopf! Shut fuck up and ret me speek!
GELBFARBEN:
Alright, go ahead.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
That it.
GELBFARBEN:
Thank you, professor.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
No pwobrem.
PROFESSOR OHKA leaves the office.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
(upon seeing the dead Quebecois at the foot of the stairs) Wa herr dis?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
You have ded body end uh staiws!
GELBFARBEN:
Yes, we know.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Dat der is fucking body end uh staiws?!
GELBFARBEN:
Um, yeah. You know what we do is illegal, right?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Yeah, but no one tord me der wood be fucking ded peopre.
GELBFARBEN:
At least there’s no killing. Just corpses.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Should I carr somebody?
GELBFARBEN:
That won't be necessary. We’ll eat him later.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Okay, werr….good bye den.
We hear a mushy sound as OHKA accidentally steps on YESMAN 4’s corpse.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
(distant) Aw, god-damn it!
Exit OHKA.
GELBFARBEN:
Well… anyone hungry?
SETTING: INT
ATF Headquarters in Utica, NY. They are in a dank, poorly kept kitchen-like room. There is mildew on the walls. The light flickers intermittently. At the front of the table is CELIA CAPPECELLI. AGENT BARBADOS and AGENT ORANGE enter the room and they each sit down.
AGENT ORANGE:
Frosty motherfuckers!
CELIA CAPPECELLI:
What happened?
AGENT ORANGE:
The old bastard ate the pills before we could take samples.
CELIA:
Suicide?
AGENT ORANGE:
Damn right. The old woman bent down with a sponge to soak up the blood. There must be something in it she didn't want us to find.
AGENT KATRINA B. FASO walks in and takes a seat
NARRATOR:
Perhaps she just didn't want her carpet covered in thick, oozing blood.
KATRINA:
Did you manage to get anything?
AGENT ORANGE:
Only an empty bottle and a name.
KATRINA:
Who? Apotex? Warner-Lambert? AstraZeneca Canada?
AGENT ORANGE:
DynamiCorp.
CELIA:
DynamiCorp!
AGENT BARBADOS:
Even worse. The prescription it was...generic.
CELIA:
The madne....
Celia is interrupted and the camera goes to black.
And Now for a Musical interlude! appears on the screen and we go to a green field where klansmen are dancing the Can-can. After thirty seconds of this, the camera returns to the previous scene
CELIA:
That's madness!
KATRINA:
No samples, no evidence. Only a name.
PLOT: ATF (or later FDA) agents have to stop the blatantly clandestine Imperial Army of Canada from taking over the US with the help of the evil Canadaian pharmaceutical company DynamiCorp by selling drugs to seniors which contain mind-controlling agents.
---------------------------------
NARRATOR:
The year is 1998.
The American health-care system has reached its breaking point, under the influence of thousands of short tons (not metric tons; those suck) of cheap, effective Canadian drugs, smuggled over the border by malevolent, evil senior citizens on tour buses.
The blatantly clandestine Imperial Army of Canada secures the borders, preventing brave U.S. Border Troops from interfering, while the shady organization known as DynamiCorp LLC, Inc., Co., a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner manufactures the drugs using cheap Inuit labor and cheap surplus Soviet chemicals. Because everything Soviet is cheap and surplus. Their base of operations :(menacingly) Newfoundland. No one ever suspects Newfoundland.
The only thing standing in their way: The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, a division of the federal government, which is in turn a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner.
SETTING: INT
The Duluth home of Moira and Alistair Rosenthal. The Rosenthals are about to leave their comfortable home.
MOIRA ROSENTHAL:
Ali, do you have your papers?
ALISTAIR ROSENTHAL:
Do I have my what?
MOIRA:
Your papers.
ALISTAIR:
My what?
MOIRA:
Your papers, do you have your papers?
ALISTAIR:
Yes, I have my papers.
MOIRA:
Then why didn't you answer me before? You can be such a noodge sometimes.
ALISTAIR:
I'm a noodge? Your nagging is one big tsutcheppenish. It drives me so crazy. You hok a chainik.
MOIRA:
Don't talk to ne that way, Ali Rosenthal. Being with you is like being with a putz. All day long I listen to you kvetch.
ALISTAIR:
I don't complain. You're the one who complains all the time. It's enough to make someone fermisht. "Ali, it's too cold. Ali turn down the AC". Put on a goddamn sweater! It's not that difficult.
MOIRA:
Maybe if you didn't turn it all the way down, I wouldn't have to complain.
ALISTAIR:
I keep it at 70. That's reasonable.
MOIRA:
You keep it at 65. That's too cold.
ALISTAIR:
Then put on a sweater! It's not like the cold's a messa masheena. If you were in charge you'd make it as hot as Beth, Israel. You'd keep it at 80 and burn the whole house down.
MOIRA:
Oh, stop it. All of this yelling is making me ferdrayt. Let's just go.
ALISTAIR:
Fine. Let me get my papers.
MOIRA:
I thought you said you had your papers?
ALISTAIR:
I said I knew where they were.
MOIRA:
No, you said you had them.
ALISTAIR:
I know what I said now get in the car! You make me so fertummelt.
MOIRA:
Ah, du alter cocker. I don't know why I married you when I could've married Frankie Weissmench. I heard he runs a jewelry store.
As they are are near the door, ATF agents burst in. This is our first glimpse of AGENT BARBADOS and AGENT ORANGE.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Freeze, ATF!
AGENT ORANGE:
He said freeze! Frosty, motherfuckers!
ALISTAIR:
Oh my G-d!
Alistair reaches for his medication.
AGENT ORANGE:
-inaudible shriek of dismay-
Agent Barbados blasts him. Alistair is now dead.
MOIRA:
Oh my G-d! Stop, you’re gonna get blood aull ovah my new cahpet!
Moira bends down to wipe the blood off with a wet sponge.
AGENT ORANGE:
She’s bending down, take her out!
AGENT BARBADOS:
I’m out of ammo, I used it all on the old man!
Agent Orange walks over to her and snaps her neck.
MOIRA:
Waurruggh!
Moira is now dead.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Good job, Orange, good job!
A brief pause.
AGENT BARBADOS:
Oh, fuck, we forgot the prescriptions!
AGENT ORANGE:
I’ll get them! You go start the car!
AGENT BARBADOS:
Get every prescription! I don’t wanna see a pill missing! Open the bodies if you have to!
<add sound effects>
Agent Orange comes out covered in blood. He’s carrying one bottle of pills.
AGENT ORANGE:
I didn’t know old people bled that much!
AGENT BARBADOS:
What did you do?
AGENT ORANGE:
I shoved my hand up his ass! I found a bottle there!
AGENT BARBADOS:
What does it say?!?
AGENT ORANGE:
…generic…
AGENT BARBADOS:
Are there any pills in there we can analyze?
AGENT ORANGE:
No. The bastard must’ve swallowed ‘em all, ‘n killed himself before we arrived.
AGENT BARBADOS:
…the bastards… Fuck, we can’t get ‘em this time!
Orange’s cellphone rings.
AGENT ORANGE:
(answering his phone)
It’s DIALTONE.
(to phone)
Hello? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO? No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! (throws phone.)
(to BARBADOS, calmly)
He wants us to return to base.
Orange throws the bottle to the ground. From inside the house, we hear, “Oh my G-d!”
Zoom in to the bottle. It reads:
Generic - DynamiCorp.
SETTING: INT
The interior of the DynamiCorp Office, in St. John’s, Newfoundland (Canada). One can hear the loud roar of the heater needed to keep employees alive in this abominably cold locale.
A superfluously large TV is present in this office. Employees are sitting around the conference table.
GELBFARBEN GELBFARBEN, BRIG. GEN. DAX, the secretary LIBBIE, several generic Canadian YES-MEN, and in the background SUPER-KLAUS! are present.
YESMAN 1:
Yes! Yes! Business is up!
YESMAN 2:
You are a genius, Mr. Gelbfarben!
YESMAN 3:
Let me have your baby, Mr. Gelbfarben!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Le korea ben’ horbaale loeie bevuaoi feeaux.
DAX:
Shut up, you God-damn Quebecois!!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Semou buuvaea geroni quois mie desir yinlreaux lu.
DAX:
God-damn it, you fucking useless panty-waist! Why don’t you get a fucking girlfriend?!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) A le’ homoesexu-al quios.
DAX:
Homosexual?!?
GELBFARBEN:
Well, it is Canada, after all.
DAX:
Oh, god-damn it, don’t make no excuse for this fag! Super-Klaus! Kill him!
SUPER-KLAUS!:
(singing) Like wind in the rain and clouds in the sky, I’m going to kill you, because I’m just that much high.
YESMAN 4:
(Frenchly) Le lour la beyoux wa li le eooah!
Exits room. We hear him fall loudly, painfully down the stairs, no doubt to his death.
GELBFARBEN:
Now, let’s get to business.
LIBBIE is typing.
GELBFARBEN:
General Dax. What percentage of our products made it over this month?
DAX:
Over 77% of all shipments.
YESMAN 1:
Truly a prodigious value!
YESMAN 2:
All due to you, Mr. Gelbfarben!
GELBFARBEN:
Only 77%?!? What happened to the other 23?
DAX:
It’s the Americans. The ATF.
GELBFARBEN:
(insert anti-ATF/Dax rant here.)
NARRATOR:
The diminutive Hebrew harridan you see there is Mortimer Silberstein Gelbfarben, the infamous CEO of DynamiCorp LLC, Inc., Co., a division of TD Ameritrade and AOL Time Warner. A graduate of Julliard at the age of 16, he promptly ordered his parents assassinated, and got away with it. Because he’s Jewish, and you’d kill your parents too. He’s deadly in the arts of
The large, dog-like man there is Brigadier General Mussorgsky Abrams Donatello John Albert Lorenzo Dax, commander of the Royal Majestic Ever-Honorable, Ever-Victorious, Puissant, Omniscient, Ham and Eggs Imperial Army of Canada. Formerly a member of the American Merchant Marine, he mutinied over and over again, each time bringing the vessels he captured to Canada. The U.S. let him get away with it, because, honestly, why the fuck do we still have a Merchant Marine? It’s not fucking 1812.
The woman with spectacular cleavage is Libbie. She’s a secretary, and miraculously is still a virgin.
And, the outlandish ‘80s pop-star there is Super-Klaus!. His hit singles “Dancin’ with Girlie Make Me Invincible” and “Metaphysical Blunderbuss” catapulted him to the top of the 1980s Canadian Pop Music Charts, or the equivalent of the bottom of the American Charts. His subsequent obsession with the high he got from his own ambiguity dropped him to obscurity. As for how he got to where he currently is…that’s a mystery to even the omniscient me. But it could be because GELBFARBEN’s his uncle.
And the Yesmen. GELBFARBEN’s private army. They run his 12 factories, located in Montreal, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Calgary, Quebec, Vancouver, Toronto, Whitehorse, Ottawa, Albuquerque, Regina, and of course the flagship factory in St. John’s. The Yesmen can kill a man with only their bare hands and a gun. They protect GELBFARBEN from the twin dangers of assassination and germs, always stocked with hand sanitizer, fresh mountain air, and Kleenex. Their Iver & Johnson .32 caliber guns are always at the ready, and they are deadly in the art of erotic haberdashery
GELBFARBEN:
(ending his rant) Is that understood?
DAX:
Yes, god-damn it.
GELBFARBEN:
Now, explain the new program to the commissars.
DAX:
Well, I brought this Asian professor. Professor Tomokazu Ohka. From the junior college.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Werr, the chemicars work rike this. It’s highry ‘vance pwocess. We distirr active ‘grident fwom body pawts uf smarr chirdren, particurary cwipplred orphans.
YESMAN 5:
I have an objection! Surely this is immoral!
YESMAN 2:
Shut up. It’s genius!
DAX:
Super-Klaus!!
SUPER-KLAUS!:
High on a mountain with kitties galore
I’m gonna fuck you like a cheap Asian whore! I’m not gonna charge, not gonna bill.
Cau’se I’m psychotic and happy and ready to kill.
Goes instantly to black. Then back to normal, with the corpse of YESMAN 5 on the conference table.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Denk you for creawing dat distur-a-bence. Now, after extwacton pwocess is comprete, we den add rawge qanties of mind-urting dwugs.
GELBFARBEN:
That’s it?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Yes.
GELBFARBEN:
What are the babies for?!
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Dey make easer to digest.
YESMAN 2:
That’s genius!
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Shut up, I know it fucking genius, goddamn it!
GELBFARBEN:
Professor calm down.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Du bist eine grosse dumbkopf! Shut fuck up and ret me speek!
GELBFARBEN:
Alright, go ahead.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
That it.
GELBFARBEN:
Thank you, professor.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
No pwobrem.
PROFESSOR OHKA leaves the office.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
(upon seeing the dead Quebecois at the foot of the stairs) Wa herr dis?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
You have ded body end uh staiws!
GELBFARBEN:
Yes, we know.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Dat der is fucking body end uh staiws?!
GELBFARBEN:
Um, yeah. You know what we do is illegal, right?
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Yeah, but no one tord me der wood be fucking ded peopre.
GELBFARBEN:
At least there’s no killing. Just corpses.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Should I carr somebody?
GELBFARBEN:
That won't be necessary. We’ll eat him later.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
Okay, werr….good bye den.
We hear a mushy sound as OHKA accidentally steps on YESMAN 4’s corpse.
PROFESSOR OHKA:
(distant) Aw, god-damn it!
Exit OHKA.
GELBFARBEN:
Well… anyone hungry?
SETTING: INT
ATF Headquarters in Utica, NY. They are in a dank, poorly kept kitchen-like room. There is mildew on the walls. The light flickers intermittently. At the front of the table is CELIA CAPPECELLI. AGENT BARBADOS and AGENT ORANGE enter the room and they each sit down.
AGENT ORANGE:
Frosty motherfuckers!
CELIA CAPPECELLI:
What happened?
AGENT ORANGE:
The old bastard ate the pills before we could take samples.
CELIA:
Suicide?
AGENT ORANGE:
Damn right. The old woman bent down with a sponge to soak up the blood. There must be something in it she didn't want us to find.
AGENT KATRINA B. FASO walks in and takes a seat
NARRATOR:
Perhaps she just didn't want her carpet covered in thick, oozing blood.
KATRINA:
Did you manage to get anything?
AGENT ORANGE:
Only an empty bottle and a name.
KATRINA:
Who? Apotex? Warner-Lambert? AstraZeneca Canada?
AGENT ORANGE:
DynamiCorp.
CELIA:
DynamiCorp!
AGENT BARBADOS:
Even worse. The prescription it was...generic.
CELIA:
The madne....
Celia is interrupted and the camera goes to black.
And Now for a Musical interlude! appears on the screen and we go to a green field where klansmen are dancing the Can-can. After thirty seconds of this, the camera returns to the previous scene
CELIA:
That's madness!
KATRINA:
No samples, no evidence. Only a name.