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(Computerish sounds... ominous CIA music)
Narrator: Somewhere in Washington, in a secret room, in a secret building, someone very secret is monitoring a secret sattelite feed... shh! Secret guy: dum te dum... Great God Alfresco! (phone being picked up) Get me General Zitzpopf... Stat! General Z: Dum te dum (phone ringing)General Zitzpopf... Great Ceasar's salad! Get me the President! (Sound of hand knocking on door) Bill Clinton: It's open... (door opens. footsteps) Aide: Mister president, sir, I've got a report from Deep Secret Codebase MJ-12 Omega Artichoke. Bill Clinton: Oh, this can't be good. Aide: It's worse than that, sir. Sattelite photos confirm it; I'm afraid there can be no doubt. Bill C: You mean? Aide: That's right, sir. Hippies. (Mister Roger's Hippie Neighbors theme music) (hippie pad theme) Announcer: Somewhere in Smallville USA, right next door to Mister Rogerz, as a matter of fact... Moonbane: Aha! I've got it! I've got it now! We'll be crazy rich I tell you! Hahahaahaa! Cordelia: What now? Moonbane: Oh, you're gonna love this; forget all the ideas I had in the past; forget "Let's bottle our own wine", forget "let's fake our deaths"; forget "let's make our own fireworks"... Dreamer: That was great! Star: Except for the... Moonbane: I said forget it! Especially forget that! No, those ideas, while theoretically sound... Cordelia: Mmm-hmmm... Moonbane: ... were less than spectacular in practice... Cordelia: Oh, I'd say the fireworks was spectacular. Moonbane: Well, those ideas, brilliant but flawed though they were, were all just preliminaries to this, which I will humbly and modestly proclaim the greatest idea in the history of the universe! Cordelia: Smarter than God, you are, Moonbane...but only a little. Dreamer: What's your idea, Moonbane? Star: Yeah, come on, I've got some pottery in the kiln. Moonbane: Okay, dig this: you know how suddenly literature is like, popular again? You know, Jane Austen and Shakespeare; they're making more movies than Steve Buscemi. Star: Phhh! Now you're exaggerating. Moonbane: Well, my idea is simple and pure as a Montana skyline... Cordelia: You've never been to Montana. Moonbane: Y'see America is happy to be literate, as long as it doesn't involve opening a book, so we take advantage of this lite n' racy literacy by applying it to its most natural medium: television. Star: Sum up please. We know you love to hear yourself talk. Moonbane: In a nutcase, here it is: Litcoms. (Groans, disbelief, etc.) Moonbane: You scoff, you chortle, but I hold in my hand the future of literate, thinking man's television; I hold in my hand the script for the pilot of the first of this brave new breed of hit TV show. Read it and weep... with laughter. Cordelia: 'The Bronte Bunch'? (military music) Announcer: Meanwhile, back at the White House... Bill C: How can we be sure? I mean, hippies? I thought they were quietly snuffed under Reagan! Aide: We all did, sir, but these photos confirm it. See this? We believe it's a Volkswagon microbus. Bill C: Holy all Deppity Dawg! Aide: And this would be a statue of Jerry Garcia, apparently made out of bark mulch. Bill C: Bill Weld's got one of those... Aide: And here's a macrame hammock. See how the lawn is growing through it? Bill C: I see. But where's the pot plants? It's not a hippie pad without you have your pot plants. Aide: Well, we didn't see any outside. They seem to have some sort of trouble with the ground, nothing grows but mushrooms; so we used this special camera, that detects the radiation given off by marijuana plants being grown indoors. The results were very interesting. (papers beiing shuffled) Here's the house under a normal lens... (papers being shuffled) And here's the Special Marijuana detector camera... (sound like Rudolph's nose glowing) Bill C.: Jesus H Thelma and Louise! That hurts my eyes! well, you convinced me, boy. Aide: Shall we send in a special op team to neutralize them? I can heve an unmarked black helicopter there in half an hour... Bill: That won't be necessary. I'll handle this job personally. Aide: You mean... Bill: That's right. Project Paraquat. I'm taking in the Green Team. Aide (all choked up): You know, the Republicans that say you're too soft on drugs; if they could only see this side of you, going in personallly to take care of this problem. Bill: But they can never know. This must remain above top secret. Now if you'll leave me, I have a team to assemble! Aide: Good luck, sir. And God bless you. (footsteps. Door closing. Phone being picked up) Bill: Get the vice president on the phone. (sound of phone dialing. Receiver picked up.) Al: Hello?
Bill: Al it's Bill... Al: Bill? Bill: Bill Clinton, Al Al: Bill? Bill: That's right, Al, it's me, President Clinton! Al: Bill's not here, man. (giggling) Bill: (sigh) Al, that was funny the first couple of times, but it's really gettin' old, ok? I gotta assemble the Green team right away. Al: Green Team! Aye, aye, right away sir! (Al hangs up phone, picks it up again) Tipper? It's Al. Uncover the Green Signal! Tipper: Yippee! Announcer: At a nearby golf course... Golf Announcer: And Mister Quayle tightens his grip on the putter. The concentration! He readies his shot... he putts... Oh! It's no good! Quayle: Damn windmill! Golf Announcer: There's a commotion in the crowd.... everyone's looking at... some sort of signal in the sky... Well, I'll be damned... Mr. Quayle has disappeared! Announcer: And, at the Supreme Courthouse... Clarence: And I was saying, Missy, there's literally bazillions of examples of case law to show that free speech is bad... Missy: Here's that coke you ordered, Justice Thomas. What's that out the window, in the sky? It looks like... a giant pot leaf, projected against a cloud bank! Clarence: The Green Signal! Missy: What do you think it means, Justice Thomas? Justice Thomas? (hippie music again) Moonbane: Okay, so are we all cool with this? We're going to test the script in front of an audience, and their gales of laughter will prove to you once and for all that I am correct as always. Star: The script is funny and smart, Moonie, but.... Dreamer: I don't get all the jokes. Cordelia: It may be over some peoples' heads. It's probably over yours. Moonbane: I've got a way to test that. We'll get the audience so stoned that their IQs drop a good thirty points and see if they still laugh. Cordelia: Yes, let's try to make stoned people laugh. There's a test for Heracles! Moonbane: Okay, screw science! Let's just do it for the hell of it! (everyone assents)(Song: "Do it for the Halibut") (military music) Announcer: Meanwhile, in a top secret white house briefing room... v Bill: You all lnow why we're here, people. But for exposition's sake I'll explain it anyway. I formed the Green Team for one purpose and one purpose only: so that important public figures such as ourselves can put aside our political differences and unite in the service of a common cause; and that cause is... Everyone: To get wasted! Bill: That's right, people. Though our position prevents us from enjoying it, we all love the herb. So when the oppurtunity to enjoy some serious doobage arises, we have to grab onto it with both hands and twist. We will disguise ourselves, head to the target address, and party hearty. (everyone cheers) Bill: Now I want to say a few things about the disguises you've put together. The idea here is NOT to look ridiculous, people! Look at me. Big thick old nerdboy glasses, and a fake mustache. Top it off with a bowler hat, and voila! I'm Jeeves the Englishman. Cheerio, tip tip, wot's all this then? Tipper: Sakes alive it's Mary Poppins! Bill:That's right Tipper, you see how... Clarence: Eh wot, that is a bit of a sticky wicket! Al: You will get a SHRUBBERY! Dan: Always after me lucky charms! Bill: Alll right, that's enough! Jiminy Crispix! What I was trying to say was, the key to a good disguise is simplicity! Subtlty! Not to call attention to yourself. I don't know what you were thinking with those dreadlocks, Al. And Dan; a Halloween mask, fer the love of Bosco! Dan: I'm Casper! Bill: And Tipper, a stripper? That's a good disguise, I guess; no one'll be looking at your face. I never said this to a stripper before, but baby, put it back on! Tipper: Lawsuit! Bill: Hey, easy there sister. I kid, I josh. Now, Clarence, I don't know what you're supposed to be. Are you a spy ? Shaft? Clarence: Hey, Shaft is one bad - Bill: Shut your mouth! Clarence (sulking): I was merely talking about Shaft. Bill: Well, you look like Link from the Mod Squad. Clarence: Cool! Bill: Now, the most important thing about any disguise is the walk. People are easily identified by their style of walking; change that and zippo! you're new man. Or woman. Y'all saw that Usual Suspects movie? All (assent) Bill: That ther Kaiser Sosay, he walked with a limp and nobody knew who he was. It was a hoot. That was Kevin Spacey. I love that name. Spacey. Tipper: Ahem! Bill: Oh yeah. Now watch me. See how I'm stiffening my shoulders just a little. You'd never know it was me, even without the dee-skise. You'd say, "where'd the president go?" Why are you giggling Dan? Something you'd like to share with the rest of us? Dan (giggling): You look like Charlie Chaplin. Bill: Fine. Everyone sees me, they thiink, "Chaplin!" not Clinton. See? Good disguise. Now let's see you guys try. Not too much, people! Dan, you look like you're ready for Monty Python. Tipper, maybe sashay a little more. Not you Clarence! Jeez, you'll never get in the army like that! Clarence: Don't ask! Bill: Now, pseudonyms. That means, fake names, Dan. Dan: Thanks! Bill. Again, simple is the operative word here. Like me, I'm going by a name that's similar to mine so that it's easy to remember, especially if I'm wasted, but different enough to fool the simple. Al Clanton. Get it? Bill Clinton.... Al Clanton. Pretty Sweet, eh? Now, let's hear some pseudonyms! Dan? Dan: Dan Quayle. Bill: No, I mean your pseudonym, fake name. Dan: Dan Quayle. Bill: No, Dan, that's your real name. C'mon! Dan: My real name is J. Danforth Quayle. See! Bill: Well, you got me there. Sheeoot! (hippie music) Announcer: Meanwhile, back at the Hippie Pad... Moonbane: OK, we're a little short on cast members. Now, Windhawk, you'll be Charlotte, and Cordelia will, of course, be Emily. Cordelia: Of course. Moonbane: Bongdog will be Emily's Mastiff, Keeper... Bongdog: Rrrokay! Moonbane: Devilcat will play the other house animals. Devilcat: A goood channcce to sssshow my rrrrange. Dreamer: What about me? What about me? Moonbane: I shall, of course, play the brooding, misspent genius brother Branwell... Cordelia: Phhhh! Dreamer: Me! What about me! Moonbane: Well, I was thinking you could play the younger sister, Anne... Dreamer: What!? A girl! Moonbane: It's a chance to stretch, to show your range... Devilcat: (laughs) Dreamer: Really? Moonbane: Trust me, you'll be great. Now, we need someone to play Patrick, patriarch of the clan... Dreamer: Me! Me! Moonbane: Oh, I'm sorry, Dreamer, you've already been cast. Hey! How 'bout the perfessor? Star: Oh, sure, like you'll ever get him out of the basement. It's been months? Cordelia: Are you sure he's still alive? Moonbane: Well, there is a weird stench coming from the basement, but it's a lively sort of stink. Dreamer: He told me he was developing a new type of psychedelic... Everyone: Ooooh! Moonbane: Let's see if he'll come up anyway. Cordelia? Cordelia: A trip to the basement? Be still my heart. I mean that. Moonbane: As a backup plan, why don't you see if you can get the Admiral to come over, Dreamer. Dreamer: Oh come on! Go back to the Admiral's place? No way! He gives me the creeps! Moonbane: While Dreamer's checking in with the Admiral, I'll make some calls, get together an audience. All our friends. Star: Are you going to tell them about the play? Moonbane: Are you crazy? I'll tell 'em there's free drugs. They'll sit through anything for free drugs. Cordelia: We'll soon see if that is, indeed, true. Announcer: Meanwhile, in a limousine outside Washington D. C.... Bill: Will you speed up, Al! Squeeze Parkay, but you drive like an old lady! Al: There's nothing to be ashamed of in driving safely. Bill: Drive slow on your own time, I wanna get to the weed! Tipper: Hear, hear. Al: I might speed up if you refer to me by my code name. Bill: Ahh, cripes, Al, do I have to even say it? Al: I don't know any Al. Do you see any Als in here, Tip - I mean, Lady Sauvage? Tipper: Nope, no Als here. Tee hee. Clarence: Yes there is! Al Clanton, remember? Bill: Thanks, Clar - I mean, Baaadaasss Charlie. Clarence: You're welcome, Mister Clanton. Bill: See? He's got the hang of it, Al. Al? Al? Oh, all right! Can you speed it up, Moustapphha ben Azzeel. Al: Right away, sir! Announcer: Back at the pad, atop the celler steps. (weird creepy theremin music) Cordelia: Perfesser! It's Cordelia. Perfesser: (Hoarse voice from the shadows) Cordelia? Cordelia: Yes, you know, from the world above, where there is night and day and seasons... Perfesser: I know who you are! I've not lost track of time! I'm just in the middle of something. Like I told you yesterday... Cordelia: I haven't beem down here for two months. Perfesser: Oh? Must have been an hallucination. Better tone down the dioxybromicylamine in the next batch. Note to self. Cordelia: Moonie's putting together a play and wants you to be in it. You play Patrick Bronte. Perfesser: Well. I'm indeed flattered. But I haven't the time. I'm a a crucial juncture in my latest experiment. Plus Xena's on AOL tonight! Cordelia: One must have one's priorities. Well, that's out of the way... whatcha been working on? Perfesser: I am so glad you asked. Come! Have a looksee. Cordelia: Wow! It glows! Perfesser: What you see in that black orb there is just the most powerful psychedelic ever created... don't stand too close! Cordelia: Wow! I see what you mean! Stop growing heads for a moment and talk to me. The most powerful psychedelic ever developed? Perfesser: Yep, all you have to do is get near it and you're tripping your mind out. No icky brews, shuddery paper, or tiresome suppositories. And the closer you get the heavier you trip. Stand here for a minute... Cordelia: Yeep! What happened to the floor It's disapperared! Perfesser: Oh, it'll do that. And ignore the extraterrestrials. They're harmless. Just don't feed them or they'll never leave you alone. Announcer: Meanwhile, up the street, near the dire bog... (creepy tinkly piano music) Dreamer: I can't believe I have to do this I told him I didn't wanna "It's creepy" iI said but he laughed he laughed they all laughed "go Dreamer, go" but I didn't wanna I can't believe I have to... (Wolf howls in the distance) Dreamer: Eeeep! I do believe in spooks I do believe in spooks... Announcer: Admiral Wallaby has fallen on hard times since the cancellation of his TV show. In fact, some say that he has gone mad; others, that he has simply fallen into a mire of profound melancholia. Let's join Dreamer as he visits the Admiral's place and see for ourselves, shall we? Dreamer: I've got a better idea: You guys go on ahead, Dreamer will go home and `bong himself off to wonderland. Bye! Announcer: Now, now, you know that's not the way it works. Just go on, pretend we're not here. Dreamer: Ahh, nuts. Owww! Watch it! Announcer: Sorry! (Dreamer knocks on door. It opens with a looonnngg creak) Dreamer: Hello? Admiral? Anybody? Hello? Where is everybody? Do you know where the Admiral is, Grandfather Clock? Clock: Get out. Dreamer: Heyy, you're pretty rude. Clock: Leave now if you value your soul. Dreamer: You are one cranky old clock, do you know that? Lighten up! Clock: You are doomed, you are - ahh, what's the use. The Admiral's in the other room. Dreamer: Thanks, man! Clock: Ehh! Dreamer: Admiral? Admiral: Is that a voice I hear, a human tone piercing these dank walls of silence with which I have surrounded myself? Could it be a visitor, entreating entry into my sepulcher of despair? Yes! Yes, it is a guest, a friend, a neighbor. If you have come to borrow a cup of sugar, I'm afraid all I have is dust. But are we more than that, after all? Dreamer: It's me, Dreamer, Admiral. Admiral: Dreamer? Oh, from up the street, where the sun shines and flowers bloom, far, so far from this vale of gloom. Have you come to share your light with this broken soul before you? Alas, like a collapsed star my sorrow-choked world swallows up light and gives forth only darkness. Keep your light with you, young friend, waste it not on me. Dreamer: Moonbane's putting on a play, and he wants you to be in it. Admiral: A play! To act again, to stand before the footlights giving life to a character; merest heaven! Yes, I shall do it! Am I to play Lear, Macbeth, Richard the third? Dreamer: You play 'Dad' in 'The Bronte Bunch'. Admiral: Splendid! When do we rehearse? Dreamer: I dunno. Now, I guess. Moonie wasn't big on the details. Admiral: I shall arrive forth with. Oh, by the way; will there be balm in Gilead, Nepenthe for my tortured soul? Dreamer: No, but there's always some righteous weed. Admiral: I suspect it shall serve. To the boards! Dreamer: Yeah, okay, whatever. Announcer: Meanwhile, at a nearby gas-n-go... Bill C: Now, while Al gasses up, the plan is for us to load up on the munchies, 'cause Lord knows what horrible stuff those hippies are likely to have around. Tofu dogs, veggie burgers; it makes me sick as a deer-ticked hound dog just thinking about it. Hey! Here's the twinkies. Grab a couple twelve packs, Clarence. Clarence: Here's some little Debbies! Bill: All right! Gimme some o' them Star Crunches! Clarence: And nutty bars! Bill: You know, you're all right! Dan: Hey! Lookit this! Pez! Bill: Aww, Pez is a pain in the ass! You gotta load them in that little toy, half the time you drop 'em all over, then what you do get loaded lasts about as long as the keg at a Kennedy bar-b-q. Dan: But it's Chewbacca! Clarence: Get the Stormtrooper, I hear they're pretty rare. Could be worth sump'n! Dan: I like chewbacca! Bill: All right, we'll get the Stormtrooper AND the wookie. And Darth Vader for me. Everybody happy? Clarence: Better pick up a Yoda for Al. Announcer: And, in case you were wondering, let's take a look-see what's going on over at Mister Rogerzes. (tinkly happy music) Mr. Rogerz: Hello boys and girls. I've got a special treat for you today... we're going to have a guest here in the neighborhood, someone very special, and very, very important. His name's Mister George Bush, and he used to be the President of the United States. That's a very big, very hard job, so hard that they won't let anyone do it for more than a couple of years at a time. Some of your mommies and daddies may have even voted for Mister George Bush. Can you imagine what it must be like to be president, making decisions, making speeches, running the country? Just think about it, maybe you could be president when you're all grown... (doorbell)What the...? Maybe Mister Former President Bush is a little early; but you've got to be one jump ahead of everybody else when you're the president, or else there'll be a coup d'etat. That's a French word! (door opening) Hello Mister Former Presi - oh, it' s you. Star: Hi, Mister Rogerz! It's Starraven from next door! I fed your fish last fall when you were on vacation. Remember? Rogerz: Believe me, I remember you. I came back and the fish were all floating... floating a foot above the tank! Star: Yeah, I made them some special food. How were they when they came down? Rogerz: Well, the guppies revolted and formed a people's guppublic; the goldfish insited on being called "Clearlightfish" thereafter; the catfish had an existential crisis and grew his whiskers out; I could just go on and on. How could you do that to my poor little fish? Star: They were being repressed. Rogerz: Repressed! Why - sputter, mutter, fume, etc. Star: Anyhoo, I came to see if you wanted to come over to our big shindig. Moonie's premiering his latest masterpiece. Rogerz: Christ no! I shudder to think... not like last time, not again... it was so horrible... Star: Oh, it wasn't so bad as all that. See! Your hair all grew back. And it's mostly the same color as before. Rogerz: Well, I simply can't come. We're expecting a guest. Star: Anyone I know? Rogerz: (too quickly) No! Just some average Joe. Not a former president or anything like that. Star: As if! (White House music) Announcer: Meanwhile, back at the white house... Hillary: Bill? Oh, Bill? I've got some tile patterns for you to look at? (silence) Now where the hell is that bastard?...(sound of buttons being pressed) Computer? Computer: Working... Hillary: Find and identify location of Clinton, Bill. President. Computer: Working... Secretary's voice: Mrs. Clinton? Sam Donaldson's on line five; something about the list of mysterious deaths of witnesses to the President's pecadillos... Hillary: Christ! Not that again! Tell that furry-eyed (bleep) he can kiss my (bleep)... (phone being picked up) Sam! How nice to hear from you! I was just baking some cookies. What? Oh, yes., I had heard about that. Those conspiracy nuts just don't rest, do they! I wish we had a few like them on the payroll, ha ha! Seriously, Sam, you can't give credence to something like this; let's face it, a large majority of people connected to my husband are still alive! (pause)Oh, I don't imagine that there could be that many... fifty, you say? That is a lot... if they were connected, which they're not. Listen, Sam, if people really were being assassinated for knowing too much, doesn't it strike you that maybe that's not such a productive avenue of investigation? Like, that it might be, say, dangerous? There's so much else going on around here to report on, why dwell on what some crazy right wing "kooks" have to say? Socks has learned a new trick! That'd make a great... Threatening you? Now, Sam, you know I don't make threats... well, interperet that any way you like... fine, Sam, fine. He can hear a can opener from any room in the White House... it's the cutest thing! Sure, have a crew here tomorrow. See you then! (hangs up phone) Computer? Computer: Working... Hillary: Where is President Clinton? Computer: He's in a limosine. Trajectory: Smallville, USA. Associates: Gore, Gore, Quayle, Thomas... Hillary: The (bleep)in' Green Team! I told him to cut that (bleep) out! (picks up phone) Miss Togar! Send in Team Viper! (hangs up) Hmmm. Computer? Computer: Working... Hillary: Work me up a "Suicide Profile" on Sam Donaldson. Just in case. Computer: With pleasure.... (hippie music) Admiral: The rain in spain falls mainly on the plain. The rain insane falls mainly on my pain. The insane pain flows mainly from my brain. My bane is pain, the stain flows from my vein. My brain! My brain! Star: I wish he'd stop that. Cordelia: I feign disdain. Admiral: Just excercising my voice, miladies, my voice that has been so still for so long. The grave I crave, my soul to save. Moonie: All right, listen up, people! The audience will be here momentarily. We haven't had much in the way of rehearsal, but we have talent! We have will! We have a script that positively ripples with radiance! We shall dazzle them, we shall send them to undreamed-of plateaus of Thespian delight. Stop snickering, Dreamer! Cordelia! Give me back my beret! Cordelia: No, I don't think I shall. Star: You'll just have to grin and... beret. Dreamer: Hahahaha! Star: Cordelia! Give me back my fedora! Cordelia: First make a pun on 'Fedora'. Star: Ummm, uhhh... Moonie: Ahhh cripes! "Look at me, I'm fedorable!" Now take the hat back! Star: I would have thought of that, you know. Cordelia: You're still not getting yours back, moonie.. Moonie: I can be just as pretentious without it, watch and see! Cordelia: Well, duh! Moonie: All right people! Once again, we have had no practice, we don't know our lines, and the blocking hasn't been worked out; but we can do it, people! We've got what it takes to put on a terrific show! With me, everyone! Out with the bad air... (sound of everybody exhaling) Moonie: And in with the good air! (sound of everyubody taking a monster toke) Announcer: And, back at the White House (one more time)... (spy music) Hillary: Welcome, mein freunds. It's been a long time since we've met here in the Viper's Nest. Once again, we have... a situation. Intelligence indicates that Citizen Bubba, in tandem with Stiff 'n' Bloody, Bloody Mary, John Q. Pubic and... oh hell, I can never remember Quayle's (bleep)in' code name. Agent X: Li'l Birdie. Agent Y: No, that was Bush. Agent X: I'm certain it was Quayle. Get it? Birdie... Quayle... Agent y: No, that's too obvious, so we made it Bush, 'cause he golfs. "Birdie"? It's a golf term. Agent X: No that's too hard to remember. I'm sure... Hillary: (whacks table loudly with riding crop) It doesn't matter! I don't want a repeat of that Agents Who, What and Where business! "Who's got the explosive? What. I said, who's got the explosive? What. I don't give a (bleep)! Third base!" Agent X: Of course not, Hillary... Hillary: (Smacks him) Code names! Agent X: I m-mean "of course not, Madame Serpent" Hilllary: Better. Now, our previous missions have been largely successful; anyone who threatens our plans has been quietly eliminated, with little suspicion falling on us. This current situation is a bit trickier than most: the president is about to place himself in a compromising situation if front of a large number of witnesses. They will need to be eliminated quietly and effeiciently, with a minimum of collatoral damage. Agent Y: Couldn't we just assume that no one will ever believe them if they say they partied with the president? I mean, it's a bunch of hippies, fer cripes' sake. Hillary: You mean, "just let them be. Let them own their groovieness."? You know that's not the way we do things around here! Understood? Agent Y: Understood! Hillary (musing): When I was a little girl, I asked my mother, "What will I be?" She gave me some of that "Que sera, sera" (bleep), so I said "I'm going to be Queen of America". She laughed and said "America doesn't have a queen! America's a democracy" and I said "we'll just have to see about that!" Ha, ha,we'll just have to see about that... Agent X: Madam Serpent? Hillary: Get me my Harley! I'll handle this problem myself! (Sound of Harley revving - Hillary Clinton theme music) Dan: 98 Bottles of beer on the wall... Tipper: Dan, give it a rest! Dan: 98 bottles of beer... Clarence: Yeah, c'mon, Dan... Dan: Take one down, pass it around.... (silence) Bill: 97, Dan, 97. Dan: 97 bottles of beer on the wall. Clarence: Are we there yet? Al: Soon. Real soon. Bill: Hot diggety snot, I can just taste that reefer now! This is great, you know, us all forgetting our differences, just a bunch o' buds headin' out to party... just like the old days... just like Vietnam... Everybody: (Nostalgic sigh) Dan: 95 bottles of beer on the wall... Announcer: Meanwhile, in a nearby volkswagen... Stoney: Man, are you sure this is the right way? Maloney: Sure, man, we've been to Moonie's a zillion times. Stoney: It doesn't look like the right way. Maloney: That's 'cause you're stoned, man. Stoney: It's cause there's so much smoke in here! Open a friggin' window! Maloney: No way man, the cops'll smell it! Stoney: There's no way anyone's gonna smell anything over the oil this heap is burning! Maloney: Shut up! Don't you talk about Lucinda that way! There there baby, the burnout didn't mean it. Stoney: It's just a car, man, it's not the Love Bug! v Maloney: Shows what you know! Lucinda's toured further with the Dead than any other vehicle owned by Man, I bet it's true! Stoney: Yeah, sure, whatever. Hey! Isn't that Moonie's house! Maloney: I don't think so... Stoney: Yeah, that's it, that's the place! Right on the corner of Straight and Stashbury! Maloney: Well, if you're sure... (car engine stops. Doors slam. Weed is toked) Stoney: Moonie said he had some cool theatrical experience planned... Maloney: Looks like we're the first ones here. Stoney: Yeah, but he said a whole bunch of Freaks'll be here. Man, I wonder what's gonna happen? Probably something wild! Maloney: I'm ready for anything! Rogerz: (singing) This is the way we clean a contact lens (doorbell) Drat! (glass hitting floor) Jesus- (sound of contact crushed under boot) oops! Well, boys and girls, I've got to get the door, contact lens or no contact lens. A good host doesn't make people wait. Sure wish I could see better though... (door opening) Hi! Welcome. You don't look like President Bush. You must be his entourage. Maloney: Yeah, we're the president's entourage! Stoney (giggling): We're in disguise. Maloney: Yeah, deep cover (snicker). Rogerz: Well, come in. Sit down. Would you like some cokies? Both: Cookies!! wahoo! Rogerz: I'll be right back! Stoney: Wow! Moonie's gone all out! Maloney: It seems a little weird if you ask me... Stoney: No way, don't you get it? It's existential, like, living theater! We are the Art! Tres Warhol! Maloney: Pretty groovy... they sure have changed the place around. It's like, so totally straight! Stoney: Yeah, except for the... trolley tracks in the living room! Maloney: Wow! How post-modern... it's like... a PBS kid's show in here... like... Both together: Shining Time Station! Stoney: Keep an eye out for little Ringo! Maloney: He's not under here! Stoney: Not here either! No little George Carlin either! Rogerz: You men don't have to worry; there's no hidden microphones in here. Stoney: (clearing throat) Just doing our job, sir! Can't be too careful! Rogerz: Of course. I'm sure there's nothing in the garbage! Maloney: We're paid to be thorough, sir! Stoney: You never know who might be lurking in your neighborhood... Maloney: Assassins... Stoney: Militias... Maloney: Or gangs! Rogerz: Oh my! Stoney: Maybe even... Maloney: Don't even say it... Stoney: But they could be here... Maloney: Homey don't play it... Stoney: But your neighbors could be... Both: (singing) Hippies! (song: "Hippies are Everywhere") (doorbell) Moonie: All right everybody, that's our audience! Everybody psyched? Cordelia: I think I need to be a little more psyched. (toking noise) Everybody: Me too, etc. Moonie: Okay, someone get the door. Dreamer: We have a door? Star: I'll get it. I'm the designated walker. (sound of door opening) Bill: Cheerio, lads! I'm Al Clanton, from jolly old England, eh wot, and these are me chums, Lady Sauvage, Tipper: Well, hi there... Bill: Baaadaasss Charlie... Clarence: Peace! Bill: Moustappha be Azeel... Al: Ya, mon. Bill: And, um, Dan Quayle. Dan: You can call me Casper! Star: Well, come on in, the show's about to start. Bill: Show? Oh yes, the show. Can't wait, can we, lads? Everybody: No! Star: Make yourself comfortable, fire up the hookah. Plenty for everybody. Bill: Bless you, mum!(pause... sound of Starraven leaving the room) Holy Leapin' Bunnycrap! Look at that mound of weed! Tipper: That hookah sure is full! Bill: I meant over there on the floor! Bigger than a Boston Yankee's leaf pile... Dan! Get the hell out of there!! Dan: Whee! Bill: Ahh, what the hell! Yeehaw! Here comes Mister President! Wowhoo! (sound of Bill leaping into leafpile) Come on in! The foliage is fine! Everybody: Whee! Al: This is great! Bill: Weedfight! Take that, Clarence you right wing fascist nut! Clarence: Hoohoo! Take that, you high-spending liberal weenie! Al: Ick! I think I just found some raked up dog crap! Dan: Takes one to know one! Tipper: Hey! Watch your hands! Everyone: Sorry! Star: Who are those people, Moonie? Moonie: I think they're friends of Dreamers. Dreamer: I don't know 'em. Moonie: Well, they do look familiar... Star: What are they doing now? Moonie: They appear to be playing "twister" in the stash... Cordelia: Are you SURE it's no one we know? Dreamer: Does it really matter? All are one. Moonie: That's enough for you! Cordelia: Friends don't let friends talk stoned. Dreamer:........hey! Star: I'm with Dreamer. They must be with somebody. Let's give 'em a show. (bongo drum roll) Star: Ladies and Gentlemen, if you will take your seats... I will lead the invocation. "Oh Great Goddess who watches from above, who shines on us with Radiant Love, Who brings us groovy things for lunch, Won't you bless 'The Bronte Bunch?" (smattering of bewilderd applause) ladies and gentlemen, stoners of all ages, I give you... "The Bronte Bunch" (Bronte Bunch theme) Admiral: What manner of beast art thou, o God? You took my wife, then my two youngest... now you take from me my eyes. How have I sinned before you, o Mighty One? Did I see too much, or too clearly? (looks at self in mirror) Well, at least I won't have to see my bald spot growing larger! (laugh track) Cordelia: Nay, father, nor shall you be blessed to gaze upon Branwell's painting... (laugh track) Admiral: I may grow to like this blindness thing yet!(laugh track) Moonie: Have Emily recite but one of her poems, and ye shall wish deafness as well! (laugh track) Cordelia: Ah, brother, while you are wishing another blight upon poor father, please convey my recommendation for a paralysis of the vocal chords for yourself. (laugh track) Admiral: I shall instead wish a plague of niceness and cameraderie upon you both. Both: Nay, father! Anything but that! Dreamer: Please cease thy incessant strife, my siblings. Admiral: Careful, young Anne, lest they decide to whet their tongues upon you instead! Dreamer: But a more obliging target presents itself, for Charlotte doth approach!! (Door opens) Bong dog: Bark bark! Devilcat: Ruff, ruff. Star: Greetings Keeper, beloved hound, and to you as well, Flossie, noble Spaniel. Hello to you, dear pater. And blameless young Anne, hello again, treasured sister. Branwell, Emily, I see the sun still finds you above the turf. I approve! Cordelia: The sun finds me seldom; though it may catch young Branwell on occasion at some random point between pub and hearth! Moonie: I would chuckle at your wit, my sister, but I am far too sober. Admiral: Draw in thy claws, children, and let us find if young Charlotte has news to share. Tell us, daughter, how fared thee in town? Star: I fared well... nay! I can say it not! Alas! I have sown the seed of my destruction in town, and the weed that shall sprout from it shall indeed be bitter, yes, bitter indeed! Dreamer: Charlotte! Do tell! Cordelia: Yes, in what ill-construed web have you ensnared yourself now? Star: I have practiced to deceive, and it shall be my undoing. There is to be a gathering in town, a social event of sorts. Admiral: I have heard this. Star: Everyone was talking about what they were bringing to this event, what they would wear, whom they would accompany... I felt that I should offer something, and that as the Parson's daughter I should bring something special to the proceedings. Before I knew what I was saying, I had claimed to have befriended a noted celebrity; worse, I had offered to procure his services for the gathering! Dreamer: You did not! Star: Alas, I did. Moonie: And who might this celebrity be? Star: None other than William Blake! (big laugh) Moonie: Whoa! This is most benightedly unlikely! (laughter and applause) Announcer: Meanwhile, across the street... Heather: Are you sure this is the place? Feather: Look, there's Stoney's VW. It's gotta be the place. Heather: I thought Moonie and everybody lived across the street! Feather: No, look, there's some big-shot limousine across the street. Some corrupt political guy or corporate fatcat probably lives over there. Heather: Yeah, you must be right. Let's go in.(horn honks) Hey! There's Oberon and the Goat! C'mon, it's over here! Goat: Callanish and Rufus Reefus are behind us! Feather: Hey, everybody! Over here! (sound of a lot of cars pulling up) Announcer: Meanwhile, across the street... (sound of play continuing) Clarence: Mister President, what the hell is going on here? Tipper: These people aren't hippies, they're lunatics! Dan: I'm scared! Bill: C'mon now people, they're hippies all right, this is some kind of wacky experimental theater, like in 'Billy Jack'. Smoke some'a this, and it gets a lot funnier. (toking sounds) Tipper: Yeah! Dan: They talk weird! Al: It is my opinion, that these actors, these stage performers, are making me laugh. (everybody starts loudly laughing, and toking, and laughing, and coughing) Announcer: Yes, all was going splendidly. The play was a hit, the audience was in an uproar, and then... the moment everyone had dreaded... (sound of door busting open) Newt: Surprise! Ted: We ah heard there was a pahrty! Bill: Oh crap! They must have followed us! Teddy! Great to see ya! Y'all come and have some of this fine, fine reefer, watch these here fellers put on their little play. Newt: Hello, Billy. Bill: Hello, Newtman. Newt: Weren't going to invite us, were you? Bill: What would a party be without my ol' buddy Newt? And Ted! Why your name's is a sinnernym for 'party'! C'mon, let's have some fun! Ted (tokes): I ah declareh this dope to be righteous! Announcer: Back across the street, a Crown Victoria pulls up to Mister Rogerz' place. Bush: This must be the place! Sure are a lot of cars here! (car is shut off. Bush gets out). These don't look like Republican cars... look at these bumper stickers; "I Brake for Hobbits", "Abductee on Board", "...And on the Eight Day God Created Phish", - hmm, sacriliege! He created fish on the fifth day, I'm pretty sure;"Greenpeace!?!" (whack) Take that you commies! Hmm. Probably shouldn't have taken that extra Halcyon.The lawn looks nice... (rings bell) (door opens) Mr. Rogerz: Mister former President! Won't you come inside my house? Your people are here already. Bush: The people still love ol' George. Still touches me, right here. Sure are a lot of 'em! They look kind of radical... but it's great to know that the kids will still come out for George Bush. Take that, Mr. MTV president! It smells weird in here, Nr. Rogerz... kind of like the inside of the parachute that save my life back in WWII. Sure takes me back. Rat-tat-tat kapow!! kapow!! Mr. Rogerz: Mr. Ex-president? Bush: What? Oh! Just got caught up in the memories, is all. Mr. Rogerz: I think the children would like to see how you make a speech. Bush: A speech? No gosh, I couldn't... give me a second. (crowd noises) Stoney: Get ready; I think something's about to happen! Maloney: D'you hear that? The big event is about to start! Feather: It's about time! I like performance art as much as the next person, but this is getting a bit too Yoko, if you know what I mean. Heather: I think it's conceptually brilliant. I never knew Moonie was such an intellectual artiste! I really expected this 'big event' of Moonie's to be some crazy sitcom or something. Feather: Phhh! Give him a little more credit than that! Rogerz: Ladies and Gentlemen, if I can have your attention, please? Please? Thank you. Your boss, former President Bush (laughter), all right, settle down now please. Sometimes it's fun to carry on and enjoy yourself, but it's important to respect the feelings of others. Your boss, former President Bush (louder laughter)... shut the hell up will you!... Former President Bush is going to give a speech to show all the boys and girls watching at home what a political speech is. I want you all to give him your most polite attention, and that goes for you boys and girls at home, because the presidency is the most important job in the world, and the former president has earned your respect. (loud laughter) Now, maybe you think this is a party, but I don't! This is a speech by an important man (giggles) and I want you to give him your respect. Can you say respect? Everyone: Respect! Rogerz: That's right. All right, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen; here's Mister Former President George Bush with a speech for you. (crowd responds wildly) Bush: Thank you, thank you. You like me, you really like me. Heh, a little Sally Field impression there. (laughter) It makes me happy to get the chance to address the young folks, both the boys and girls at home and the kinda wild-looking crowd here at Mister Rogerz' house. Don't want to go out on a limb here, but it seems to me that young people are the future of America! (applause) Thank you. But to achieve that future, a future available to every American if he works hard enough (giggles from audience), because America is the place where everyone gets an equal chance (laughter) no it's true, there's one thing you kids have to remember, one thing you kids have to do to get to the future, and that's to Say No to Drugs! (audience falls out of its seat with riotous laughter) Bush: People! Drugs don't work! (laughter) You can't use drugs and hold down a job! (laughter) And thanks to the steps forward in my administration, we are winning the war on drugs! (another tumult of outrageous laughter) Settle down people, you're cheering so loudly that it sounds like laughter, we don't want the boys and girls at home to think that you're laughing at America's drug problem, do you? (laughter) Well, that's better, I guess... I just want to say that despite our differences in the past, our current president is doing a super job in waging the war on drugs and deserves our total support... Bill: Wahoodledy doodledy! Go Teddy go! Ted: With this lampshade on ah my head, I heahby declare myself a lamp, lighting the way for America's youth, particularly female youth... Bill: Ah hear ya! Wahhooo! Al: I, also, am a lamp. Wahoo. Clarence: You're more of a coat rack. Moonie: Slowly did I circumnambulate, footfall by footfall, centimeter by... All right, that's enough! Good God, people, were you raised in a carnival? We're trying to enlighten you with our performance and you're carrying on like a bunch of drunken conventioneers! Ted: Take it off baby! Moonie: I'll take it off, I'll take off your freakin' head! Rarrrrr! Put your shirt back on, Dreamer, he wasn't serious. Ted: Don't ah be so sure about that... Star: A word with you, Moonie... Moonie: What? Star: It's beginning to seem to me that these guests we have are not at all our kind of people. Moonie: Agreed. How do we get them out of here, short of violence, which I must remind myself I am philosophically opposed to? Star: Let's hex them! Cordelia: That's your answer to everything. Star: Ready? Moonie, Cordelia: Ready. Star: One, two, three... Everybody: Hexhexhexhexhex..... Star: Are they still here? (bottle smashing) Moonie: That would be a yes! Star: All right, I'm calling in the big guns. Oh mighty spirit in the sky, send to us a deliverer who shall free us from the bane that has befallen us... Moonie: A deliverer! Ask for a million dollars while you're at it! Good God! "Oh great sky king, send messiah on a steed of fire to free us from these unwanted house guests". "This is God... would you like fries with that?" I mean, talk about your... (sound of Harley engine gradually growing louder in the distance. Suddenly with an enormous crash the engine noise grows louder, then stops.) Hillary: All right, who wants a piece of me! (panic ensues amongst the multitude) Bill: H-hi, honey... Hillary: Don't you "hi honey" me you (bleep). I warned you about this (bleep), now some people are gonna have to die. Who wants it first? Dan: Clarence! Clarence: Dan! Al:Tipper! Tipper: She's not gonna kill us you idiot! But thanks for volunteering me! Al: But it's Hillary, dear! Once she's wound up, someone's gotta die. You know it, I know it. The question is "Who?" Hillary: Oh, the Hippies'll do fine for starters. Hippies: Eep! Hillary: Heads up, everybody! I'm about to make some scarlet tie-die! (Everybody laughs.) Bill: Good one, Hillary. Hillary: You like it? Shut up! Moonie: Anyone got any ideas? Cordelia: Let's put on a show. We can call it a "litcom". Dreamer: Heeheeheehee - ow! Star: Oh great spirit, get us out of this mess, please? Moonie: And a million dollars! Don't forget.... Hillary: It's hippie dippie death time! Scuse me while you kiss the sky! (loud crash, followed by intense machine gun fire) Dreamer: We fell through the stage! Moonie: Yeah! Who built this thing anyway? Oh, right, it was me. Star: Thank you great spirit for answering our entreaties... Cordelia: And thank you Moonie for your incompetent craftsmanship. Moonie: Who says you can't make a stage out of particle board, duct tape and krazy glue? Dreamer: You hear that, crazy terminator lady! We're all safe here behind solid particle board! Ha ha ha ha ha! Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh... Everybody else (sudden realization): Ummm.... Moonie: Cheese it out the back? Cordelia: I see no flaw to that logic. Everybody: Aaaahhhh! (running sounds, and machine gun fire) (chirping crickets) Star: Everybody okay? Everyone assents (including Bongdog, Devilcat, and the Admiral). (loud kaboom) Dreamer: That was a hand grenade! Moonie: There goes the stage. Cordelia: It didn't really go with the living room in the first place. Star: Where to now? Admiral: Resign ourselves to despair? Bongdog: Feed the dog? Devilcat: Ssssacrrifice the dog? Moonie: What would Jerry Garcia do? Star: Righteous guitar solo, hit the fridge. Moonie: No help there. What would Cheech and Chong do? (everybody tokes) Bongdog: I REALLY think you should feed the dog. Moonie: What would Gilligan do? Everybody: THE PERFESSOR!!! Star: Quick! Hammer on the celler door! (sound of motorcycle revving, hammering on metal cellar doors) Moonie: Perfesser! Perfesser! (creepy theremin music) Perfesser: Yeeessss? Everybody: (blather of explanation) Perfesser: Hillary Clinton! Good God you're in deep! Better use this! (orb noises) Cordelia: The magic orb. Breathtaking. Moonie: This isn't a bowling pin we're up against, Perfesser, it's the freakin' first lady! What's some 'magic orb' gonna do ... oh wow! Perfesser: That's just from you getting near it. Imagine if you touched it. Moonie: What did you say, oh Perfesser of the rainbow colors...? Cordelia: Let me handle this. Hillary: There they are! Block their escape! Well, my hippie friends, you now find yourself in a situation where there is no hope. What does that feel like? Cordelia: Tuesday. Admiral: Oh, quite. Ha ha. Hillary: Wipe those smirks off your face! Do you find imminent death amusing? Hippies: Snicker, chuckle, etc! Hillary: I don't want to hear another peep out of you! Everybody: Peep! Hillary: That's it! I've toyed with you enough. Now is a good day to die - for you! Cordelia: Oh Hillary? Hillary: What? Cordelia: Catch! (orb noise) Hillary: Oh my... (song: "It's a Psychedelic Marshmallow World") Star: Well, there they go... Dreamer: Do you think they'll be all right, wandering around naked staring into the sky like that? Moonie: Sure! Why not? Admiral: It has been an exciting evening, but I think I shall retire to my dour abode. Anyone who wants to come over next week for checkers will be welcome. Cordelia: Dreamer'll be there. Dreamer: Hey! Bongdog: Rrr I'm hungry! Devilcat: Purrrrhaps feeding the cat isss a posssibility as well. Dreamer: I'm hungry too! Moonie: Let's call for pizza! (cheers, etc.) Cordelia: I wonder what became of the orb? Perfesser: Perhaps, like so many other mysteries of this universe, we shall never know. Dreamer: Look, Mister Rogerz is having a party! Star: There's someone dressed as George Bush on his roof! Moonie: Yeah, that Rogerz, he's one wild cat. Bush: Cock a doodle doo! (Hippie end music, credits) Epilogue: Rogerz: What a wild night that was, boys and girls. Who knew that president Bush had a mental disorder that caused him to hallucinate? And so did all his people! The former president was the only one that needed to be carted away, though. Can you say, "institutionalized?" I don't know where that weird bowling ball they were all playing with went to; I'm sure it will turn up sometime. It's probably under the couch. So much stuff winds up under the couch. When I get up I like to watch the news to see what's happening in the world. Some of your mommies and daddies might like to do that, too. TV Anncr: ...when asked, the president signified a fear of 'bad extra-terrestrials", but assured the public that 'good extraterrestrials were also on the job. Pressed for further details, the President pointed to the sky and said... Bill: See that star up there, in the pleides! That's where I am right now, on a planet orbitting... Rogerz: Some mornings the TV news isn't what I like to hear, so I turn it off. Part of being grown up is turning off things you don't want to hear. (trolley) jingle jingle Rogerz: We all know what that sound means! It means it's time to visit the land of make believe. Let's see what everyone is up to over there, shall we? (off to the land of make-believe sound effects) Rogerz: Who th-? How did you get here? Ted: I ah believe I took the ah magic trolley. Rogerz: Where are your pants? Ted: Probably still in the treehouse... hey, babe, can you ah send out my pants. Henrietta: Meow meow sure can meow. Rogerz: Henrietta pussycat! How could you? Henrietta: Meow meow it's a Kennedy meow! (The End)
All contents © copyright 1997 Dark Lord Rob. |
