A Goddam Hippie Halloween
The wolfman's growing out his hair
Here's the grave of Terrence Cloak
Halloween comes but once a year
Every vampire in his tomb
(sound - chirpy bird sounds) Narrator: It's morning in America. The streets are serenaded by the sounds of lawn mowers revving, rednecks hollering, Regis and Kathy Lee doing something... honestly, I've never watched the show but I know it's on in the mornings. Everywhere coffee is brewing, children are laughing, SUV's are charging down the blacktop like fire-breathed apocalypse stallions. Somewhere a grandmother brews tea and sits down to watch "her stories", somewhere a team of Rigelian scientists disguised as human beings settles down after a long evening of abducting and probing... and, next door to Mister Rogers, an incident is about to occur that will change the way mankind looks at reality... well, don't believe me, see for yourself... Dreamer: What a magical morning! Ahh, the breathy exhileration of it all, so brimming with sunshiny wonderment! Hello wall, hello floor, hello TV, hello door, hello kitchen, hello Winston Churchill eating a bagel - Winston: Hello young man. Dreamer: Wait a minute! We have bagels? Winston: And quite good they are too. Dreamer: Wait a minute! You're Winston Churchill! Winston: Most certainly. "V for Victory", eh wot? Dreamer: Wait a minute! You're dead, I'm pretty sure! Winston: Yes, I do believe I am. I am a decommisioned corporeal. No more of that "Blood Sweat and Tears" crap for me now! Dreamer: Are you a g-g-g-ghost? Winston: I prefer "Spirit", though "shade" will suffice. Stiff upper lip, lad, you've nothing to fear save fear itself. Dreamer: I'm not scared of fear! I'm scared of Ghosts! Yahhh! (mister rogerz' theme) (phone ringing) Mildew: FBI. Special Agent Voxx Mildew speaking. Dreamer: Ghosts! We've got ghosts! Mildew: Settle down, sir. You say you have ghosts? Narrow it down for me, please. Apparitions or poltergeists? Dreamer: Apparitions, I guess... Mildew: Full body of partial? Dreamer: Full. Mildew: Any ectoplasm? Dreamer: Nah, I brushed my teeth. Mildew: Did the ghost speak to you? Dreamer: Yeah, he was pretty talkative. He was eating a bagel. Mildew: A bagel. Dreamer: Yeah. Mildew: Are you high? Dreamer: Yeah, but no more than usual. Mildew: All right, sir, let me take some information and we'll send a team 'round to investigate. (Brief montage of Mildew taking down info. He hangs up phone, stares at paper. Smully walks in.) Smully: Glad to see you, Mildew. We just got a tip that an international syndicate has planted an A-bomb on the San Andreas fault and the FBI has five hours to find and disarm it or the West Coast will be wetter than Atlantis in monsoon season. Mildew: No time for that, Smully. We've got more pressing matters. Snully: (Grabbing coat). What's up? Mildew: Some hippie saw a ghost! (They leave the room with alacrity). Dreamer places the phone back on the cradle. Dreamer: Phew! That's over. Suddenly the phone rings. Dreamer jumps a mile. Dreamer: Yahh! (Picks up phone.) Hello? Phone: (Creepy voice) Have you checked the children? Dreamer: No... Phone: (Dial tone) Close-up on tense Dreamer as he backs away from the phone. It rings. Dreamer: Yahhh! (Picks up phone) Hello? Phone: Why haven't you checked the children? Dreamer: Yahhh! (Hangs phone up - makes frightened face) The phone. It rings. Dreamer: Yahhh! (Picks up phone) Hello? Phone: Dreamer? It's the police! We've traced those crank calls, and they're coming from inside the house! By this time the camera has revealed that Moonbane is standing behind Dreamer and saying the spooky somethings into a cell phone. But Dreamer reacts with predictable panic, running around the room screaming. He sees Moonbane and grabs his lapels, shaking him. Dreamer: They're coming from inside the house! The police said the calls are coming from inside the house! (Dreamer notices Moonbane's smirk. Then he notices the cell phone.) Dreamer: But I didn't call the police. And we don't have any children. You're a creep, Moonbane! Moonbane laughs uproariously. Moonbane: Man, if you could have seen your face! Dreamer: That was mean! I was really scared! Moonbane: Well, that's sort of the point. It's not funny if you're not really scared. Dreamer: It's not funny anyway. Moonbane: A question of perspective. Hey, the first time I tried calling the phone was busy. Who was on the phone? Dreamer: Oh, just the FBI. (Look of horror crosses Moonbane's face). Moonbane: The eh-eh-eh-FBI? Dreamer: Yeah, they're on their way over... Moonbane: Yahhh! (Moonbane runs around the room in a panic, opening cupboards and pulling out pot plants from absurd hiding places). Moonbane: Okay, okay, don't panic, we can clear everything outta here, it's gonna be okay, don't panic, nobody'll know anything, everything's okay - I SAID DON'T PANIC, WHY ARE YOU PANICKING!?!?!? Dreamer: It's okay, Moonie, they're coming over to check on the ghosts. Moonbane: To check on the ghosts. Dreamer: Yeah. Moonbane: They told you they were coming over to check on the ghosts. Dreamer: Yeah. (Moonbane gives an exasperated eye-roll) Moonbane: Cheese and spice, Dreamer, you'll believe just about anything, won't you? (Starts pulling pot plants out of unlikely places again). Dreamer: What do you mean? Moonbane: The FBI doesn't bust ghosts! They bust pot smokers, and political dissidents, and shroom chompers, and people who start fake religions to milk cash from the gullible... not that I know anything about any of those things. Now, help me stuff these medicinal herbs down the garbage disposal... Starraven enters. Starraven: What in the name of the threefold goddess is going on here? Moonbane, what are you doing to those poor plants? Moonbane: Giving them a bath? Starraven: No, I don't think so. I think you're paranoid and think the feds are on their way over here, just like last week and the week before that. Moonbane: Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get me. A broken clock is right twice a day. Starraven: You're more like a VCR clock that just keeps blinking... and blinking... and blinking... (Starraven makes a flickery hand gesture). Dreamer: Cut it out! You're freaking me out. Moonbane: Anyway, my point is that, if Dreamer's grasp of facts can be trusted, the FBI are on their way over here right now. Dreamer: It's true. Starraven: What, they told you they were coming? Does that make any sense? Moonbane? Moonbane: Well, eh, erm... Starraven: Now, be honest, Dreamer; wasn't this something you saw on television? No one's going to be mad at you if you got a little confused. Moonbane: Almost no one. (Smacks fist into palm). Dreamer: It wasn't the TV this time, it was real! It was! (Cordelia enters the room with a cup of coffee as Moonbane and Starraven shake their heads skeptically). Cordelia: Good morning. A few items of note; we're low on sugar. Bongdog and Devilcat need to be fed. Oh! And we have ghosts. Dreamer: Told you! I told you! Moonbane: Ghosts? How can we have ghosts? I sprayed for 'em just last week. Star: Perhaps these are stronger than average ghosts. Cordelia: Perhaps Moonbane did a half-assed job of spraying. Moonbane: No way, these must be friggin' super-ghosts! I sprayed so much Ghost-Away that it was practically dripping from the ceiling! Cordelia: May I see the can? Moonbane: Sure, it's right here. (Opens cabinet, stuff tumbles out. Hands can to Cordelia.) Cordelia: Just as I thought. It wasn't Ghost-Away. It was Ghost-Hooray. Dreamer: I don't know why we keep that stuff around! Moonbane: It was dark. I was high. Anyone coulda' made the same mistake. Star: Well, now what do we do? We're infested. Dreamer: Don't worry, I took care of it. Cordelia: Worry. Star: What did you do, Dreamer? Moonbane: He called the feds, that's what he did. That's like plunging a toilet with a bazooka. Cordelia: Speaks the voice of experience. Star: The feds? What, the bureau of alcohol, tobacco, and phantasms? Dreamer: No, the FBI! Star: The FBI doesn't deal with ghosts, Dreamer. Dreamer: Yeah, they do, they've got this group called like the "Hex Files" that go around hunting aliens and bigfoots and ghosts and stuff. It was in the paper. They caught the bat-boy! Moonbane: Not the bat-boy! Star: Free the bat-boy! (Song)
The bat-boy blinks his widened eyes
In a world he never made
Free the Bat-Boy!
But he'll never never be free Free the bat boy! Announcer: Meanwhile, at Mister Rogerz place next door... (Mister Rogerz answers the door. There is a cutout construction paper pumpkin on his door.) Rogerz: Hello, boys and girls. As you can see by my Jack O'Lantern here, it's almost Halloween, and that's the day when people dress up as ghosts and goblins. I know it can seem sort of scary, seeing all those cats, and witches, and spooky skeletons, but it's only make believe. (While talking, Mister Rogerz has been taking off his sweater and heading for his closet.) Rogerz: Halloween ghosts are just pretend, they're costumes that can be taken off just like my sweater, here. (Rogerz opens the closet door. A skull-faced ghoul is dangling from the coat rack. We see him before Rogerz does. He looks at Rogerz quizzically as the latter removes his cardigan. Rogerz turns to hang the sweater, sees the ghoul, screams. The ghoul is also perturbed and dashes back to a nice, safe, dark corner of the closet.) Rogerz: What the f -... who are you? What are you doing in there? Ghoul: Just hangin'. Rogerz: How did you get here... (sudden realization) Those goddam hippies! (Rogerz runs to his phone) Rogerz: Well, you're not going to get away with it. You've slipped up this time. (Dials phone). Hello, Hilda, get me the FBI. (Remembers camera) We're calling the FBI, boys and girls. Experience has taught me that there's no use dealing with the local police when it comes to my hippie neighbors, the cops here in Mr. Rogerz' Neighborhood are too nice and smiley to wreak the sort of righteous havoc that my hippie neighbors deserve. But J. Edgar's boys know how to deal with longhairs... make 'em dance the nightstick two-step. Can you say that, boys and girls, can you say 'bonk bonk on the head! bonk bonk!'... Oh hello, Agent Vitriola. I want to report my neighbors. What for? Why, being hippies. (pause) It's not a crime? Not even under Homeland Security? Oh, not yet, I see. What have they done? Well, for starters they've let a ghoul into my closet... that's right, a ghoul.(pause) You have a special division for ghoul investigations? Well, I never would have... X-files? Sounds a little dirty... what's that you say? Agents Mildew and Smully are out of the office on another case right now? And you also say that you'll send out their backup agents in their place? And you further go on to say that these are crack investigators, new to the beaureau but seasoned through their intensive expertise in the private sector? (The said 'crack investigators' are Scooby and Shaggy. We see them walking down Mister Rogerz' street, lookiing for Rogerz' place. They are wearing black suits, dark glasses, and FBI type hats.) Rogerz (v.o.): Well, what can I say but 'That's just jim-dandy!'" Shaggy: Jinkies, Scoob, we've been up and down this street five times and we still haven't found this Rogerz' cat's house. Scooby: Ro rouse. Shaggy: And if we don't find the house we can't look for the ghoul in his closet. Scooby: Ro roul. Shaggy: So, like, I'll ask you one more time. Do you see Mr. Rogerz' house anywhere? (Both of them cover their eyes, then look around) Scooby: Runh-ruh. Shaggy: Like, me neither. Like, should we keep looking? Scooby: Rokay. (Shaggy ducks out of sight) Shaggy: Unh-oh, Scoob, like that's our bosses Mildew and Smully. Like, what do we do? Scooby: Ract rinnocent. (Mildew and Smully stand at the Hippie Neighbors' doorstep. Mildew hears someone loudly whistling the 'X-Files' theme.) Mildew: What's that whistling? Smully: There! (She points up the street, where Shaggy and Scooby are walking along, exaggeratedly feigning innocence.) Mildew: Agent Shaggerrelli! What are you doing here? (Shaggy looks all around, then double-takes as if suddenly realizing someone is talking to him). Shaggy: What? Huh? Oh, hey, look, Scoob, like it's Agents Mildew and Scully. Hey, what's up? Smully: We asked you first. Shaggy: Huh? Oh, like we were sent to check out some spooky phenomena... (Scooby nudges him.) Scooby: Hroo? Shaggy: Phenomena, Scoob. Scooby: Hroo? Shaggy: Phenomena. Scooby: Ra-bee-ba-bee-bee. (to the tune of 'Mah-na-mah-na'). (Shaggy and Scooby burst out laughing, to Smully's chagrin). Smully: That'll be about enough jocularity from you, misters. You kids represent the Federal Beureau of Investigation and all that this hallowed institution stands for and the US public expects you to take your job seriously, whether you're investigating murder, or kidnapping, or, as we are today, unexplained phenomena. Isn't that right, Agent Mildew? Mildew: Unexplained what? Smully: Phenom - oh no you don't! And wipe that smirk off your face! Mildew: Yes, ma'am. Now, boys, where was this unexplained whatever supposed to have occured? Shaggy: Like, number 418 Stashbury Avenue. Mildew: Hmm, the address we're investigating is number 420 Stashbury. Sounds like we might have an unearthly vortex operating in the vicinity. Scoob: Rrortex!?! Mildew: That's right. We should proceed with extra caution. Shag: Like, how about you two proceed and Scoob and I will guard the van. Scoob: Ror the roffice. Shag: Yeah, like who knows what freaky stuff might be happening back at the office. Smully: That's very considerate of you to offer,but there's a good chance we might need backup right here at the corner of Straight and Stashbury. Mildew: A place that maybe, just maybe, could be the center of all supernatural activity on the planet. The scariest place on earth. Smully: Really? Mildew (shrugs): Maybe. Shaggy: I don't like the sound of this, Scoob. Scoob: Re reither. Shaggy (to Mildew): You two lead on, we'll be right behind you. Mildew: All right. Mildew and Smully take two steps toward the Hippie Neighbors' house. Simultaneously Shaggy and Scooby take two steps backward. Mildew and Smully lookk at each other, as if to ask "What just happened?" They look back at Shaggy and Scooby, who grin sheepishly. Mildew and Smully step forward. Shaggy and Scooby step backward. The look and grins are repeated. Mildew and Smully look at each other, arriving at an unspoken plan. They both take three steps backward; Shaggy and Sooby compulsively take three steps forward. Now everyone is parallel. Mildew and Smully look at each other knowingly; Shaggy and Scooby's looks are somewhat bewildered and apprehensive. Next Mildew and Smully take three more steps backward; suddenly Shaggy and Scooby are at the door. Shaggy: Like, something strange just happened, Scoob, but I don't know what it was! Scoob: Re've been ricked! Smully: You two stay where you are. We'll back you up. Scoob and Shaggy look at each other, gulp. Shaggy rings the doorbell. (The bell tone is the opening guitar notes to "Dark Star"). There is a pause, then Shaggy rings the doorbell again. Suddenly it is pulled open by Dreamer, who immediately sprays both Shaggy and Scooby with the contents of a flit-cannister labelelled "Ghost-Away!" S+S cough. Dreamer looks them over. Dreamer: It's all right, everyone! They're human! Scooby: Ruman! Rot ree! Dreamer: I mean, mortal. Starraven grabs the flit can from Dreamer. Starraven: Give me that! That's no way to treat guests! I'm sorry, Dreamer's just making sure you aren't ghosts. Shaggy: Like, that's okay, and like where can we get a can of that stuff? Mildew and Smully step up to the door. Smully: Agents Smully and Mildew, FBI. These are our fellow agents, Shaggadelli and Doo. Scooby extends a paw. Scooby: Reesed ro reet rou. Starraven: Rand ri'm reased ro reet rou. Scooby: Ron't rake run rof ry reech rimpediment. Shaggy, Smully, Mildew, and Dreamer all shake their heads scoldingly. Dreamer: Not cool, Starraven, not cool. Starraven: I'm sorry - I didn't - Scooby holds up a paw, as if to say "Say no more." Scooby: Ro riggie. Rich ray ro rhe rhosts? Moonbane: The marijuana - I mean ghosts! - In the kitchen. Smully: Did you just say marijuana? Moonbane: We don't have any ghosts - I mean, marijuana! Mildew: I distinctly heard "marijuana". Moonbane: Don't make fun of my speech impediment. Dreamer, Starraven, Shaggy, and Scooby shake their heads scoldingly. Smully: I wasn't - Mildew: I didn't - Moonbane holds up his hand. Moonbane: No biggie. Smully and Mildew enter. Once they are past, Moonbane wipes his brow and expels air in a "Phew! That was close!" gesture. Shaggy and Scooby giggle. Smully: Which way is the kitchen? Moonbane: The grow room is behind the sliding panel in the hallway. (Hits self in head). Mulder: I beg your pardon? Moonbane: Sorry. Something stuck in my throat. The kitchen is through the door on the left. Smully: What's in this closet? Moonbane: Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Less than nothing! It's not even a closet! It's a fake door! Smully nods, walks on toward kitchen. Behind her, Shaggy opens the door. Marijuana pours out, covering Shaggy and Scooby. Dreamer: Oh no! The feds are buried in weed! Starraven: Not again! Shaggy: Like, I've died and gone to heaven. Scooby: Re roo! Title: Meanwhile, in the kitchen... Smully and Mildew enter, followed by a nervous Moonbane. There they find Winston Churchill still sitting at the breakfast table, playing cards with Cordelia, William Burroughs, and Tiny Tim. Churchill: Perhaps the lady is in possession of some threes? Cordelia: Go fish. Churchill: Oh, pish. Moonbane: Here you are. Ghosts. Look at 'em, playing cards. Mildew: Yes, there is a distinct scent of the grave in here. Dreamer: Is that what the smell is? I thought it was Moonie's mushrooms. Moonbane whacks Dreamer, but neither Smully nor Mildew notices. Mildew: Look at them, Smully! Full body manifestations, with a ninety-plus percent corporeality! They look almost alive! Smully: Except for the woman. Moonbane and Dreamer snicker. Dreamer: Me-yow! Cordelia: I beg your pardon. Starraven: We're pretty sure Cordelia is still alive. Moonbane: 'Course no one's taken her pulse yet today. Cordelia: Even though the company I keep would drive Little Mary Sunshine to the cyanide cabinet, my flesh remains too, too real. She slaps Mildew's hand, which is attempting to test that reality. Mildew: Ow! Pretty real, all right. Tiny Tim: She's real, sir! Burroughs: And I'm surreal. Churchill: Bad pun! Bad pun! Tiny Tim: I thought it was swell! Mildew opens a briefcase, pulls out a tricordery unit and waves it around. It hums. He presses some buttons on its face. Smully: Well? Mildew: Bad news. I forgot to feed my electronic pet and it died. Shit! Smully: What about the ghosts, Mildew? Mildew: I’m showing an Ectoplasmic density of plus ten point seven, with a visual acuity of eighty-nine percent on the Yznekam Scale, and a spooktacularity vector of twenty-seven boonits. Starraven: Boonits? Mildew: How else would you measure a spooktacularity vector? (shakes head disparagingly) Laymen. Moonbane: Yeah, well, we’ve pretty much established that they’re here and we can see ‘em and that they’re (makes quotations with fingers) "spooktacular". What can we do about ‘em? Churchill: If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion... Smully: By all means, Mr. Prime Minister. Churchill: I don’t see why the young folks shouldn’t simply keep us around. We don’t take up much room, being non-corporeal and all; we don’t eat or bogart the stash; and we’re good company. if I may be so immodest. Dreamer: He makes a good point. Moonbane: What!?! You’re the one who called the feds in the first place! Starraven: No offense to Mister Churchill and his friends, but we’ve had some bad experiences with ghosts... Churchill: Really? Starraven: Really.... (Scene fades with a squiggly "flashback" effect". We see the Hippie Household, probably the living room; however, there is chaos everywhere. Things are flying through the air (pot plants, bongs, a toaster, a lava lamp, a Hello Kitty doll); Dreamer is hiding under a table, Moonbane is dodging debris, Cordelia stands off to the side looking annoyed. Starraven stands in foreground, challenging whatever dark presence has summoned forth the chaos.) Starraven: You stop this! You stop this right now! (We see the spectral force responsible. It is Richard Nixon, in evil wizard robes, standing arms outstretched, summoning forth the powers of shadow.) Nixon: No force on Earth can withstand the might of Richard Milhouse Nixon! I am pure power personified! Gaze upon my might, oh mortals, and tremble, tremble like bugs! (Dissolve back to the kitchen) Mildew: That’s some story. How’d you ever resolve your ghost problem? (The Hippies exchange nervous looks) Starraven: Oh... well, it worked out somehow... (There is a pounding noise from one of the kitchen cabinets) Nixon’s voice: Let me the frig out of here, you spit-mongers! (Moonbane whacks the cabinet.) Moonbane: Shut up you!
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