Saturday, September 19, 1998

Oral Office Update

INT, White House bedroom. CLINTON and HILLARY in bed -- not Hillbillies. CLINTON wakes up with a shocked expression on his face.

CLINTON: Dang, just had me the weirdest dream. You and me were hillbillies -- like Jed and Granny. Ain't that a kick in the head?

HILLARY snorts.

HILLARY: Just a dream, Bill.

CLINTON: Worse than that ... you cut me off 'cause I'd given up on health care. (puts hands over groin area nervously) "No more nookie for you." That's what you said.

HILLARY: That's no dream.

CLINTON: That ain't funny.

HILLARY: No it isn't. No more nookie for you.


HILLARY: Not until you deal with health care.

CLINTON: But Hon...we tried that, remember? Try it again, they'll carve me a new asshole. Another one. (he shifts uncomfortably)

HILLARY: That's your problem.

CLINTON: Can't you just...

Abruptly, she turns away from him, her back an S-curve, the bumps of her spine like the ridges of a frozen mountain range, impossible, impassible. Clinton reaches out to touch her.

CLINTON: How 'bout just a massage, then?

He strokes her back. Electric sparks shoot out. He jerks his hand away.

CLINTON: Owwwww.....It's that damn vast right wing conspiracy again, ain't it? They put his idea in your head! I know it!

HILLARY: Stop blaming everything on the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy.


ALIEN speaking into microphone looking at Interossiter display of HILLARY in bed.

ALIEN: Cut Bill off. No more nookie for you. Cut Bill off. No more nookie for you.

Cut to EXT, starfield. We hear a low, throbbing, thrumming noise due to the assholic convention of sound in the vacuum of space. A metallic sphere emerges into view: it looks like the Death Star out of Star Wars. It comes closer. In one quadrant, an enormous crack'n'peel label announces "VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR." Underneath, in smaller letters: "your ad here."

Go to: earth. EXT, rooftop. MINISTER FARRAKHAN squinting through a battered Tasco telescope.

FARRAKHAN: Goddamnit, I knew it! It's the cracker flying saucer! How come nobody believed me 'bout the cracker flying saucer?

INT: cavernous imperial audience chamber inside the VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR. NEWT, STARR and SCAIFE enter. The enormous, shimmering holographic form of Nixon's face appears before them. They kneel before their undead Emperor...

NIXON: I am the great and powerful Wizard of the Republican Party! Death has only made me stronger! What the fuck do you want?

SCAIFE: (in Darth Vader costume) We await your bidding, O master.

NIXON: Goddamnit, you know what my fucking bidding is. Dirty tricks. Do a number on that goddamn Arkansas hillbilly. Get to his wife! Put ideas in her pointy little head. Slap his hand when he reaches for the nookie jar! I told you what to do!

SCAIFE: We started.

NIXON: Goddamnit, don't start. Do it! Make a fucking example of him. He fucked with insurance. Nobody fucks with insurance. Nobody! That's the fucking third rail and he touched it and now he must pay. Clinton must be destroyed!

SCAIFE: We will destroy him, O Master.

NIXON: Dig for dirt. Throw some money at some hungry reporter on that American Spectator of yours. Keep throwing shit until some of it sticks!

SCAIFE: Yes, O Master.

NIXON: Today we shall see the democratic rebellion crushed for the...

Beeping noise.

NIXON: Our total domination of the...

More obnoxious beeping. NIXON stops talking.

We still hear the beeping noise. It's some gadget in NEWT's pocket.

Everybody turns to look at him, including the enormous and enormously displeased disembodied sepulchral head of NIXON. NEWT's desperately fishing in his pockets to find the beeping gadget...

NEWT: Uh...sorry.

NIXON: What the hell is that?

NEWT: PDA. Personal digital ...

NIXON: I know what the fuck it is!

SCAIFE: He's been unbearable, O Master. Ever since they put him on the cover of Wired magazine.

NIXON: You have failed me for the last time.

NEWT starts to choke. Continues to choke through the scene.

SCAIFE: I beg you not to kill him, O master.

NIXON: You're next, asshole.

SCAIFE: The plan, remember? We need him for the plan.

NIXON: The plan?

SCAIFE: Deprive Clinton of sex; Newt shuts down the government; we send an intern to the Oval Office with takeout food?

NIXON: -- and Clinton fucks himself out of the White House. Right. That's the plan.

SCAIFE: It's a very good plan.

NIXON: Of course it's a good plan! It's my fucking --

SCAIFE: He's turning blue, O Master.

NIXON: Oh, right.

NEWT stops choking.

Earth. EXT, city streets. Lone man running...

FARRAKHAN: (running through the streets) Watch the skies! Watch the skies!

The next day ...

EXT Washington DC. CLINTON in the Presidential limo. His driver is driving randomly around the beltway while CLINTON sits in the back, pouting, seething in the depths of sexual deprivation. He looks to the left, he looks to the right. Wherever he looks, everything seems sexual...

The Jefferson Monument. Very tit-like.

The Capitol dome. Owww.....

Washington Monument. Like an enormous, thrusting...

All those bursting cherries along the Potomoc.

He returns to the White House. SOCKS looks at him. CLINTON looks back. Smiles. SOCKS runs...

Go to: INT, White House bathroom. CLINTON taking cold shower...

CLINTON: Owww.....owwwwwwww.....goddamnit, oww. Cold showers my ass! This is supposed to work but is sure as hell ain't. Oww....

INT: hotel room. The Whitewater investigation team buried under a mountain of paper...

STARR: I can't believe this! He itemized the paperclips! Every last one of them!

FLUNKY: We've got to find something....

STARR: Then do it, OK? Do I have to do everything, people?

Go to: CLINTON in conference with JANET RENO.

RENO: ...may say you can't afford the budget for any more killer robots, but I can't afford to lose any more of my people.

CLINTON: (staring at her dreamy-eyed) Janet?

RENO: Sir?

CLINTON: Anyone ever tell you you've got beautiful eyes?

She looks at him. Blinks. Punches the shit out of him.

Go to black-eyed CLINTON at breakfast table, pouring mounds of saltpeter on his breakfast cereal, crunchingly eating it...

Go to, INT, Whitewater investigation team in an avalanche of paper...

FLUNKY: I'm afraid she did send thank-you cards.

STARR: Dingdong darn it! Throw somebody in jail or something. A woman or somebody who's dying. And harrass a journalist while you're at it...

FLUNKY: Yes sir.

STARR: (storming out) I'm having a very bad day, people!

INT, darkened parking garage. STARR storming along in a funk...

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Follow the pussy.

STARR: (stopping) Excuse me?

LINDA TRIPP steps out of the shadows.

LINDA: I said follow the pussy. It's all about pussy.

STARR: Get away from me!

LINDA: (grabbing him by the lapels) It's all about pussy, you little pussy -- don't you know that?

STARR: You're scaring me!

LINDA: Pussy!

STARR: Ew! I hate that word!

LINDA: (slaps him) Don't be a pussy, pussy! You want the President? Clinton's a dick -- wanna catch a dick? Find the pussy. Follow the pussy!

He runs away.


A tattered Washington Post blows into frame on the sidewalk. Headline reads: GOVERNMENT SHUT DOWN! Blows away. We see scuffed dirty shoes. Pan up to reveal FARRAKHAN, now in tatters, ringing a bell like the crazy prophet in The Stand.

FARRAKHAN: It's happening people! The Vast Right Wing Conspiracy! Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!

Go to, INT, CLINTON in staff meeting with Presidential interns, MONICA included, all of whom (though this may be a sex-starved distortion of Presidential perception) seem to be female and beautiful, none of whom seem to be wearing bras. It's day one of the governmental shut-down and he's just given them a peptalk.

CLINTON: ...assume additional duties. You up for it?

ALL OF THEM: (breathlessly) Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON blinks, pops a Spanish Fly bon-bon in his mouth, chews slowly, blinks again. All the women seem to be naked. He chews thoughtfully...

MONICA: Could I have one of those, Mister President? I think I want to put something in my mouth right now...

He smiles, hands her one. MONICA takes it. Slowly puts it in her mouth. Slowly, slowly chews. The other women shoot her dirty looks. One puffs up her mouth full of air, miming "No wonder she's fat." But CLINTON sees none of that. He's just chewing, chewing, chewing. MONICA does the same. They're in oral synch together...

CLINTON looks at MONICA; MONICA looks at him. Thick sexual tension. Rapid Tom Jonesish crosscutting of kissylip moues, winks, tongue licks...

CLINTON: (getting up from the table, stretching) Well, ladies. I'd like to thank y'all for com-com-com...for being here, but I guess that's it, y'all can go. Me? (loudly) Guess I'll take me a stroll back to windowless hallway adjacent to my study in the south south-west quadrant of the White House in approximately 7 minutes.

NIXON: And so it begins...


MARILYN MONROE singing seductively....

MARILYN: Happy birthday, Mr. President. Happy birthday to you.


MONICA: Can I suck your dick?

CLINTON leans back his head. Groaning....

CLINTON: Must...preserve...precious...bodily...fluids....

As in Porky's, NEWT and STARR have drilled a peephole into the White House and are peering in...

STARR: Ohmygod that's just awful.

NEWT: Let me see.

STARR: Ohmygod.

And so it goes on...

INT, Oval Office

ARAFAT walks into Oval Office. Sees CLINTON with fly open, dick hanging out.

ARAFAT: (Cornholio accent) Oh. A thousand apologies, affendi. Is this the customary greeting in your country?

He unzips his own fly -- but CLINTON shoves him out.

ARAFAT: Owww! The zeeeeeper!

Slams door.

CLINTON: (to Monica) Alone at last.

ARAFAT: (through the walls) Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: We have so much in common. I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: Bactine! Someone bring me the bactine!

MONICA: And I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: No, not rubbing alcohol you fool!

CLINTON: I've got plastic hair.

MONICA: And so do I!

They both smile wickedly. Clinch. Tongue-kiss. She slides down...

ARAFAT: Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: Wanna see my Southern strategy? (he slides down)

MONICA: No, no,'s my time.

CLINTON: (sliding back up) My you were raised right. But I see a way out of this, kiddo.

He reaches into a humidor stuffed with illegal, imported Cuban cigars -- thinks better of it -- reaches into another cheapo cigarbox and pulls out a White Owl...

The camera discretely pans to the window where ARAFAT is running around screaming in the Rose Garden...

Go to EXT, White House corridor. STARR and NEWT crouched down in the shadows. STARR peering in through the peephole...

STARR: It's so big!

And on....

INT, Oval Office. CLINTON and MONICA sit naked before a pentagram. Candles burn.

CLINTON: ...faust, aleph, null -- and let "do what thou wilt be the whole of the law!"

The candles flare. CLINTON turns, smiling charmingly to MONICA.

CLINTON: Anyways that's how we summon Satan back where I come from...

MONICA: Geez, Mr. President. You really know so much.

CLINTON: (looking at watch) Oh my word...the prayer breakfast. Gotta go, kiddo.

He runs out -- then runs back in for his pants and runs out again.

And so it goes on. The growing scandal. Throbbing just below the surface ready to burst at any moment...

INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there like beefeaters. Monolithic. Impassive.

MONICA walks by holding a pizza. Goes into President's office...

Next day...

MONICA walks by holding a sack of food from McDonalds.

Next day...

MONICA walks by with takeout from Long John Silver's.

GUARD #1: Something's up.

GUARD #2: You got that right.

Go to: INT, Oval Office...

MONICA and CLINTON sitting together, munching down on Taco Supremes...salsa packets and sacks from Taco Bell scattered recklessly across the room.

CLINTON: Goddamn this is better than sex.

MONICA: (mouth full) Uh-hmmm.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm the President and I can eat anything I want! To hell with cholesterol! Never say diet!

MONICA: (pointing) Mmmm-mmm.

CLINTON: Oh. Here you go, kiddo.

He hands her a packet of salsa.

MONICA: Mm-ooo.

CLINTON: You're welcome.

(They continue hog heaven)

And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows.

MONICA: You bastard!

CLINTON: I'm sorry, kiddo...

MONICA: My name's not kiddo!

CLINTON: Just the thought of honest Abe and little George Washington and the cherry tree. I just cain't...

MONICA: There's somebody else!

CLINTON: Hillary?

MONICA: I mean somebody else else.

CLINTON: There's nobody else else. (noticing the Secret Service agents) Oh. Hello, boys. Heh-heh.

AGENTS: Hello, Mister President.

CLINTON: Just a little old Christmas pageant we're rehearsing. Page 52.

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON: Ain't that right, kiddo. I mean, Miss...

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping.

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! That was totally convincing.

He goes back inside the office.

INT, Oval Office. CLINTON kneeling in prayer.

CLINTON: Carter committed adultery in his heart -- and thinking's the same as doing it? The Clinton corrollary: If'n you don't think you did it, you didn't. And I didn't, Lord. (boyish smile) Honest. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't do it, besides which I repent, so I don't think I'm gonna do it anymore, and that's the same as not doing it. And I defy you to list me one passage in Your Holy Word dealing with blow-jobs as adultery or defining sex qua sex. Just one...hmmm? I didn't think so. Amen.

INT, MONICA and LINDA at breakfast table. LINDA stirring tea. The spoon dissolves. MONICA doesn't notice.


MONICA: Oh. Like thanks.

LINDA slides the tea to MONICA who lifts it up, sips it.

MONICA: Mmmm...

LINDA: It's tannis root.

MONICA: Is that, like, organic?

LINDA: Eee-heee-heee ... something like that.

MONICA: (sipping) You're really something special, Linda.

LINDA: Eh-heh-heee. Thanks, dearie.

MONICA: Thank God I gotta friend in this goddamn town, y'know?

LINDA: (wincing at the word "God") Yessss. Apple?

She hands MONICA an apple. MONICA takes it. Starts to bite.

LINDA: No, no, no...the OTHER side, yesss. It's so

MONICA, obediantly, rotates the apple, bites from the other side.

LINDA: That's it. Eat, my dear. Eat.....

MONICA: (chatty, chum to chum, talking with a mouth full of apple) Have you ever like cared about somebody but they don't like care about you? Or maybe, like, they care, but they don't, like, show it? Or maybe they're just, like, using you?

LINDA: Mmmhmmmm. (leaning forward, conspiratorial) Anyone I know?

MONICA: As if! Like if you knew you'd just'd be all like, no way!

LINDA: Try me.

MONICA: Yeah. I mean no. I mean, like, I wanna tell you, but, like, I said I wouldn't and a promise is a promise.

LINDA: But a friend is a friend. It's not the same as telling someone else if you tell it to me, my pretty.


We hear a loud, audible CLICK.

MONICA: What was that?

LINDA: Nothing, nothing. Just my...guess I'm just an old lady and I'm having a little problem with my pipes, dearie. You will excuse me?

MONICA: Anyth...

LINDA: I'll be all right.

INT, bathroom. LINDA removes microcassette recorder from her snatch. Opens it, reverses tape.

LINDA: Goddamnit, I KNEW I should've gotten the auto-reverse. That's what I get for being a penny pincher...

She slides it back in. Returns....

LINDA: Much better. You were saying?

MONICA: Try the P...

LINDA: Just a minute.

LINDA spreads her legs.

LINDA: Ah. That's better....

EXT, MONICA's apartment. LINDA heading out the door. MONICA saying goodbye. She seems grateful...

LINDA: Now, remember what I told you! He needs to make a commitment.

MONICA: God you're such a friend.

LINDA: Just trying to help, dearie.

CLINTON: doing anything tonight? know I care about you...I'm thinking about you all the time, why do you think I'm calling? So I'm just thinking if you're not doing anything, you want to come over, kiddo? Maybe we could do something. Maybe we could try something new. I'm thinking, like, y' ever suborned purjury before?

Thursday, September 17, 1998

The Arkansas Hillbillies

Arkansas Hillbillies Theme -- to the tune of the Flat/Scrugs Beverly Hillbillies theme...

Let me tell you story 'bout a man named Bill
Arkansas Gov who liked cheap sex and pills
Then one day he was looking for some poon
And a phone call came from Carville and his goons
"You can get that nomination. For President, that is....
A Democrat. In Washington DC"

The kinfolk said, "Bill, get your ass in gear
There's toilets, running water, and a fridge that's full of beer"
They said "inside the beltway is the place you oughta be"
So they pulled in lotsa favors and moved to old DC
Washington, that is...
Movie stars...cocaine bars...
The Arkansas Hillbillies!

(banjo riff)

Go to INT, White House. CLINTON coming down the stairs dressed like a hillbilly. He hollers out...

CLINTON: Hey Chelsea -- you done laundered that money yet?

CHELSEA: (hollering back) Almost, Pa!

Hillbilly CLINTON enters an enormous livingroom space where freshly-washed, still-wet, dripping money is hanging from a clothesline. CHELSEA is pinning up more, taking bills from an old washtub...

CHELSEA: (wiping back her hair) I reckon that about does it, Pa.

CLINTON: I surely do appreciate it.

CHELSEA: come folks got a problem with what we's doing? I heard on the television set some folks think laudering money's bad!

CLINTON: Wellllll....I don't know about that, Hon. Way I see it, I reckon we gotta keep it clean. Specially with this here investigation. Old Ken Starr can get mighty peculiar.

HILLARY: (coming down stairs) Ken Starr -- that varmint! Don't even name that goldurned name in my house! Somebody oughta investigate him!

CLINTON: Don't get all het up, Hillary. I reckon he's just doing his job.

HILLARY: And I reckon he ain't. Trying his level best to put you in the pokey when all's you're trying to do is make this a decent country for hardworking ordinary people! Going after you when there's real corporate crime that needs a good investigator -- and Michael Moore cain't do everything, now can he?

CLINTON: No, I reckon he cain't.

HILLARY: Somebody especially oughta investigate them newfangled HMOs what's done a foul deed to plenty of sick folk and all what need good doctoring and some of my medicine -- but that ain't none of Ken Starr's concern! (holding up fist) I oughta give him some of this medicine.

CLINTON: Now Hillary...

HILLARY: Now Hillary nothing! You can sit here jawing all you want. I'm fixing to go out and tend to some sick folks in sore need of my ministrations! Somebody's got to do something, and you ain't gonna stop me.
CLINTON: I wouldn't dream to try.

She storms out.

CHELSEA: She's a regular Florence Nightingale, ain't she Pa?

CLINTON: (shaking head in admiration) She is at that. She is at that.

INT, hospital room. HILLARY leaning over a hospital bed where LOUISE (the one from the HARRY and LOUISE insurance commercials) lies suffering. Soap opera organ music through the whole bit...

HILLARY: Anythin' I cin do for you, hon?

LOUISE: How can you even help me...

HILLARY: Eh, fergit it -- what's done's done and I ain't studying the past. Them companies didn't do right by you but I reckon I can.

LOUISE: You're an angel. (coughing) How's... (coughing) How's...

HILLARY: How's Harry?

LOUISE: (nodding)

HILLARY: Harry's going to.... Harry's going to be just fine, darling.

LOUISE: You're a (coughing) bad liar...Hillary.

HILLARY: Goldurn it I ain't gonna stand for it! I'll make sure you get doctored up! And Harry too!

LOUISE: You can't. (coughing) No one can. The insurance companies. The HMOs. You tried...

HILLARY: Then, by thunder, I'll try again! I'll do it, Louise -- any which ways I can!

LOUISE looks up at her. Tearful. Grateful. Near death.

Firey, militant determination clamps down on HILLARY's face...

She squeezes LOUISE's hand.

Sunday, September 6, 1998

Gorilla Suit Jesus

What the end of time...they don't let you into heaven because of your attitude towards Messiahs in Gorilla suits?

No blasphemy intended. Hear me out. It's an important theological point.

If you take the New Testament literally, Jesus pulled a fake-out on the Jews.


As every good little girl and goy is taught in Sunday School, the Jews were expecting a triumphant Messiah. God sent them a humble carpenter instead -- the old King in Disguise trick. The Jews didn't believe that this working class guy in sandles was the Messiah because they were bad. Jesus, meanwhile, performed miracles -- but only when the people who didn't believe in Him weren't looking. If you believed already, then He would do the miracle. If you needed proof, you didn't get a miracle -- that was the rule. Besides which, Jesus wouldn't answer a straight question. Are you the Messiah? What do we do about work on Sunday? What wine goes best with fish? He acted sort of insulted and either answer with a riddle or walk away. Like -- why are you asking me this? You should already know.

So now, this time around, it's the Christians expecting the triumphant return of the King of Kings. Now WE think the Messiah is coming as a conquering king. OK. What if, yet again, Jesus pulls a fast one? What if Jesus returns -- not as a gorilla -- but a man in a gorilla suit? The Gorilla Suit Jesus...

We take you now -- live -- to the TELEVANGELIST CONVENTION at the Golgotha Inn Convention Center Auditorium. CHARLTON HESTON, dressed as Moses, is addressing the National Association of Religious Broadcasters.

CHARLTON HESTON: I'm not a prophet but I play one on television.

(They laugh -- then get cut off by some kind of noise -- a disturbance from above. Everybody looks up -- rows and rows of brittle, blow-dried hair moving as one...)

HESTON: What the hell...

We hear Oooh-oooh sounds -- then a man in a gorilla suit drops down from the scaffolding holding the stage-lighting. It's...GORILLA SUIT JESUS!

GORILLA SUIT JESUS: I am the Gorilla Suit Jesus! (conventioneers recoil in horror) I am the way, the tru-oo-ooth and the banana. Follow Me!

SWAGGART: Blasphemer! You can't be Jesus!

GORILLA SUIT JESUS: How do you know? I'm in a gorilla suit!

ORAL: Because it says in the Bible our loving and forgiving savior is coming to destroy the world with fire!

FALWELL: Yeah! The fire next time!

ORAL: You can't fool us!

GORILLA SUIT JESUS: Oh wicked generation that knows Me not! I speak unto thee the tru -- ooo -- ooo -uth yet ye hear it not! (He climbs back up onto the ceiling) Eeeeee! Eeeeee!

SWAGGART: Goddamnit, this is worse than that Little League World Series game!

FALWELL: Stop him!

They all rush outside....


GORILLA SUIT JESUS emerges from an air vent. He runs to the edge where the TELEVANGELISTS, down in the parking lot, are shaking their fists at Him. GORILLA SUIT JESUS screams, shows teeth, pounds his chest. And then begins shouting down at the multitudes...

GORILLA SUIT JESUS: Oh hateful wicked people who-ooh dost ever kill my prophets whom I have sent to make straight the way before me! Did I not even send unto thee the Kong whom ye didst kill with machine gun fire -- both in the original version and even unto the Dino DeLaurentis remake, which didst suck? Didst thou not put Diane Fossey to the sword whom I had sent forth to minister unto the gorillas in the mist? Hypocrites! Ye have heard it said "thou shalt place one box upon another to draw unto you the bananas from the top of the cage," yet though dost pluck the banana from thy neighbor's eye while slipping on thine own banana peel! It has been said "thou shalt see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," but I say unto thee RELEASE the monkey nor cage him not nohow. Ye have heard it said "love of monkey is the roo--oo--oot of all evil," but I say unto thee thou shalt love the monkey in the middle, nor spank thine own monkey, not thy neighbor's monkey, nor even thine own but love thy monkey even as thy self!

CHARLTON HESTON: (still in Moses costume, holding high powered rifle and looking in scope) Damn dirty ape.

We see GORILLA SUIT JESUS from HESTON's POV in the rifle scope. HESTON fires. GORILLA SUIT JESUS visibly takes the bullet, staggers dangerously close to the roof's edge...

GORILLA SUIT JESUS: And they knew-oo-oo me not...

He falls from the roof. We hear a thud...

The televangelists cheer. Suddenly the skies darken. Lightning crashes. The GRIM REAPER appears from behind a cloud waving a bony hand like Porky Pig going th-th-that's all folks...

VOICE OF GOD: OK. Now I'm really pissed...

HESTON: (handing Oral Roberts the rifle) Here. Take this.

HESTON runs. More judgmental wrath brewing in the sky. Fire. Brimstone. Smog...

VOICE OF GOD: Who did this?

ORAL looks over at dead body of GORILLA SUIT JESUS. Then down at the rifle.

ORAL: Uh-oh.

Saturday, September 5, 1998

God hates puppets

What the end of time...they don't let you into heaven, not because of something obvious like stealing, adultery or murder, but something trivial and stupid you'd never even thought of. Like puppets. Specifically, your attitude regarding puppets ...

ROD SERLING: (walking out, holding a limp ventriloquist's dummy in hands) I hold in my hands a sort of puppet pieta ... a very dead puppet, despite occasional appearances to the contrary. But his intermittent animation at cheesy nightclubs and children's birthday parties is only the ventriloquist's art. In point of fact, this effigy possesses neither a mind nor the instruments of speech. A lifeless figure of wood, resin, paint and string. But...don't feel sorry for this puppet -- or ventriloquist's dummy, as the case may be -- for this dummy was never alive in the first place. (drops dummy) Did you know that some religious groups consider puppets to be instruments of the devil, especially Danny O'Day? They're idiots. But in the Twilight Zone, idiots are often right. Consider what happens when you don't heed their advice ...

EXT - Pearl Gates
YOU stand before ST. PETER. He sits, like a Maitre D' at a lectern, before the entrance to Heaven. Looking into an enormous book. Not finding your name...

ST. PETER: (looking up from book) OK, pal. I'm sorry to tell you this. You ain't in the book. (reaching for Lake-O-Fire button)

YOU: Wait a minute!

ST. PETER: Hmmm?

YOU: I don't get it. What'd I do wrong? Just tell me that...

ST. PETER: What do you think, pal?

YOU: I didn't cheat on my wife. I never hurt anybody. I didn't steal -- not even a paper clip.

ST. PETER: Yeah, yeah. What about puppet shows?

YOU: Excuse me?

ST. PETER: Think back. You recall ever putting on any puppet shows?

YOU: Puppet shows? I don't remember that ...

ST. PETER: You don't, huh? Allow me to jog your memory, pal. You performed a puppet show once at your nephew's birthday.

YOU: I'm still not remembering...

ST. PETER: The book remembers. (points to a page) It's right here, pal. April 17, 1978...

YOU: Oh yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah. OK. Right. I couldn't afford a present, so I... Right. OK, OK, so I put on a puppet show. So what?

ST. PETER: (closing book) So, there it is, pal.

YOU: There what is?

ST. PETER: It's the puppets, OK? For what it's worth, I'm sorry. This is the part of the job I hate. (reaching for the trap door button)

YOU: WHAT...whoa, wait a minute, whoa whoa whoa, hold on -- you mean you won't let me into Heaven because of puppets?

ST. PETER: (coldly) God hates puppets, pal.

YOU: What do you mean God hates puppets?

ST. PETER: I mean God hates puppets. It says so in the Bible.

YOU: Where?

ST. PETER: The part about the idols.

YOU: What?

ST. PETER: Where it says no graven image...

YOU: That's not the same as puppets!

ST. PETER: Yeah it is. Sorry.

YOU: A puppet's not the same thing as an idol! I don't worship puppets. I don't get down on my knees and...

ST. PETER: Yeah, yeah. There you go -- defending puppets. (shakes head) That just proves my point.

YOU: But --

ST. PETER: (pushes button, dropping you into lake of fire -- then shakes head, shuddering with disgust) Freaking puppet worshiper.