The Flamemaster 3000

Open, a boy and a girl kneeling down in the garage burning their Dad's "Playboys" and giggling.

DAD: (OS -- angry) Are you kids playing with matches?

KIDS: No.

Dad bursts into garage. Furious, but it's an act.

DAD: Don’t lie to me! Why in Sam Hill would you play with matches. (Suddenly smiling.) When you could play with this?!

Two shiny, plastic flame-throwers magically appear in the kids' hands.

KIDS: Wow! The Flamemaster 3000!

ANNOUNCER: (VO) Yes, kids love the Flamemaster 3000— 'cause kids love fire!

Shot of the kids running around burning the crap out of everything with their cute flame-throwers.

ANNOUNCER: (VO) The Flamemaster 3000!

Montage illustrates --

ANNOUNCER: (VO) It’s perfect for making smores, dealing with hoof-and-mouth outbreak and defending yourself from zombie attack!

And it's always perfect for Christmas! This holiday season, make your kids' eyes light up with joy! Give the Flamemaster 3000. They'll love it!

KIDS (in unison) 'Cause kids love fire!

Another announcer reads the following warning at auctioneer/Hog caller speed:

WARNING: Fire is not a toy. Fire may result in property damage, first, second and third degree burns and death. Ask your parents before buying the Flamemaster 3000 and use only under strict parental or adult guardian supervision according to product specifications. Do not use the Flamemaster 3000 on household pets, homeless people, parents, siblings, witches, or anybody, especially if you could get caught. Do not use the Flamemaster 3000 indoors. Do not use the Flamemaster 3000 outdoors. Do not use the Flamemaster 3000. Consult local laws and fire ordinances before using the Flamemaster 3000. The Flamemaster 3000 is illegal in all 50 states. Seriously, do not use the Flamemaster 3000. Do not buy the Flamemaster 3000. Purchase or sale of the Flamemaster 3000 is a Class A Felony. The JoyToy Corporation assumes no liability if this product is used either properly or improperly. There is no way to use the Flamemaster 3000 properly. For the love of God, we beg you not to use the Flamemaster 3000.

"Born to be Retired"

(To the tune of Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild")

Get my three-wheel tryke
Head out on the highway
Looking for my dentures
And the coupon that I saved

Gonna hit the Early Bird Special
Steal sugar packets and the butter plate
Complain to the manager, baby
Then I’ll be back by eight

Crawling like a turtle
Backing up the traffic
Taking up two lanes
And making young folks spastic

We fought Adolph Hilter, baby
Screw the Boomers who don't wanna save
Gonna spend the gummint’s money
Take it all to the grave!

Like a true World War II child
We were born
Born to be retired
Gonna drive so slow
Ain’t never gonna go

Born to be retired
Born to be retired

"I'll be Stalking You"

(to the tune of Sting's "Every Breath You Take")

When you take a nap, when you take a crap
When you take a break
When you grill a steak, I'll be stalking you
Every single day and every word you say
Recorded every day!
Call the cops on me
Get in your car and flee
I'll be stalking you
Oh can't you see I must make you bleed?
How my poor heart aches to stab you with a rake!
One day you will be gone, lost without a trace
I dream at night
Of making you erased
My telescope reveals your frilly lace
The police can’t find my secret hiding place
You can’t escape my cold, deranged embrace
Oh can't you see that you can’t be saved?
How my poor heart aches for your unmarked grave!
Your restraining order
Hurt my feelings, babe!
So you’re scared of me?
You think I’m a creep?
I’ll be stalking you
The voices in my head
Say you must be dead!
You can change your name
You can change your face
Move to outer space
I’ll be stalking you

Comedian's note: Yeah, yeah. I know. A song from the first POV of a psycho stalker. Yeah, the laughs just keep coming. T'aint funny, McGee. Well it is to me. Gallows humor is my default setting.

BTW, I actually like Sting. Just saying this particular song of his has always given me a serious dose of the creeps. Also can't help noticing how many of my friends, of both the XY and XX chromosonal descriptions, have restraining orders their own designated stalkers.

Pearl Jam Pizza

(to the tune of Pearl Jam's "Yellow Ledbetter")

In my fridge, I got a box of pizza
And it's been in there, maybe two
Maybe three, I don't know how many days
When I wake up, gonna have some pizza. Yeah.
Gonna eat it cold, or toss it in the microwave.
On second thought, I like it cold, yeah I love cold pizza.
When that pizza's kinda greasy, I know.
I said, I also like to heat it. I like that pizza cold or hot.
Either way. OK?

Yeah my girlfriend, she says don't eat that pizza
Yeah, that pizza's gonna kill you, that old Tombstone pizza
Gonna send you to an early grave.
That's what she said.

I said... Oh I don't think so. No.
I'd be dead already.
Gonna fire up a joint, and stuff that pizza in my face.

Ah yeah, do you like my dummy lyrics? Yeah, they don't make no sense.
But they rhyme and fit the music. Yeah.
And I know, and I know. I ain't got no shit to say!
But I say it anyway. Anyway! OK?
That's all I got to say.
That's all I got to say.
I don't... Don't wanna, oh... Yeah. Ooh... Ohh...
Insert some wisdom here!

The Rush Limbaugh Song

(to the tune of Stevie Nicks' "On the Edge of Seventeen")

Just like a right-wing thug …

Slings his shit

The shit he’s slinging

Rush, baby, Rush, baby, Rush

Just like a right-wing thug …

Slings his shit

The shit he’s slinging

Rush, baby, Rush baby, Rush

Heard his voice today

Yeah, I heard it all around me

Then I saw his face

On the TV screen

Like an ugly demon baby

Chomping on a fat cigar

While all his dittoheads

Nodded in agreement

Chorus

All that shit Rush said

It was hauntingly...

Familiar

Like a voice from Der Sturmer

And the fist of Dean Wormer

Preaching to the choir

His man mammeries

Like jiggling pancake batter

Chorus

Tuned in today... maybe will again...

Tomorrow

Come to think of it … liberals really

Suck

Burning flags and

Marrying fags

Aborting fetuses and

Taxing guys like Rush!

Guess I’ll vote Republican – and get a big fat tush!

I’m a dittohead! Now my brain

Has turned to mush!

I just love that shit he’s slinging …

Rush, baby, Rush, baby, Rush!

Nazi Track

Montage of American fitness fads.

ANNOUNCER: Today, more than ever before, people are looking for an exercise that will give them total cardiovascular fitness. 60 years ago, a group of people in Germany found it. We remember them today as Nazis.

EXT, GERMAN STREET - DAY.

Grainy black and white footage. Hitler screaming from a balcony.

HITLER: Seig heil! Ich bin ein schmeckle!

ANNOUNCER: Yes, in their desire to create a perfect race, the Nazis invented the perfect exercise. They called it "goose-stepping."

HITLER: Heil! Stompin-zie! Stompin-zie!

CROWD: Heil!

The crowd goes goose-stepping and seig-heiling down the street.

ANNOUNCER: Yes, of course, the Nazis laid waste to most of Europe and North Africa and killed millions of people in blind obedience to a psychotic, genocidal, cult of personality. But they were amazingly physically fit! Goose-stepping was the secret – as many people still know today!

EXT, ALLEY - NIGHT

Shot of crazed SKINHEAD, goose-stepping on broken bottles in his bare feet.

SKINHEAD: I do it all the time!

INT, GYM - DAY

VALLEY GIRL goose-stepping around various angry people working out.

VALLEY GIRL: Yah. Goose-stepping's like totally the secret. It's bitchin! But like people get all bummed out when I do that?

MAN: Stop doing that! You stoopid Nazi bimbo!

TRAINER: Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

MAN: Yeah! See you later, Nazi!

Talking to the camera as the TRAINER gives her the bum's rush.

VALLEY GIRL: Like, I don’t even know what a Nazi is, whatever! I totally wish I could like to it in my living room!

ANNOUNCER: Well, now you can! With the all-new "Strength Through Joy" Nazi Track, you can enjoy all the cardio and strength benefits of goose-stepping, with the added range of motion of the "seig heil" salute!

Some FAT GUY is working out at the ridiculous NAZI-TRACK contraption. His legs are strapped into giant rubber boots that force him to goose-step. Another pulley device jerks his arms up and down in a perpetual "seig heil" salute.

ANNOUNCER: How does it feel?

FAT GUY: Great! I’m really pumped up! Can I get off now?

ANNOUNCER: No!

FAT GUY: I’m really tired! I think I’m having a heart attack. I want it to stop!

ANNOUNCER: No!

FAT GUY: Please make it stop!

ANNOUNCER: No! You will stop when we tell you to stop! (addresses camera with steadily growing German accent) The same applies to you! You fat American swine, sitting on your couch and watching television! You disgust me! This machine will make you strong, not weak like the others! Order now, you swine! Order now! The number is on your screen!

Caption reads:

CALL-1-800-NZI-TRAK

CALL-1-800-NZI-TRAK OR WE WILL HAVE YOU KILLED!

Royal Shakespeare Dinner Theatre

INT, DINNER THEATER STAGE - NIGHT

RICHARD III strides onto stage and does his twisted, hunchback thing. Actor is Patrick Stewart type. Classically trained.

RICHARD III: Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of...

Lights up. Loud noise. From stage right, a metallic dessert counter slides into place with a sound like a pneumatic snake. It almost crushes the actor. He leaps out of the way just in time.RICHARD III: ... a bitch!

STAGE MANAGER strides to center stage. Charming. In a Jon Lovitz kind of way.

AUDIENCE of extremely old people looks at him. Not charmed yet.

STAGE MANAGER: Merry, good ticket-buying people. Forgivest thee or thou this thy humble servant. Zounds. I hast forgotten yon dessert selection. Prithee, behold our multitudinous flavors of ice cream and Apple Betty. Forsooth, etcetera.

His ass-kissing wins them over. But the Shakespearean actor is pissed.

RICHARD III: Mine gorge doth rise.

STAGE MANAGER: The fault is in thine ass, not the stars. Dig in!

AUDIENCE flocks to the dessert selection like the rats eating the Ernest Borgnine character in Willard.

RICHARD III: What in the bloody hell are you doing?

STAGE MANAGER: Keep the people happy, OK?

RICHARD III: This is Shakespeare!

STAGE MANAGER: Shakespeare? Gee. You think so?

RICHARD III: Yes! The Bard himself!

STAGE MANAGER: Really? Aw, I'm not respectful enough?

RICHARD III: You ...

STAGE MANAGER: Respectful? Pfft! Jesus, you stupid actors. Read a book sometime! The original Globe Theater had sword fights and coitus. In the audience! Now hit your mark, asshole! From the top!

Elizabethan music. The play must go on.

Open as before.

RICHARD III: Now is the winter of our discontent ...

OLD WOMAN: (in audience -- OS) Where's my Apple Betty?

RICHARD: III: Made glorious summer by this sun of...

OLD WOMAN: (OS) I didn't get my Apple Betty!

STAGE MANAGER: (OS) Behold, good woman! Thine Apple Betty appears with haste!

RICHARD III: York. And all the clouds that ... loured upon our house.

STAGE MANAGER: (OS) Ah, crap ...he unplugged it.

OLD WOMAN: I want my Apple Betty!

RICHARD III: In the deepest bosom ...

She climbs up on stage and confronts him.

OLD WOMAN: Well?

RICHARD III: Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled ... (looks at her) Apple Betty.

She glares at him.

STAGE MANAGER leaps on stage, hands her an Apple Betty.

She takes it.

STAGE MANAGER: Give the people what they want, asshole!

RICHARD III whips out rapier and stabs him.

The AUDIENCE applauds.