The Scene: Louisville, Kentucky. Monday. 6 pm. The "Spy Guys" -- the Skipster, Mr. Winter, Glory Becker, John Slate, Kitt Kittridge and Buffy Pleasant -- are riding in a rented seven-passenger mini-van. Thanks to Slate's tracking device, they have successfully tracked the elusive key for the Doomsday Clock to the UTS Terminal at Louisville International Airport, where it was transferred to a local delivery truck. They have followed the truck for a few hours, intently watching their portable GPS receiver/tracking device for any indication that the package containing the key is being delivered. They are now in traffic, following the truck to its next stop. Glory is driving, and Slate is "riding shotgun," keeping a sharp eye on the tracking device that they have named "Carmen." Buffy and the Skipster are in the short middle seat, while Mr. Winter and Kittridge are sharing the large rear seat.
Kittridge (to no one in particular): I hate sitting in this enclosed mini-van. It's too confining. It makes me crazy.
Everyone ignores Kittridge.
Glory: How late do these guys deliver?
Slate: The latest I ever got a delivery from UTS was around 8 pm. But that was during the Christmas season.
Buffy: Whoever shipped the key probably paid for the "Hip Hop Bunny Express One-Day Delivery."
Kittridge: The what?
Buffy: "Hip Hop Bunny Express." Haven't you seen the commercials? They have a cute little man in a bunny outfit that hops around singing, "If you need it sent in one day, then Hip Hop Bunny will show you the way... hip-hop-hop... happy hip-hop-hop..."
Kittridge (interrupting): I think we get the picture.
Buffy: I once sent a cake to my aunt in Chattanooga that way. It cost a lot, but it did arrive on time.
Glory: Well, it looks like "Hip Hop Bunny" is about to happy-hip-hop to deliver another Easter egg.
They pull over as the delivery truck comes to a stop. After a minute, they see the driver, who is wearing a bright yellow baseball cap with plastic rabbit ears, emerge with a small brown box. A small red dot on the GPS screen starts flashing.
Slate: That's it! That's the key!
In a flash, Glory bolts out of the mini-van and races towards the delivery driver.
Glory: Freeze, rabbit! FBI!!! (The surprised delivery driver turns and faces Glory, who has produced a fake FBI badge. Glory grabs the package. After a short pause, she points to his rabbit-eared baseball cap.) Don't you find that incredibly demeaning?
Driver (stammering and nodding his head)
Glory snatches the cap off his head.
Glory: There. I've just impounded it as evidence. If you breathe a word of this, I'll have you thrown in prison for ninety-nine years, under section forty-seven, part thirteen, sub-paragraph twenty-two of the Patriot Act. Now get your ass out of here!
Driver: Th-thank you... (The hapless driver gets in his vehicle and peels out of there, nearly colliding with a passing cement truck.)
Glory saunters back to the mini-van with a smirk on her face, and the pilfered baseball cap placed jauntily on her head. She sits in the driver's seat and holds the small package up.
Glory: Ta-da! Package here for a "D. McQuickly," whoever he or she is, at 1331 Hasenpfeffer Avenue. (Glory hands the package to Slate, who begins carefully unwrapping it.)
Mr. Winter: Very nice work, Agent Becker. Now we move on to the next step.
Kittridge: The next step??? We got what we came for!
Mr. Winter: Mr. Kittridge... We may have recovered the key, but we still have no earthly idea why it was stolen, or who stole it.
Slate has unwrapped the package and is studying the key intently.
Kittridge: So... what are you saying here? We give it back???
Glory: I think that's exactly what Mr. Winter is saying here, Sparky.
Skipster: But with a few added extras...
Slate: Such as a micro mini-cam and microphone combination... (which he has carefully affixed to the key. Slate begins re-wrapping the package.)
Buffy: Oh, wow! So now we can really spy on the bad guys, huh?
Skipster: And listen to everything they're saying.
Glory: Now... Who gets to be the delivery bunny? (She smiles.)
A few minutes later, a very angry Kitt Kittridge, wearing a bright yellow baseball cap with plastic rabbit ears, stalks through the main entrance of 1331 Hasenpfeffer Avenue. He finds himself standing in a reception area. The receptionist, wearing a huge nose ring, glances up.
Kittridge (muttering sullenly)
Receptionist: What? Speak up. I can't hear you!
Kittridge (speaking up)
I said, I got a package here for a "D. McQuickly." (pause) Hip hop.
Receptionist: Oh, yes. Mister McQuickly. I'll sign for it.
Kittridge (clearing his throat)
Sorry, ma'am. He has to sign for it personally. (pause) New rules... ever since that... that unfortunate accident last week... in Pasta Fazool.
Receptionist: What accident?
Kittridge: It was... it was that unfortunate one. (pause) You know... (pause) He has to sign for it personally. (pause) New rules. (pause) Hip. (pause) Hop.
Receptionist: I said that I'll sign for it.
Kittridge loudly slams his hand down on the table.
Kittridge: DAMNIT!!! NOW THE HIP HOP BUNNY IS GETTING PISSED!!! GET HIS ASS OUT HERE NOW OR I'M TAKING THIS DAMNED THING BACK, RIGHT AFTER THE HIP HOP BUNNY YANKS THAT DAMNED RING OUT OF YOUR UGLY NOSE AND SHOVES IT DOWN YOUR UGLY THROAT!!!
The Receptionist picks up the phone.
Receptionist: Mr. McQuickly? There's a crazed rabbit out here, with a package you need to sign for.
A few moments later, McQuickly enters through a door. He is tall and slender, with light colored hair, and speaks with a clipped British accent.
McQuickly: Oh, this is such a bother! I don't see why...
Kittridge cuts him off.
Kittridge: HEY!!! THE HIP HOP BUNNY DON'T WANNA HEAR NO SHIT OUT OF YOU, EITHER! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP AND SIGN FOR THE DAMNED PACKAGE!!!
McQuickly nervously looks around.
McQuickly: Uh... where... where am I supposed to sign?
Kittridge looks around and snatches a desk calendar.
Kittridge: SIGN THAT, YOU TWIT!!!
McQuickly nervously signs. Kittridge glares at him and shoves the package into his hands.
Kittridge: Thank you, and... a happy hip-hop day to you. (Kittridge turns on his heel and boldly strides out the door, angrily tossing the detested bunny-eared baseball cap into the bushes as soon as he is out of sight. He climbs into the mini-van and slumps into the back seat.)
Skipster (suppressing a smile)
So, Kitt... How's tricks?
Buffy: Silly rabbit. (giggling) Tricks are for kids. (The Skipster and Buffy burst out laughing. Kittridge glares at them.)
Kittridge: You know... I really hate the both of you...
Slate: Shhh! (Slate turns up the volume on the micro mini-cam and microphone combination.) The package is being unwrapped.
They can hear the sound of tearing paper through the speakers, as they all watch the video monitor. Suddenly, McQuickly's smiling face comes into view. Mr. Winter reacts with a start.
Mr. Winter: Oh, my Lord!
Skipster: What? What is it?
Mr. Winter: It appears that we've delivered a device that could destroy the world... (There is a long pause as Mr. Winter shakes his head.) ...into the hands of...
Glory: Mr. Winter!!! Who? Who is it???
Mr. Winter: Monty Python's Flying Circus! We've delivered it to Eric Idle!!!
TO BE CONTINUED...