Simpson/Lynch Studios

Creative Minds at Work

2011-05-21T19:00:00.000-04:00

Skip sez: I figured it was time to add another post to our long-neglected blog, and since my partner D.M.L. is busy re-writing the script for our upcoming graphic novel, I thought I'd give a few (very few, based on the weekly site reports I keep getting every Sunday) of our gentle readers a peek behind the scenes, as it were, to the "inner workings" of Simpson/Lynch Studios, where along the way I plan on divulging a few of our "trade secrets." Heh heh heh.

David sez: Oh, terrific. Here's where I get to do "damage control!"

Skip sez: First of all, David comes up with a story. Then he emails it to me, where I do the art.

David sez: Luckily, I save all of my original art, so I can someday sell it for big bucks on eBay!

David sez: I think mine was almost as good as Skip's...

Skip sez: That concludes our tour through the inner workings of Simpson/Lynch Studios. Please be sure to grab a complimentary copy of Dewey Mellen's Pleasantview Poop Sheet, and purchase a souvenir t-shirt and a Kewl Beanz! coffee mug, on your way out.

David sez: *sigh*

Skip sez: Vootie!

David sez: Oh, shut up! I mean, thanks for your time, fellow babies!

Poe, Poe, Pitiful Me... or Us... or Something...

2011-03-22T04:25:00.012-04:00

The party... That is, the partnership... is not over!

(Silver Fox here, fellow babies.)

Ever since Skip and I torpedoed... I mean, retired... the ongoing Pleasantview storyline (see previous post, and about eight million leading up to it), this blog has been without a breath of fresh air. Or stagnant air, either, for that matter... but I digress.

Although both of us have been tied up with our real -- and separate -- lives (Skip's in ~~Alabama~~ Virginia, and mine in Massachusetts), we haven't given up on our partnership, and we will soon embark on ~~begging~~ submitting our latest joint project to prospective publishers.

Long-time readers of my solo blog, The Lair of the Silver Fox, may remember an Edgar Allan Poe parody I wrote entitled "The Tell-Tale Timex" back in 2009. Well, true to form, Skip ~~horned in on~~ was inspired by it, and we re-worked the narration slightly to render it in ~~comic book~~ graphic literature format.

Here's page one:

And if you're having trouble reading the narrative captions, here they are, reprinted from the original post on my "Foxyblog":

Insane? Me? Is that what they're saying?

That I'm crazy, mad, wacky, zany, pixilated, Looney Tunes, unhinged, demented, full-goose-bozo, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, and otherwise missing a few flights of stairs to the attic?

No. Certainly not.

Not me.

Anyway, fellow babies, that's just a teaser, meaning that the above is all you get. For free, anyway. Heh.

When -- not "if and when" -- it gets sold and published, we'll let you know.

Thanks for your time.

The Fourth Wall FALLS!

2010-10-21T23:35:00.002-04:00

Scene One: The conference room of the newly-built Simpson/Lynch Studios complex in Pleasantview, Alabama.

It's approximately 9 a.m. Seated at the opposing heads of the conference table are the Skipster and the Foxster. Luke Tian sits on one side of the table, near the Foxster's right. Across from Luke, near the Foxster's left, sits Gretchen Von Grüber, the Skipster's former fiancée. Near the opposite end of the table's side sits Vickie Wickie, near the Skipster's left. Tara King, the Foxster's former girlfriend, sits directly across from Vickie, near the Skipster's right. At Tara's feet is Orson, the Foxster's cat.

Foxster: Before we officially begin today's meeting, I'd like everyone to welcome Gretchen back to our little group. (All save Gretchen applaud politely, Foxster, Tara, and Luke somewhat vigorously, Vickie less so, Skipster even less so.) She'll be taking the title of Executive Assistant, handling travel arrangements for SnL personnel, guest accommodations, and similar duties, which will free up our Director of Operations (The Foxster indicates Vickie with a wave of his hand.) to concentrate on some of the more business-related needs of our new studio.

Gretchen (softly): Thank you to all of you. I... I am certainly happy to have come back.

Tara: Well, as you may or may not know, Gretchen, there isn't much--

Suddenly, Tara is interrupted by an Unseen Voice.

Unseen Voice: CUT!!!

The Director of Pleasantview rushes angrily onto the conference room set, looking all around him.

Director: "Cut?" Who the hell yelled "cut?" This is my show, dammit!

"Tara" (dropping character and muttering): Who the hell cares who said it? This is a boring scene anyway!

The door to the conference room opens. Skip Simpson (the real one!) and David M. Lynch (the real one!) enter, followed by several members of the Pleasantview cast: "Dr. Jane Kildeer," "Milo Fenderbender," "Barry Cabana," and various others.

Skip: Well, it's our show, too, and I'm the one who yelled "cut!"

Director: Oh! So sorry, Mr. Simpson!

"Tara": Oh, my God! It's the executive producers!

"Gretchen" (dropping character, and her German accent): Don't you mean "ohmigods," you dumb [expletive deleted]?

"Tara" (to "Gretchen"): Don't be a jerk. The cameras aren't rolling any more!

As if on cue, everyone in the scene that was being filmed drops character.

"Foxster": Oh, good! Can I take off these stupid sunglasses now? (He does so.) Now I can see!

The small crowd of actors and actresses began conversing among themselves.

Skip: Uhh, folks? (brief pause) FOLKS!!! May I -- may we -- have your attention?

David: What Skip's trying to say is... EVERYBODY SHUT UP!!! (Most of the assembled group laughs. Then, all fall silent.)

Skip (grinning): Thanks, David. (to all) Okay, listen up, everyone. The Blogger executives wanted to come here and make this announcement, but David and I thought this would sit better if it came from us. Briefly... Pleasantview has been cancelled.

Various members of the crowd express variations on "What?" including "what the hell," "what the [expletive deleted]," etc.

"Vickie" (beginning to cry, as "Tara" rises from her chair and walks over to console her while "Orson the Cat" follows "Tara"): B-but... why?

David: The usual reason, kiddo. Low ratings.

"Vickie" (tearfully): It's not fair! I tried so hard! We all did!

David: Of course you did. You were great, "Vickie." The Pleasantview episodes featuring you were the highest-rated ones! (David looks at several of the others.) You were all great.

"Gretchen" gets up from her chair at the conference table and storms off the set, quickly returning with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. She stands near "Vickie's" chair, close to "Tara."

"Skipster": Hey! You can't smoke in here!

"Gretchen": Oh, shut up, you scrawny sack of [expletive deleted]! You're lucky I didn't bring a mirror and a few lines of coke!

"Vickie" (timidly): Gee, "Gretchen," you're not going to smoke that thing near me, I hope?

"Gretchen": You shut up, too, you mousy little twerp! [Expletive deleted], you're almost as whiny as (pointing at the "Foxster") "she" is!

"Foxster": I am not whiny!

David (trying to lighten the mood of the room): Yeah, you are. I'm certainly not like that in real life! (Most of the people in the room laugh, including the "Foxster.")

"Foxster" (to "Gretchen"): You're just jealous because I have better hair than you do.

"Milo" walks up to the "Foxster's" chair, leans over, and plants a little kiss on the "Foxster's" cheek.

"Milo": You go, girl! You've got better hair than everyone... except for me! (All laugh... except "Gretchen.")

"Dr. Kildeer" walks over to "Gretchen."

"Dr. Kildeer" (to "Gretchen"): And don't you dare talk that way to my kid sister, you!

"Tara" (placing her hands protectively on "Vickie's" shoulders): Or my best friend!

"Gretchen": Fine. Whatever! (turning to Skip and David) So, we've all been [expletive deleted] fired?

Skip: No, not fired. Cancelled! And you'll still get your residuals.

"Gretchen": Yeah, right! As if anyone ever views the old episodes... except for you two!

David (to the others, ignoring "Gretchen"): And it's not the end of Pleasantview completely! In fact, Skip and I still have a few isolated stories that we want to do as stand-alone episodes... someday.

"Skipster": Meaning, a bunch of script drafts that you refuse to throw away? (All laugh... except "Gretchen.") Or is this just another example of your well-known need for "closure?" (All laugh... except "Gretchen.")

David (chuckling): Yeah, something like that... to both. (pause) By the way, everyone, there's a "wrap party" tonight. Eight p.m., on the Kewl Beanz! set. We've invited the cast members who aren't here, of course, and we hope you'll all attend.

"Barry": I suppose Ben Affleck will show up, and maybe even Jack Black...

David: Actually, we didn't think to invite any of our special guest stars from previous episodes...

"Barry": Like that'd stop Affleck? (Several people laugh.)

"Tara" (to Skip and David): So, does this mean that all the stuff planned for me in Season Two will eventually get used? I mean, there's the sub-plot about my book, and the stuff about my background... (David smiles and nods.) And there's gotta be a few people who wanna know if I get back together with (pointing to the "Foxster") "Mary" over there.

"Foxster" (laughing, as a still-standing "Milo" gently strokes the "Foxster's" hair): You just like filming the love scenes, sweetie, knowing you're not my type in real life! (All laugh... except "Gretchen.")

"Tara" (smiling widely and winking playfully at the "Foxster"): If you say so, fuzzy! (All laugh... except "Gretchen.")

"Foxster": *sigh* Well, screw it. What's done is done. (brief pause) I'm gonna shave this bushy beard off, and audition for that off-Broadway musical I've been looking at.

"Vickie" (sadly): Well, the only thing I'm going to audition for is my church choir.

Skip: "Vickie," you can sing? ("Vickie" nods.) Oh! I didn't know that.

All (except for Skip, David, "Gretchen," and the Director): YOU NEVER ASKED!!! (All laugh... except "Gretchen.")

"Gretchen" tosses her finished cigarette into "Vickie's" Kewl Beanz! coffee mug. "Vickie" grimaces with distaste.

"Gretchen": Awww, [expletive deleted] it! Who cares? If I had to hand out one more [expletive deleted] yellow rose, I think I'd puke, anyway! (pause) Okay, kiddies, I'm outta here. I'm gonna go bar-hopping, and maybe I can get laid tonight! Take it easy, suckers! ("Gretchen" exits.)

"Dr. Kildeer" (softly): And good riddance.

"Barry" (to Skip and David): So, when you make these so-called "stand-alone episodes," are you going to use us? Or are you going to re-cast?

Skip: We intend to use most of you, if at all possible, depending on your other commitments. (Offstage, there is the sound of a slamming metal door as "Gretchen" exits the building.) Then again... (he pointedly adds) there are one or two roles which we may re-cast...

"Dr. Kildeer": Well, I might as well get going, too. (to "Vickie") You need a ride, sis?

"Vickie" (standing): Sure, thanks. Maybe I can get to Bible study on time, for a change. ("Vickie" and "Dr. Kildeer" walk off-stage. They both wave to the remaining group.) 'Bye, folks! God bless! See you at the party tonight! ("Vickie" and "Dr. Kildeer" exit.)

"Milo": That "Vickie" is so sweet!

"Skipster": And what an amazing actress!

"Barry": Yup. Ya gotta love her.

"Tara": Well, I'm gonna split, too. (She playfully nudges "Orson" with her foot.) Ready to go, fur-face?

"Orson" stands on his hind legs and removes the head of his cat costume, revealing the sweaty face of a five-year-old boy.

"Orson": Okay, Mommy! ("Orson" and "Tara" say their good-byes, and leave.)

"Luke" (to Skip and David): Uhhh, if you guys don't mind my asking this, can you give me the phone number of that actress you hired a few weeks ago to play my teen-aged sister, Amy? I'd... uhhh... like to ask her out.

Skip: Well... we'll call her first, and if it's okay with her, we'll give it to you at the wrap party.

"Luke": Kewl beanz! (All laugh.)

"Barry": Hey, "Luke," isn't that kinda ...sick?

"Luke" (laughing): Well, for one thing, she's not really my sister...

"Barry": I know that! But... she's only fourteen!

"Luke": Uh-uh, don't worry. Her character is fourteen. She's nineteen. First question I asked her! (All laugh, as "Luke" walks off-stage.) Gong xi fa cai, everyone!

David (to himself): Funny, I thought that was usually reserved for the Chinese New Year...

One by one, the actors and the Director say their good-byes and leave. Finally, only Skip, David, The "Foxster," and "Milo" remain.

David (to the "Foxster"): Hey... You mentioned shaving that beard. How do you look without it?

"Foxster" (smiling): Drop-dead gorgeous. Why?

David: No, I meant age-wise.

"Foxster": Heh. Like a teenager!

David: Great! I have a flashback storyline planned for you and "Barry Cabana." Its working title is "Young Foxster."

"Foxster": Terrific! (brief pause) See you guys tonight! (The "Foxster" and "Milo" say their good-byes and exit.)

After a very short pause, Skip walks toward the conference room door. He looks back at David, who is visually surveying the room.

Skip: Well... Are you coming?

David (after a long pause): You know, I am really going to miss this place.

Skip: Mm.

David looks at Skip, smiling knowingly. Both exit.

FADE OUT

Skip's Voice (from off-screen): Hey! You can leave, too!

Uhhh... You mean me, Mr. Simpson?

Skip's Voice (from off-screen): Yeah, you, Mr. Omnipotent Narrator!

Oh. Okay.

THE END^*... for now.

^*The end of Pleasantview, not the end of the blog, that is!

A Special Announcement... Kinda.

2010-10-03T01:01:00.003-04:00

From the Real-World Team of Simpson & Lynch:

After posting only one chapter of what we call "Season Two" of Pleasantview nearly a month ago, this blog seems to be collecting more than its share of virtual dust, dunnit?

Briefly: This is a combination of Skip's and David's time-consuming real-world concerns, as well as the fact that our thirty-year-old partnership -- if you don't count a hiatus of seventeen years! -- has recently gelled into not just one, but two exciting projects. These "projects" involve an opportunity for the two of us to actually make some money from our collaborative efforts, and that's something that we haven't seen (as a partnership) for over twenty years!

Want a hint? Okay, here goes: In a way, these projects can be described as "something old, something new, something borrowed, and -- heh, heh -- something blue!"

And no, it has nothing to do with a wedding! Skip's wedding to the lovely Sandy Herbert isn't scheduled until 2012, and as for David... Yeah, right.

So stay tuned, sports fans!

David says: "Thanks for your time."

And Skip says: "Vootie!"

Th-th-th-that's all, folks!

Pleasantview, Season Two Opener ~~ EXTRA! EXTRA! Read All About It!

2010-09-05T12:01:00.001-04:00

From the Front Page of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet:

FLAMES ENGULF SIMPSON/LYNCH STUDIOS!

(article contributed by Editor-in-Chief, staff reporter,

and advertising director, Dewey Mellen)

Flames engulfed the Simpson/Lynch Studios at 35 Woodland Drive in Pleasantview today, at approximately 6 a.m. in the morning. This was due to a blaze which broke out when a fire began. Pleasantview Volunteer Fire Department personnel were on the scene well before 9 a.m.

The fire's origin is being investigated by the Pleasantview Volunteer Fire Department, although early reports say that the apparent cause was an electrical fire started by a faulty computer power supply. Fire Chief Chester Minnit of Pleasantview was quoted as saying, "Our early reports say that the apparent cause was an electrical fire started by a faulty computer power supply."

According to Town Clerk Carol Brady, everything in the studio was up to fire codes, but there is no reason at this time to suspect foul play. Miss Brady was quoted as saying "Everything in the studio was up to fire codes, but there is no reason at this time to suspect foul play."

There were no deaths or injuries during the fire. The owner of the property, Skip Simpson, is apparently away on business. Mr. Simpson's former fiancée, Gretchen Van Grüber, apparently left several weeks ago for parts unknown. Mr. Simpson's partner, Mr. David Foxster, moved into the Old Fenneman Estate on One Lakeside Drive in Pleasantview months ago, as well. Mr. Foxster was not available for comment. The only other resident of the studio is a Mr. Luke T. Ahn, who is reportedly away on other business.

According to Simpson/Lynch Studios' receptionist, Carol Nolastnamegiven, she was outside the building at the time the fire began before officially reporting to work, enjoying the backyard and the surrounding scenery while drinking herbal tea and smoking an herbal cigarette. When asked why she did not call the PVFD immediately, instead of the allowing the neighboring families to do so instead, Miss Nolastnamegiven replied, "Huh? Oh, yeah. I dunno. It was kinda pretty, though. Nice colors'n'stuff. Hey, you got any chocolate on you?"

Local attraction Cool Beans, owned by Simpson/Lynch Studios, is located approximately one mile away from the studio, at 330 Main Street, also in Pleasantview, and suffered no damage from the fire. Neither did Mr. Foxster's home, being several miles away.

Damage to the studio was extensive, and is estimated at being a lot of money.

Local radio station WPLJ-AM was beginning to organize a fund drive, but after being reminded that Mr. Simpson and Mr. Foxster are both multi-millionaires, they changed it to a fund drive to send Pleasantview's only homeless man and resident wino, Gabby Pleasant III, out of town.

* * * * *

From the Next-to-the-Last Page of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet, One Day Later:

Correction: The Pleasantview Poop Sheet staff would like to list a few minor corrections to yesterday's front page headline article. The Simpson/Lynch Studios receptionist is not named Carol Lastnamenotgiven. Her name is Carla; her last name was not given. Mr. Skip Simpson's former fiancée, Gretchen Von Grüber, was misidentified as Gretchen Van Grüber. Mr. Simpson's partner, whose name was unfortunately given as David Foxster, is apparently named David M. Lynch. Mr. Luke Tian's name was incorrectly listed as Luke T. Ahn, like actor Philip Ahn in the enjoyable "Kung Fu" television series. The Kewl Beanz! restaurant, nightclub, and coffeehouse was inadvertently misspelled as Cool Beans. Mr. Lynch's former girlfriend, Tara King, manager of Kewl Beanz!, evidently was available for comment, as was Kewl Beanz! assistant manager, Bella Vergara, but we didn't think of calling either of them. Other than these small points, the Pleasantview Poop Sheet stands by the integrity of its original article.

The Foxster's Fone... errr.. Phone Call ~ A Teaser for PLEASANTVIEW, Season Two!

2010-08-30T01:10:00.004-04:00

PLEASANTVIEW is returning soon!!!

David M. Lynch (a/k/a The Silver Fox) here, fellow babies! And yes, that's right: Season Two of Pleasantview is coming soon!

I had what I hoped was a pretty good post already written for this entry, when I got a polite but relatively short email from Skip Simpson saying, "While Sandy and I are away from the blog world, feel free to write ANYTHING YOU WANT on the Simpson/Lynch Studios blog. Anything, EXCEPT... Please don't write ANY dialog for the Skipster himself. I don't want you to screw up the character. No offense."

No dialog for the Skipster? Terrific. Ter-freakin'-rific! This resulted in a rather hasty edit. Hope you like it anyway.

Thanks for your time.

* * * * *

Scene One: The living room of the Foxster's home in Pleasantview, Alabama, known locally as "The Old Fenneman Estate." It is early in the afternoon. The Foxster is speaking on the telephone.

Foxster: Skipster! I've been trying to call you for two or three days! (laughing) Why do you even bother having a cell phone, if you're not going to answer it? (pauses while Skipster speaks) Have you been to the studio at all lately? (pauses while Skipster speaks) Neither have I, pretty much, and I haven't been to Kewl Beanz! since Tara and I split. (pauses while Skipster speaks) Well, she hasn't quit. Why the hell should she? She's still as competent as ever. (pauses while Skipster speaks) I've had a few strained phone conversations with her, and I still sign her paychecks, and Bella's, and everybody else's... but that's about it. (pauses while Skipster speaks) And just for the record... according to Carla, although we both know how reliable she can be... Gretchen hasn't called, or shown up. (brief pause while Skipster speaks) I know you didn't ask. I'm telling you anyway. (brief pause while Skipster speaks) Same to you, fella! (pause) Anyway, it's "safe" for you to come back, evidently. (brief pause while Skipster speaks) Like I said: Same to you, fella! (pauses while Skipster speaks) Me? Believe it or not, I just got home a few days ago. I was in Louisville, Kentucky! And get this... I just bought a racehorse! (pauses while Skipster speaks) You don't? Why? What the hell's wrong with horses? (pauses while Skipster speaks) Well, they say you're supposed to get right back on, when that happens. (long pause while Skipster speaks) Luke's doing okay. In fact, there's some stuff going on with him that ought to interest you... but I'll save it for now. And Vickie's been doing a great job coordinating the building of the new studio and office complex. (long pause while Skipster speaks) Yup, I agree. And it's time we officially made her Director of Operations. That'll give her access to the SnL bank account, so she can handle all the payments to the staff, and the construction workers, and-- What? (pauses while Skipster speaks) I told you. I bought a racehorse. (The Foxster pauses while Skipster speaks, then laughs.) Damned if I know! After taking care of the business deal, I got drunk. Realllly drunk. I don't remember anything I did in Louisville until the last day I crawled out of bed with a killer hangover and drove home! (pause) So... when are you coming back? (pauses while Skipster speaks) Well, can you at least tell me where you are? (pauses while Skipster speaks) Fine. Be that way... and don't think I can't hear that girlish giggling in the background, you ol' dog! (laughs) Actually, I'm gonna get a few more days' worth of r&r before I go back, too! (brief pause while Skipster speaks) Yeah, you too, old buddy. (The Foxster disconnects.)

* * * * *

Scene Two: The Foxster's bedroom in The Old Fenneman Estate. It is late evening. The phone rings and the Foxster answers it.

Foxster: Hello? Who is-- Barry? Barry Cabana?!? Holy... !!! I haven't seen you since-- (pauses while Barry speaks) What are you talking about? You were in Louisville? (The Foxster pauses again while Barry speaks at length, then responds in a very low voice.) And the Skipster did what, again?

The Foxster listens patiently while Barry speaks. Then, after the Foxster and Barry exchange a few pleasantries about the recent resurgence in Barry's career, the call ends.

The Foxster calls the Skipster's number.

There is no answer.

* * * * *

Coming Soon: Season Two of Pleasantview begins for real!!!

Spy Guys Sweeps Awards!

2010-08-15T21:45:00.000-04:00

Secret Agent Award designed by Sandra Herbert

FROM: Simpson/Lynch Studios

SUBJECT: Spy Guys Sweeps Awards!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Pleasantview, AL - It was announced earlier today that "Spy Guys," an original made-for-Blogger series, has swept the prestigious "Secret Agent Awards" in multiple categories, which means "more than one." The awards, known in the trade as "Bondies," are considered to be the most prestigious awards in the business.

When the series' creator, Skip Simpson, was notified after the governing panel's decision, all he could say was, "Wow! I'm humbled and thankful. After all, this is a very prestigious award. I'm gonna wake up Sandy and tell her." He was in fact referring to the series co-writer and paramour of Mr. Simpson, Ms. Sandra Herbert, who was in fact sound asleep and making funny noises at the time.

Mr. David M. Lynch, the Executive Producer of the acclaimed series, could not be reached for comment.

The "Bondie" was awarded in the following categories:

Best Title Sequence Animation

Best Use Of Jerry Goldsmith Music Originally Written For Obscure 60's Television Series

Best Actor - The Foxster

Best Supporting Actress - Unnamed Receptionist With Nose Ring in Act IV.

A fan of the blog known only as "Sharp-Eyed Reader," when reached for comment, said "This is great! Those Bondies are really prestigious awards! But I'm hoping that when Spy Guys returns, it'll send our intrepid agents into outer space! If not... so sad..."

For those who might have missed it, here is the title sequence again.

Act IX "Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-08-07T12:45:00.013-04:00

Announcer: Spy Guys will continue after a word from our sponsor...

Scene: GLOBE outpost. Pleasantview, Alabama. The morning after the day before. Or something. Our intrepid agents are assembled in the conference area, and enjoying the forty-seven cases of expensive champagne... compliments of GLOBE HQ.

We eavedrop on the Skipster and Buffy.

Skipster: Buffy, I really would like to see you again.

Buffy: Likewise. But...

Skipster: But?

Buffy: (sighs) Look. You realize as well as I do that in your position, if you were seen with me, the tabloids would want to know, "Who's that girl on the Skipster's arm?" at such-and-such movie premiere. They could dig, and dig, and ultimately blow my cover... not to mention GLOBE's.

Skipster: You really are wise beyond your years...

Buffy: Skip. My career comes first. I'm sure you can understand that.

Skipster: So... if we do see each other, we're going to have to be realllly sneaky.

Buffy: Hey. We're spies! That part should come easy!

Skip: Sounds like pizza and movie nights at my place.

Buffy: I'd like that.

They smile at each other. We eavesdrop on Slate, Kittridge and Mr. Winter.

Slate: Let me get this straight. You saved Professor Roy Hinkley's life? He's an idol to me! He was like Zefram Cochrane to my Geordi La Forge!

Kittridge: Who?

Slate: Star Trek reference.

Kittridge: Never watched it...

Winter: I worked with Roy back in the old days. He was quite the genius in coming up with new and unusual hardware. He was a good friend. I'm sorry I missed out on seeing him again.

We eavesdrop on Glory and the Skipster.

Glory: So, how much does your drunken friend remember about all this?

Skipster: The Foxster? I'm afraid he was too drunk to remember anything... not that he was in any shape to comprehend it anyway. Looks like GLOBE's secrets are safe.

Glory: Did you ever find out why he happened to be in Louisville?

Skipster: (shrugs) All he would say was, "I needed to see a man about a horse."

Mr. Winter clinks his glass.

Winter: Attention, everyone. Miss Buffy Pleasant would like to make an announcement.

Buffy: Hey, y'all. In honor of the man who not only helped save the world, but also captured Bruno Drake in the process, I stayed up all night to make this cake. The inscription reads, "To A Great Guy." This is for Agent Kitt Kittridge!

Glory: Never knew you had it in ya, Sparky!

Kittridge: (matter-of-factly) You never asked.

Buffy takes the cover off the cake. All that's left are crumbs.

Winter: Oh, dear! That cake was for him?

Later, as Glory pulls Mr. Winter aside...

Glory: Mr. Winter... I have a confession to make...

Winter: You want to tell me that all this time, you were also assigned to keep tabs on our little operation and report to the powers-that-be?

Glory: (astonished) Yes! How did you...?

Winter: Standard operating procedure within the organization. Don't forget, I've been around a long time.

Glory: Then you should know that because of your quick thinking, you not only helped save what could have been a deadly situation, but you also protected GLOBE's cover in the process. And that's what I wrote in my report. (smiling) And thus, the champagne delivery.

Winter: I learned a long time ago that people will believe whatever you want them to believe. Life itself can be an illusion. My nephew is an amateur magician. He knows about things like that.

Glory: Is your nephew in Great Britain, or does he live here, as you do?

Winter: Oh, he's right here in the states. As a matter of fact... (indicating Kittridge) he's right over there.

Glory looks astonished.

Glory: (dumbfounded) Kitt Kittridge... is your NEPHEW???

Winter: I figured it was time to get him out of jail, and put him to use where his talents would be utilized for the common good. (pause) Now, let's see how good you are at keeping that secret between us, shall we?

Mr. Winter hoists his glass of champagne.

Winter: (loudly) To a great staff! May all our futures be bright!

Kittridge: And "God bless us, every one!"

There is a pause as everyone looks at Kittridge. Then, for the very first time, everyone laughs at his wisecrack.

THE END

Act VIII "Cheese 'N Onions" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-08-02T19:25:00.004-04:00

Announcer: "Spy Guys" will begin after this commercial message.

Scene One: Tuesday morning. 11:45 AM. The Anthony Michael Hall, an enormous auditorium in Louisville, Kentucky, which will serve as the venue to Cheese 'n Onions, the world-famous tribute band to The Rutles, at high noon. Hundreds of television cameras are there to record the images of thousands of gathered dignitaries, international politicians, and leaders from the arts and sciences. What this assembled throng does not know however, is that in a few minutes, they will be witnesses to a very strange scene. We find our intrepid GLOBE agents, Mr. Winter, Glory Becker, John Slate, The Skipster and Buffy Pleasant, assembled for a final briefing.

Mr. Winter: Does everyone have their earpieces in their ears? (Everyone nods in the affirmative.) Good. Does everyone have their microphones either up their sleeves or pinned onto their gowns? (Everyone nods in the affirmative.) Good. And is everyone packing an automatic weapon? (Everyone nods in the affirmative.) Good. Let's help make this a memorable concert. (Checks his watch.) We have fifteen minutes. I'm going over to the punchbowl. (Mr. Winter wanders off.)

Buffy brushes her hand against the Skipster's.

Buffy: I... I just want you to know that whatever happens, I'll always treasure last night. It was the most incredible experience of my life. (Buffy kisses the Skipster on the cheek, and wanders off with Glory. The Skipster walks over to Slate.)

Skipster: Is the the tracking device for the key working okay?

Slate: Yep. No problems. Looks like the key is somewhere backstage. Y'know, I was thinking that... (Their conversation is interrupted by hearing the voices of Buffy and Glory through their earpieces.)

Glory's Voice: So, how was it, girlfriend?

Buffy's Voice: It was fantastic! Skipster is a wonderful lover, who really knows what a woman wants!

Glory's Voice: Yum! Details! I want details!

Buffy's Voice: Well, he took me in his room and we started kissing. Really softly at first, and then we started getting really hot 'n heavy, y'know? (Slate looks up at the Skipster who is standing in horror. Buffy continues talking.) Before you know it, we were totally naked and laying on the bed and he was running his hand up my thigh. I thought I was gonna faint, I was so excited! So... I reached down and started touching him, y'know? That seemed to drive him really crazy, because he was moaning loudly. (Slate manages a small shrug of his shoulders, and attempts a feeble smile. The Skipster is turning white. They hear Glory's voice pipe in.)

Glory's Voice: Did he say anything?

Buffy's Voice: Oh yeah! He started talking dirty about what he was gonna do to me. I gotta tell ya, that was really turning me on! (Skipster buries his face in his palm.)

Glory's Voice: Did you tell him about...?

Buffy's Voice: Not yet. I think he might've acted differently if he knew it was my first time!

Slate looks at the Skipster. A crash is heard from the next room as a glass falls to the floor and breaks. A few seconds later, a visibly-shaken Mr. Winter appears in an archway with an open-mouthed look of shock. The Skipster wheels around.

Skipster: (shouting) Buffy!!! SHUT UP!!!

The assembled crowd, having absolutely no idea as to what caused his outburst, falls silent as they all stare at the Skipster. Without moving, his eyes dart around the room as he catches everyone's gaze. He laughs sheepishly.

Skipster: Heh, heh...

* * * * *

Scene Two: Tuesday morning. 11:50 AM. A black Borgatti sportscar races through the streets of Louisville towards the Anthony Michael Hall. Its two visible occupants are GLOBE agent Kitt Kittridge, who is driving, and the Skipster's writing & business partner the Foxster, who is now very, very drunk, slumped in the passenger seat, and singing at the top of his lungs. Stashed in the trunk is an unconscious Bruno Drake.

Foxster (singing): Farewell an' adooooo, ye fair Spanish ladiezzz... farewell an' adooooo, ye ladiezzz o'Spainnn... (The Foxster's head rolls to the left as he stops singing and drunkenly stares at Kittridge for a moment.) Y'know sumpin', Kittleridge? Yer a reeel somnabitch to steal my car. Y'know that? (hiccups) But cha wanna know sumpin' elsss? (Foxster weakly pokes Kittridge in the right arm.) Yer also one helluva guy to give me a ride innit! (Foxster laughs loudly and stares out the window.) I dunno whether ta kiss ya or kick yer ass!

Kittridge: (evenly) Well... don't try either. (pause) Just be glad I recognized you from all those magazine covers you did with the Skipster. Otherwise, I would have run you over.

Foxster: He'zzz my pal, y'know... (pause) The ollll' Skisster! My pal! My buddy! (pause) My pal! (pause) Whadda helluva guy. (His head rolls back towards Kittridge.) And you sed he's right here in town? Wait'll he sees me! He's gonna shit! (Foxster laughs loudly.)

Kittridge: (under his breath) No doubt...

Foxster: Hey, Kittlerdidge... We got time to stop at McDonald's for a Filet-O-Fish?

Kittridge: Well, we really shouldn't... but I'm dying for a Big Mac myself... for some reason.

The Borgatti sportscar races on...

* * * * *

Scene Three: Tuesday morning, 11:58 AM. Inside the Anthony Michael Hall auditorium, where the assembled guests are being seated. From his vantage point offstage, the Skipster is observing the last-minute activity behind the closed curtains, as roadies finalize the sound checks and prepare the instruments. He watches as a bulletproof plexiglass podium rises silently and majestically from the stage floor, awaiting the master of ceremonies. He can hear the director issuing orders for preliminary camera positions through the P.A. system, and hear the floor manager giving the countdown until airtime. He hears Slate's voice through his earpiece.

Slate's Voice: Hey, Skipster. See anything unusual?

Skipster: (talking into the sleeve mike) Negative. Nothing yet. No sign of the band.

Floor Manager's Voice: One minute until airtime. Places, everybody.

The Skipster sees a production assistant leading the master of ceremonies towards the podium.

Slate's Voice: Copy that. Things are cool from where I'm standing.

Skipster: Roger that. (He hears Buffy's soft voice through the earpiece.)

Buffy's Voice: Skip? (pause) Are you mad at me?

Skipster: (sighs) Can we talk about this later, Buffy? (Skipster suddenly sees the master of ceremonies clearly.) Son of a bitch!

Buffy's Voice: Excuse me??? (pause) You are mad at me! I knew it!

Floor Manager's Voice: Thirty seconds.

The Skipster puts Buffy on "ignore" as he watches a man wearing an all-white tuxedo take his place behind the podium.

Skipster: Ohmigod!! It's Barry! The master of ceremonies is BARRY CABANA!!!

Floor Director's Voice: Ten seconds... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... On the air!

From the P.A. system, the hall is flooded with pre-recorded music as an unseen announcer booms out his lines.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Live from Louisville, Kentucky, and seen by every single person in the world! A history-making event! The most famous tribute band of a tribute band of a parody band! It's Cheeeeeese 'n Onionsssss!

The crowd goes wild. The Skipster looks around as the stage lights start coming up.

Announcer: And now... Your master of cermonies for this stupendous occasion... Mister Broadway himself! Barrrrry Cabannnnna!!!

The curtains slowly open and Barry Cabana is framed by a bright white spotlight. The audience roars its approval. Barry grins and waves to the adoring crowd. The Skipster looks up. He sees a large, flat rectangular object suspended over the stage. Barry begins his speech.

Barry: Well! Good afternoon everyone, and greetings to every person in the world from Lexington, Kentucky! (cheers from all, except a few Louisville residents) Y'know... I've really gotta say how humbled I am that I was even asked to emcee this event. Up until now, I just figured that everyone thought I was dead! (laughter and scattered applause) But, I've been given a great honor. Right now, I hold the key that will activate a special clock behind me. This clock will count the hours that this fantastic group, Cheese 'n Onions will be performing onstage, as they have vowed to go into the Guinness Book Of World Records as giving the longest concert in the history of the world!

The large object is slowly lowered from the ceiling.

Skipster: Ohmigod! It's the Doomsday Clock!

Indeed, it is the authentic clock that has been freshly repainted and made to look very festive, with hearts and flowers! Barry Cabana smiles, turns, and slowly walks towards it.

Skipster: (into his sleeve) It's Barry Cabana! He's unwittingly about to destroy the world!

The Skipster darts from behind a curtain and races toward Barry. He sees Glory, Slate and Buffy all converging toward the stage. Barry, who is grinning like an idiot, is just seconds away from putting the key into the deadly device! The Skipster unholsters his weapon and aims it at "Mister Broadway."

Skipster: (softly) Sorry, Barry...

He is about to squeeze the trigger when he hears the unmistakable sound of Mr. Winter's soothing voice emanating from the P.A. system.

Mr. Winter's Voice: Barry. (pause) Barry. (Barry halts, and looks up, mystified.)

Barry: Who is that?

Mr. Winter's Voice: It's the Lord, Barry.

The audience, who assumes that this is a scheduled part of the show, begins to laugh. Barry, who now thinks this is a last-minute addition to the show, smirks and begins to play along.

Barry: (chuckling) And what is it I may do for you, oh Lord?

Mr. Winter's Voice: I command thee to bring out your special guest!

Suddenly the crowd goes wild as the Foxster comes staggering out onstage, totally drunk.

Skipster: Omigod! The Foxster!!!

Foxster: (looking around) I wanna see th'speshull guest...

Barry: (obviously surprised and pleased) Well... I'll be! It's my old pal! Ladies and gentlemen... it's the Foxster!

The Foxster staggers up to the podium and leans on it for much-needed support.

Foxster: Extinguished memmersss of the academy, I accept thiz award for... (sees the Skipster) Well... holy SHIT!!! I think I see an old buddy over there! Barry! Lez give a nice warm welcome to th' Skisster!

As the spotlight swings over, the Skipster hurridly holsters his weapon, smiles and waves to the audience. Barry motions for the Skipster to approach the podium, and the Skipster slowly begins walking toward it. Offstage, Glory, Slate, and Buffy are trying to comprehend this weird spectacle, when Kittridge runs up to Slate, out of breath.

Kittridge: John! Thank gawd I found you! Do you have the tracking device?

Slate: Of course I do! It's right here! (Slate produces the device from his jacket pocket.)

Kittridge: Take it apart!

Slate: What?

Kittridge: Just take it apart, damnit! There's no time to explain!

The sudden roar of the crowd causes them to look up, as the four members of Cheese 'n Onions walk angrily onto the stage. Barry, who believes this is still part of the act, leans into the microphone.

Barry: Ladies and gentlemen! Let's have a big welcome to Mike Rotch as Dirk McQuickly, Jacques Strapp as Ron Nasty, Hugh Jass as Stig O'Hara, and Stu Pedasso as Barry Wom! Cheese 'n Onions!!!

The crowd roars. Mike Rotch angrily grabs the key out of Barry's hand. Jacques Strapp grabs the microphone, and glares at Mike Rotch.

Strapp: (mockingly) "Have Barry do it!" Oh, great plan there, Mike! We're gonna do this like we'd orginally planned it, and to hell with any of ENEMA's ransom demands! (to the audience and television cameras) We really hate you all. (The crowd, thinking he's doing his "Ron Nasty" impression, cheers.)

Slate: (to Kittridge) Okay! It's apart! Now what?

Kittridge: The guy who helped invent this thing told me something...

Mike Rotch grabs the microphone from Jacques Strapp.

Rotch: He's right! We hate you all! (The crowd cheers. Hugh Jass grabs the microphone from Mike Rotch.)

Jass: I really don't know why you're cheering, as we're all about to die! (The crowd cheers. Stu Pedasso grabs the microphone.)

Kittridge: (to Slate) The key has a self-destruct function!

Pedasso: Listen! I'm Stu Pedasso! You can believe me! (The crowd cheers.)

Kittridge: (to Slate) And that little red button on the circuit board is the trigger!

The band members look at each other, then suddenly run toward the clock with Mike Rotch brandishing the key. The Skipster begins to draw his gun, but is stopped short by Mr. Winter's booming voice.

Mr. Winter's Voice: Let them go, Skipster! (pause) And by the way... duck and cover!

The Skipster is momentarily confused, but quickly regains his sense of discipline, honed by years of military -- and GLOBE -- training. He grabs both Barry and the Foxster by their collars, and with one swift kick, he knocks the bulletproof plexiglass podium over. He manages to wrestle every one of them to safety behind it.

Kittridge: In short... THE KEY IS A BOMB!!!

Cheese 'n Onions defiantly stand in front of the Doomsday Clock and raise their middle fingers to the cheering crowd. Mike Rotch begins to insert the key that will obliterate all life on earth.

Slate: A bomb? (brief pause) Oh. (brief pause) Cool. (Slate presses the red button.)

In the blink of an eye, Cheese 'n Onions and the Doomsday Clock are enveloped in a blinding white light and a loud explosion that rocks the stage. When the smoke clears, the only thing remaining is a large hole in the stage floor. The audience cheers.

Skipster: (to Barry) Wow! That was quick!

A lightbulb goes off over Barry's head. (Well, figuratively.) He grabs a microphone.

Barry: Ladies and gentlemen! We have all just witnessed an historical event! I must've read that script wrong, because what I meant to say earlier was that this will go in the Guinness Book Of World Records as the shortest concert in the history of the world! Thank you, and have a great day!

The music swells through the P.A. system, and after more wild applause, the audience dutifully begins to file out.

The Skipster looks over at the Foxster, who has passed out in a drunken stupor.

TO BE CONCLUDED...

Act VII "The Prisoner" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-07-30T20:00:00.001-04:00

Announcer: "Spy Guys" will begin after this commercial message.

Scene One: Onboard the private Boeing 777-232ER that is known affectionately as "SnL One." It is early Tuesday morning. The Skipster and Buffy Pleasant are arriving in the conference area, after a night of passionate lovemaking, where the rest of the GLOBE agents have gathered.

Buffy: (whispers to Skipster) I love the scent of "Hai Karate" on a man in the morning...

Seated at the conference table are Mister Winter, Glory Becker, and John Slate. Mister Winter looks up, and acknowledges their arrival.

Mr. Winter: Ah! Miss Pleasant and Skipster. I trust you both had a very restful night. (Glory and Slate suppress knowing smiles. Buffy winks and gives a "thumbs up" sign. The Skipster glances at her.) Today is the day we save the world. Any questions?

Skipster: Um, any sign of Kittridge?

Slate: I've tracked his combination i.d. badge and locator chip to what appears to be an adandoned warehouse in a dangerous part of town. Do you want me to go and get him?

Mr. Winter: Negative, Agent Slate. Either one of two things could have happened. He's either drunk and passed out, or he's being held against his will by enemy forces in order to coax us into a trap.

Buffy: But, what if he is being held prisoner and they kill him?

Mr. Winter: Miss Pleasant, he knows the risks involved. I am not going to be sending my staff into an obvious death trap. Our job is to recover the key to the Doomsday Clock from "Cheese 'n Onions."

Glory: (Interjecting) Which is The Rutles' tribute band, that will performing in a live telecast at noon that will be seen by every man, woman and child on the planet.

Mr. Winter: (Nodding) Exactly, Agent Becker. I'm afraid Agent Kittridge will have to rely upon his wits and intelligence.

Slate: (Slowly shaking his head) Then he's a dead man for sure.

Scene Two: The basement of an abandoned warehouse in a dangerous part of town. Kitt Kittridge is seated on a hard wooden chair with his wrists handcuffed behind him, and slowly regaining consciousness from being shot with a tranquilizer dart. Standing around him are Banjo, T-Bone and Cletus, otherwise known as "The Flying Risotto Brothers."

Banjo: Looks like Sleeping Beauty is coming to.

T-Bone: How did a guy like him ever make it into GLOBE?

Cletus: Yeah. He's worthless. (Giggles)

Kittridge: (Murmuring) Speak for yourself, asshole. (Cletus angrily raises his arm to strike Kittridge, but is held back by Banjo.)

Banjo: Not yet, you idiot. We've gotta wait for the boss to arrive in an hour.

Kittridge: (Peering up at Banjo) Hmph... I kinda figured you had to have someone a little higher up in the food chain. So, what's the plan? Hold the world ransom? Demand control of some country? Scare nuns and orphans?

Cletus: (His left leg begins trembling) Ha! You have no idea!

T-Bone: (To Banjo) Oh no! He's getting that way again!

Banjo: (Sighs) Once he gets that way, there's just no stopping him.

Cletus: I bet you wanna know what the plan is, huh?

Kittridge: Frankly. I couldn't care less.

Cletus: (Angrily) Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway!

(Banjo and T-Bone simultaneously do "facepalms.")

Cletus: We got the professor locked up in a cell back there, and...

Cletus is suddenly cut short as his eyes suddely bulge out and a river of bright red blood begins flowing out of his mouth. He piches forward and hits the hard stone floor. Kittridge looks down and sees a smoking bullethole in the back of Cletus's head. The remaining Risotto brothers turn and see two silhouetted male figures who have quietly entered the basement.

T-Bone: Boss! We weren't expecting...

T-Bone is suddenly cut short, as another bullet from a silenced pistol burrows into his forehead, killing him instantly. Banjo watches his brother fall backwards onto the hard stone floor. Banjo furtively looks at the two silhouetted figures who are slowly walking into the room.

Banjo: Boss! Hey!!! We captured this GLOBE agent! He's gonna lead the rest of them into our trap!

The advancing figures have now come into the light, and Kittridge can make out the faces of a tall bearded man wearing an expensive suit, and his plump companion wearing a t-shirt and shorts who is holding the gun. The bearded man speaks slowly and softly, with definite traces of menace.

Bearded Man: Oh yes. The trap. (He comes to a halt a few feet from Banjo.) The trap that has worked so well, that this man's comrades have decided to ignore it completely.

Kittridge: (Doing a double-take) They've what??? How dare they???

Bearded Man: It appears that your last minute deviation in the plan has been for nothing. Mister Winter may appear to be a doddering old idiot, but at one time he was the best field agent GLOBE ever had, and can smell an obvious trap a mile away. Sadly, he's become but a shell of his former self, where he has resorted to hiring uncouth riffraff such as this. (Indicating Kittridge)

Kittridge: Hey!!!

Banjo: (Sweating profusely) Now... wait a minute here! Didn't we get that professor for ya? And didn't we make that fake Doomsday Clock that got delivered to GLOBE?

Bearded Man: On which you misspelled the name...

Banjo: Well... we DID say we were sorry for that...

Bearded Man: Oh yes. The clock that was delivered to GLOBE. The fake Doomsday Clock... the clock that also happened to get delivered with THE REAL KEY!

Banjo: It was a mixup I tell ya! BOTH keys looked alike! (Pause) And you got the real one back, dincha?

Bearded Man: Oh yes. We got it back. And we also attracted the attention of GLOBE in what should have been a very simple plan.

Kittridge: (Who has been listening to all of this, shakes his head and chuckles to himself) Wow! What a sorry bunch of shitheads.

Bearded Man: (Looks at Kittridge with a sly smile) Yes. (Pause) They were...

The heavy-set man pulls the trigger, and one silenced shot later, Banjo joins his dearly departed brothers in the "undiscovered country from which no traveler returns." The bearded man and the heavy set man slowly approach Kittridge.

Kittridge: Hey... nice work, guys! Thanks for saving me the trouble! (Cheerfully) Now, why don't you let me out of these cuffs so I can get back to some serious drinking?

Bearded Man: I have a better idea. Why don't you tell us what you know?

Kittridge: I have an even better idea. Why don't you tell me who you are???

Bearded Man: (Smiles) Of course. My associate is Arthur Prunesqualor. I am Bruno Drake.

Kittridge: You're Bruno Drake??? I've heard about you. You're the number two man in ENEMA! You really should try harder... (Pause) Say, didn't you have your mountaintop retreat blown out from under your ass a few months ago?

Drake: (Grimaces) It was a minor inconvenience. (Shudders and shakes his head) But, I thought I knew all of the active GLOBE agents. I really don't know who you are.

Kittridge: Really? I'm gonna have to fire my P.R. man! The name's Kittridge. Kitt Kittridge. I'd shake your hand, but I'm kinda tied up at the moment. (Pause) So you really don't know anything about me, huh? Well then, let me enlighten you, Sparky. (Prunesquallor aims his pistol at Kittridge's head.) Hey! Easy big guy! We're all friends here, right? Just gettin' to know each other, right? Oh, and by the way big guy... you kinda smell like pork grease. Maybe you should use a little more "Hai Karate."

Drake: You are really starting to bore me...

Kittridge: Really? Hmmm... okay let me tell you a little about myself. And stop me if you've heard this one before...

Drake rolls his eyes.

Drake: Mister Kittridge, if you think you're just buying time awaiting a rescue...

Kittridge: Nahh. You already said the cavalry's not coming, didn'tcha? Anyhoo... I used to be a thief. Not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill thief mind you... but a real arteeste! I was a notorious cat burglar in Europe. In France I was known as "Renard." That's French for "fox," doncha know? There wasn't a lock or a vault that could keep me out. And, I have a few hobbies here and there. I love to do magic! Do y'all like magic?

Drake: (Drake shakes his head) Are you planning to make yourself disappear?

Kittridge: Nah! Nothing like that! But I do have this really great trick. It's called "handcuff escape." (From behind his back Kittridge neatly produces an unlocked set of handcuffs.) See?

Drake's eyes suddely grow huge. With newly-freed hands, Kittridge quickly jumps up and snatches the gun from Arthur Prunesqualor. Deftly flipping it in the air, he grabs the handle and coldly shoots his large adversary at point-blank range. Arthur Prunesqualor falls dead onto the hard stone floor.

Kittridge: Sorry, Porky. You were just small potatoes. (Looks at Drake) But you on the other hand... (Aiming carefully, he fires a round into Drake's left kneecap. Drake crumples in pain.) Aw, gee. Does it hurt? Let me take your pain away. (Kittridge picks up a tranquilizer gun from a nearby table, and shoots Drake in the neck. Drake is immediately knocked unconscious. Kittridge takes the handcuffs and binds Drake's wrists behind his back, removing Drake's expensive Rolex and placing it on his own wrist.) Okay... now let me see you get out of them! (looking around) Okay... let's go find that "professor". (Sees a heavy door a few feet away) Okay... let's pick door number one, Monty. (Kittridge finds the door locked.) Well now... I suppose I could pick the lock... or... (reaching for key ring hanging next to the door) we could just do it the easy way. (Kittridge enters and finds himself in a small cell. In the corner is a very weak old man who sees Kittridge. This is "The Professor.")

Professor: W...who are you?

Kittridge: The Lone Ranger. Who are you?

Professor: I'm the man that helped develop the Doomsday Clock. My name is Roy Hinkley.

Kittridge: Well, the good news is... your time is up and you're free to go. I for one, have a concert to attend. I'd love to have you tag along, but as I only have one backstage pass...

Kittridge turns to leave, but the Professor stops him.

Professor: Wait! If you're going to the Doomsday Clock, there's something you should know. Listen... (Kittridge draws closer.)

Scene Three: A few minutes later. Kittridge is sitting behind the wheel of the stolen black Borgatti sportscar. He expertly hotwires the ignition, and goes speeding towards the site of the "Cheese 'n Onions" concert. As he comes to a red light, a bearded man wearing dark glasses, and who is obviously very drunk suddenly staggers out in the middle of the road, and pounds angrily on the hood of the car.

Man: You sonofabitch! Give me my car back!!!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Oops-and-a-Half!

2010-07-29T00:30:00.004-04:00

(Silver Fox here, fellow babies!)

I almost sh-- errr... freaked when I found the following on a friend's blogroll:

Simpson/Lynch Studios: Pleasantview

Unsubscribers Wanted - If you see your picture on the sidebar, please remove this blog from your "blogs I follow" list. There is nothing to see here. Move along please.

I didn't post that, so that meant that my writing partner, Skip Simpson, did. Telling our readers right before the finale of Spy Guys to "go away," as it were? What the hell was he thinking? I wondered.

I checked the Simpson/Lynch Studios blog itself -- that's the one you're reading now, fellow babies, so forgive me for not linking to it -- and found that the post had already been deleted. I decided to call my ol' buddy Skip in Alabama, to calmly & rationally discuss the matter. The following is our conversation:

Skip: Hey, David! Great to hear from you! (pause) Why'd you call collect?

David (shouting): Never mind that! Why the [expletive deleted] did you just tell our SnL followers to stop reading our blog?

Skip (chuckling): Oh, that? Heh. I mistakenly posted it to the wrong blog. It was meant for Skip's Stuff.

David (shouting): Don't lie to me, you lying liar! You deleted that blog!

Skip (calmly): No, little buddy, I just "closed" it. And I wrote that post because I want to "clean house," as it were, and start my blog fresh in a few months.

David (shouting): Anyone who has a blogroll will see that [expletive deleted] post there, whether you deleted it from SnL or not! And all of our followers will see it in their [expletive deleted] new posts list, too, you stupid [expletive deleted], and...

Skip (calmly): Really? (pause) Oops.

David (shouting): "Oops?" "Oops?!?" [Expletive deleted] OOPS?!?

Skip (calmly): Gee, if you're really upset, ol' chum, why not write a short post telling them it was meant for Skip's Stuff instead. They'll understand.

David (screaming): IF I'm upset?!? And stop saying it was meant for Skip's Stuff! You deleted that, you dumb [multiple expletives deleted]!

Skip (calmly, to the point of being comatose): I told you, I didn't delete it, I just closed it. Go there and see for yourself.

David (muttering): Go there yourself! Heh. Go [expletive deleted] yourself. (pause) See if I won't. (checking Skip's Stuff's URL) Uhhh...

Skip (half asleep): Still there, ol' pal?

David (quietly): Umm... 'Bye, there, Skip. (David hangs up.)

* * * * *

So... If anyone saw that post, or sees it in their "Followers" listings... It was a mistake. Skip's mistake. Not mine. We both still love our readers. And I'm calm and rational. Really.

At least... I'm much better now.

And HEY! In the event that this post "buried" our last entry, please DO NOT MISS the penultimate chapter of Spy Guys, already posted! (I even changed the date so it'd be at the top of this blog!) So click here, willya?

Thanks for your time.

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part Six

2010-07-11T05:30:00.000-04:00

Here we are with the sixth and final segment of WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW! This time we deal with just one of the Spy Guys cast, an unfortunate relative of hers, and our more minor characters. Some of them will be showing up again, some of them we -- and you, perhaps -- are glad we got rid of, and others have merely been mentioned, and may or may not ever get "fleshed out" more than they have already.

* * * * *

Annabel-Lee Pleasant -- Better known as "Buffy," the only high school nickname she ever formed a liking for -- "Chipmunk Cheeks" and "Wide Glide" were two of the disparaging others -- Miss Pleasant is a member of the family that founded Pleasantview, Alabama. Among her other interests, Buffy is a devoted fan of the writings of Edgar Allan Poe, perhaps influenced by her being named for his poem, Annabel Lee. (Buffy's parents, of course, were the ones who added a hyphen to their daughter's name.) She even joined the misspelled "Edgar Alan Poe Society" during her high school years. (The misspelling was thanks to the society's advisor, Dewey Mellen... who's an idiot.) Sometime after her graduation a few years ago, Buffy underwent a slight make-over which made her much more attractive to the "discriminating eyes" of the small-minded Pleasantview townspeople... as well as the Skipster, as shown in a recent Simpson/Lynch Studios: Spy Guys post! Buffy is currently an agent for the international espionage agency known only as GLOBE, and is stationed in its Pleasantview outpost, although she ostensibly works as a receptionist for its cover operation, Global Telecommunications.

Gabriel Pleasant III -- Gabriel Pleasant is better known as "Gabby," as were his father and grandfather before him. In fact, his grandfather founded the town of Pleasantview, Alabama. He is literally the only homeless person living in Pleasantview. Regrettably, the fact of Gabby's situation invokes only scorn and disgust from most of the native townspeople, as opposed to sympathy, charity, or any other positive reaction. With a mere handful of exceptions, only an occasional "outsider" such as the unlikely Barry Cabana ever shows him any compassion. Gabby is considered an embarrassment to the wealthy & oh-so-proper Pleasant clan itself. The origins of his unfortunate status have yet to be told.

And now, the rest of the entries for those who have been mentioned or otherwise featured in Simpson/Lynch Studios: Pleasantview... except for Buffy Pleasant's fellow GLOBE agents, who will shortly be showcased in the remaining chapters of Spy Guys. Photos for all -- except one, as noted below -- are regrettably, or not-so-regrettably, unavailable.

Angela Mercy -- Angela Mercy is the Managing Editor of Peeps magazine, the leading entertainment gossip magazine in the Western hemisphere. Angela began her career in the 1960s as the author of "goo-goo hippie love poems" before being hired as a writer on the long-running TV soap opera, Ocean Haven. Eventually, she had become the show's Head Writer, which is when she first encountered the young Foxster, who began writing for Ocean Haven under the pseudonym of "David DaSilva." Years later, when Angela had become Peeps' Managing Editor and the Foxster was world-famous as part of the Simpson/Lynch duo, Angela and the Foxster made a friendly, informal agreement that Simpson/Lynch Studios would feed exclusive interviews and the like to Peeps, as long as Peeps never published unfounded rumors about SnL or its staff.

Carol Brady -- Attractive, capable Carol Brady -- no, not that Carol Brady! -- holds the office of Town Clerk in Pleasantview. She has her fingers in every proverbial pie in town; some maintain that she is Pleasantview's de facto mayor. Carol was immediately attracted to the Foxster upon their first meeting, at which point he politely informed her that he was dating Tara King.... which, at this writing, is admittedly no longer the case...

Irene Mellen -- Irene is the mother of Dewey Mellen, who runs the Pleasantview Poop Sheet, Pleasantview's only newspaper. She serves as the presumably-unpaid proofreader for the Dewey's Doings social column.

Bruno Drake -- During the Skipster/Foxster feud, the Skipster and Foxster decided to settle their differences publicly, in -- of all things -- a professional wrestling ring. Enter Bruno Drake, who -- among other shady activities -- had founded a wrestling federation known as the WTF (variously defined as either "Wrestle That Feller" or "Wrestle That F***er"). The WTF attempted to bring back the glory days of the 1980s WWF matches by shamelessly stealing the WWF wrestlers' names and modus operandi. The Skipster was forced to perform as "Macho Man" Randy Savage, while the Foxster was decked out as "Hulk" Hogan. Drake scheduled a match between the Skipster and yet another WWF clone, which offended both the Skipster and Foxster, who each made it clear that they intended to end their associations with the WTF regardless of their own grudge match's outcome. Realizing that the loss of his "big draw" duo of Simpson & Lynch would be detrimental to the economic health of the WTF, Drake had his minions kidnap Luke Tian as a blackmail pawn during the fixed match between the Skipster and the aforementioned "clone." Seeing "that Elvis guy" and other WTF thugs gang up on the Skipster, the Foxster intervened, ending the Skipster/Foxster feud. The Skipster soon used his contacts as a former agent of GLOBE to single-handedly rescue Luke, unemotionally dispatching many of those who stood in his way. Bruno Drake remains at large.

Arthur Prunesqualor -- Prunesqualor was the WTF's above-mentioned "WWF clone," who performed for the WTF under the alias of "The Honky Tonk Man." (The real WCW & WWF's "Honky Tonk Man," Roy Wayne Farris, had absolutely nothing to do with the WTF, of course.) Prunesqualor was conveniently located in Alabama, so while the Skipster was rescuing Luke, the Foxster tracked down Prunesqualor and beat the livin' crap out of him for his part in Luke's abduction. (I actually have a photo of Mr. Prunesqualor, but who cares, right?)

Friedrich -- While still a teen in her native Germany, Gretchen Von Grüber married a young man named Friedrich (last name unrevealed). Friedrich was an alcoholic who brutally beat Gretchen on several occasions, even causing a miscarriage when he hurled a pregnant Gretchen down a flight of stairs. Gretchen's Uncle Kris gave Friedrich a taste of his own violent medicine "as a lovely parting gift" before taking Gretchen away from Friedrich... forever?

Ian Cumming -- Cumming is the owner and general manager of Pleasantview's only radio station, WPLJ-AM (specializing in "oldies"), as well as its "sister" station, WPLJ-TV.

Crenshaw Mellen -- Crenshaw Mellen was the father of Dewey Mellen and the founder of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet.

Calvin T. Burnside -- Burnside is the as-yet-unseen mayor of Pleasantview, Alabama.

Chester Minnit -- Minnit is the very-soon-to-be-mentioned Chief of the Pleasantview Volunteer Fire Department.

* * * * *

Whew! Over thirty freakin' characters accumulated in less than a year, and that's
not counting the other four Spy Guys cast members -- Mr. Winter, Kitt Kittridge, John Slate, and Glory Becker -- but it's a bit early to tell you stuff about them which you'll be learning in Spy Guys itself!

Stay tuned for the remaining episodes of Spy Guys...

And as always, thanks for your time.

Act VI "The Flying Risotto Brothers" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-07-08T21:25:00.000-04:00

Announcer: "Spy Guys" will begin after this commercial message.

Scene One: Onboard the private Boeing 777-232ER that is known affectionately as "SnL One." Our intrepid GLOBE agents are sitting in the conference area.

Mr. Winter: I've called you all here so that we can discuss the events so far. Before we begin, would anyone like a nice cold Carling Black Label? Besides me, of course? (Indicating a cooler filled with cans of Carling Black Label beer.)

Kittridge: What, no Tareyton cigarettes?

Glory: I'll take one, thanks.

Slate: Sure. I find that Carling Black Label refreshes my thirst with a nice smooth taste. (Holds up a can and smiles)

Skipster: I'll agree with you on that one, John. I'll take one, also.

Buffy: Oh yes! I'll have one. But one is my limit. (beams) I believe in drinking responsibly.

Kittridge: I believe in drinking irresponsibly. I'll take three.

Mr. Winter: Ahem. So the key that will activate the Doomsday Clock, which has the power to destroy the world, has fallen into the wrong hands. Whereas the hands of the Doomsday Clock can only mirror the time unless activated, the hands now controlling those hands are slimy and dirty. Which reminds me... I forgot to wash my hands. Excuse me. (Mr. Winter disappears into the lavatory. )

Kittridge drains his third beer, crushes the can and tosses it neatly over his shoulder into a judiciously placed recycle bin. He deftly reaches for another beer, pops it open and takes a huge swallow. He lets out a belch, and laughs.

Kittridge (to no one in particular): Wake me when he comes back. Or better yet... don't.

Mr. Winter returns from the lavatory.

Mr. Winter: Yes. So, where was I?

Kittridge: You were saying something about washing your slimy and dirty hands.

Mr. Winter: No... I did that... Oh, yes! Because of a tracking device built into the key, we have been able to track it here to Louisville, Tennessee...

Glory
(interjecting)
: Kentucky.

Mr. Winter: Excuse me?

Glory: Louisville is in Kentucky.

Mr. Winter: When did they move it? (pause) Well... never mind about that now. The little black box that Mr. Slate is holding (Slate holds up "the little black box.") is actually the tracking device, which Mr. Slate has improved upon considerably. (Slate beams.)

Kittridge (to Slate, as he grabs another beer): Any chance of "improving" that thing so it'll track down a few saucy-looking ladies? (Kittridge silently mouths the word "saw-sayyy" to himself and chuckles.)

Mr. Winter: We have discovered that a group of individuals, posing as a tribute band to the internationally known and beloved group, The Rutles, are behind the key caper. This band, aptly named "Cheese 'n Onions" will be performing tomorrow at noon, in a televised concert which will be seen by every living person in the world.

Kittridge: Every living person? (Mr. Winter nods.) That certainly is convenient, plot-wise...

Mr. Winter: This will also give us the opportunity to nab them. (pause) Is there anything I've forgotten?

Kittridge: Only that everyone here already knew virtually all of that...

Mr. Winter (glaring at Kittridge): Agent Kittridge... I suggest you refrain from drinking any more Carling Black Label beer. As a matter of fact, I'm ordering you to stop right now! If you can't add anything worthwhile to this meeting, please feel free to leave this room.

Glory: Plane.

Mr. Winter: Yes it is very plain! Mr. Kittridge is getting shittridge... I mean, shitfaced!

Kittridge: Mr. Winter! I'm surprised at you! (pause) I mean, I thought you British used the word "shite."

Glory (ignoring Kittridge): I meant, we're on a plane, Mr. Winter. Kittridge needs to leave the plane.

Kittridge (to Glory, with a sarcastic bow after he stands): Whatever you wish, oh mighty Ice Maiden!

Kittridge leaves in a huff. (Actually, more like a minute-and-a-huff, since he has trouble finding the exit.)

Glory: Thank God! That bozo gives me a headache. I can't figure out for the life of me what he's doing in GLOBE. Sometimes I think he's really working for the other side!

Mr. Winter: I suggest we get some needed sleep. Tomorrow is a big day. Goodnight all.

The GLOBE agents retreat to their separate sleeping quarters aboard the huge plane. The Skipster makes his way to his suite, when he becomes aware of someone following him. He turns and sees Buffy.

Skipster: Oh, hi, Buffy. Did you need me to show you to your room?

Buffy (smiling): Actually... I'd like to see your room.

Suddenly, Buffy reaches up and kisses the Skipster passionately. The Skipster is taken aback at first, but then surrenders to her hot kisses. He gazes into her face.

Skipster: All right. (The Skipster takes Buffy's arm and they disappear into his private suite. As Buffy hums Madonna's "Like A Virgin," The Skipster locks the door behind them.)

* * * * *

Scene Two: We see Kittridge approximately two hours after he left Mr. Winter's meeting, and the Snl One. He exits one of several Louisville bars which he has visited in the interim. Despite the passage of time -- and no Carling Black Label to be found -- he is still moderately drunk. Upon exiting the bar, he walks into the parking lot instead of back onto the sidewalk, which had been his intention.

Kittridge (talking to himself): Crummy hick bars! Not one of 'em serves Black Label! Maybe I should go back to the plane... (pause) No! No way! First, Mr. Magnanimous Skipster says "Help yourself to the bar, kiddies," and then Old Man Winter decides we all need to get sober and discuss our mission?!? What a crock! They can all go...

Among the numerous nondescript automobiles and SUVs, Kittridge's bloodshot eyes suddenly discern a gleaming black sportscar. He immediately recognizes the model.

Kittridge (softly, almost reverently): Holy shit! A Borgatti! A Borgatti! They only rolled forty-seven of those puppies off the assembly line before the whole factory was flooded and destroyed by spaghetti sauce!

Kittridge approaches the immaculate, highly-polished vehicle and eyes it up and down with admiration before noticing three seedy-looking men -- Banjo, T-Bone, and Cletus -- standing a few feet behind him, reflected in the windows of the Borgatti. He turns to face them, his eyes attempting to focus.

Kittridge: Hey, don't worry, guys! I wasn't going to mess with your car, I was only admiring it! (Kittridge's eyes narrow as he gets a better look at the three men.) Then again, from the looks of you three, it obviously isn't your car!

Banjo: An' it ain't your car, neither!

T-Bone (to Banjo): He just admitted that, Banjo.

Banjo (to T-Bone, while slapping him in the back of the head): Shuddup, willya? (to Kittridge) So... What's the attraction here, pal?

Kittridge: It's a classic! And I used to have one... not that it's any of your business... "pal."

Cletus: You couldn't afford t'buy one o'these on a GLOBE agent's salary!

Kittridge (smirking): I never said I bought one... I said I had one. (long pause) And don't think I'm so drunk that I missed your reference to my being a GLOBE agent.

Banjo (slapping Cletus in the back of the head): You loudmouth!

Kittridge (suddenly acting quite sober): You shouldn't slap your own brothers around like that... Banjo.

Banjo: Huh? You know who I am?

T-Bone: He must know all of us, Banjo! He said "brothers!"

Banjo (slapping T-Bone in the back of the head): Shuddup!!!

Kittridge (nodding): Uh-huh... You're the Flying Risotto Brothers, all right!

Cletus: He does know us! We's famous! He musta seen our stage act!

Kittridge: Yeah, right. As if! Sorry, Cletus -- It is "Cletus," isn't it? -- but I know you three from GLOBE files. Three performing idiots who occasionally hire out to ENEMA, and... (Kittridge pauses, wide-eyed.) Oh, shit. If you three morons are following me here in Louisville, then this Doomsday Clock matter must be bigger than we all thought!

T-Bone : Banjo, he knows ENEMA is behind Mike Rotch and the others!

Kittridge (grinning): Well, I certainly do now...

Banjo (slapping T-Bone in the back of the head): You nitwit! Shuddup!

T-Bone: We gotta kill 'im!

Cletus' left leg begins trembling, and he breaks out into a cold sweat.

Cletus: N-no... W-w-we c-can't k-k-k-kill 'im!

Banjo (looking at Cletus): Aw, crap...

T-Bone (to Cletus): Why not?

Banjo and Cletus: You know why!

T-Bone: Oh, that again! (pause) I'll handle this... (T-Bone produces a pistol bearing a silencer and shoots Kittridge in the chest. Almost immediately, Kittridge drops like a stone.)

Cletus: You knuckle-head! Why'd ya kill 'im?!?

T-Bone: I didn't, dummy! That was a trank dart!

Banjo (hurriedly): Okay, okay, okay, lissen up, you two bozos! We gotta get 'im back t'Mike Rotch and the others, and since we're on foot, just like he was, we're gonna hafta take 'im in this little Brigatti...

T-Bone: Borgatti...

Banjo (slapping T-Bone in the back of the head): Nobody freakin' cares, dimwit!!! Cletus, pry that trunk open, and you two stuff 'im in there while I hot-wire this thing!

* * * * *

Scene Three: The same parking lot, approximately half an hour later. A man exits the bar, walking unsteadily toward the spot where his Borgatti had been parked.

Man: DUDE!!! WHERE'S MY CAR?!?

TO BE CONTINUED...

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part Five

2010-06-25T21:50:00.006-04:00

In the interests of "buying time" for the "vacationing" Silver Fox (that's Yours Truly) and the occasionally MIA Skip Simpson and Sandy Herbert, here's the fifth installment of WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW, fellow babies! And this time, as Sly Stone would have said, "it's a family affair!" We're featuring Gretchen's relatives, and Luke's family!

Now, will someone please explain to me how it qualifies as my vacation if I'm writing all of this lengthy ~~crap~~ stuff?!?

* * * * *

Kris Von Grüber -- Gretchen Von Grüber's Uncle Kris is a rich and happy man. A lifelong resident of Germany until roughly ten years ago, as a young man Uncle Kris worked in the West German film industry and directed some films. He then decided to make his career in the music field instead. Kris and his wife took little Gretchen in when her parents, Kris' younger brother and sister-in-law, were killed in a tragic accident twenty or so years ago. They raised Gretchen as their own, and made her part of their family's Kris Von Grüber Happy Oompah Band (currently headlining at the relatively new Las Vegas hotel & casino, Oktoberfest). Soon after the dissolution of Gretchen's marriage to an abusive, alcoholic husband, Uncle Kris moved the band (and thus, his entire extended family) to South Dakota in the USA. Although he currently lives in Las Vegas, where the band has a standing gig, Uncle Kris has expressed a desire to retire from the band and buy a home in Pleasantview (presumably to be near the niece he considers more like a daughter) while indulging his dream to become involved with the motion picture business once again.

Dotty Von Grüber -- Little is known about Gretchen's Aunt Dotty so far. She performs in the Kris Von Grüber Happy Oompah Band along with her husband. She is apparently somewhat younger than Kris, whom she has been with for an unspecified number of years (but obviously more than twenty, having been with him during the entire time he raised Gretchen).

Mr. Tian -- Luke Tian's grandfather (first name not yet given) was, as of eight or nine years ago, still harboring deep resentment toward the Japanese invaders who overran his native China in the 1930s. Physical hurts were all-too-well remembered, and emotional scars ran even more deeply. When the teenage Luke began consorting with various "hoodlums" -- many of whom were of Japanese descent -- Mr. Tian strove to keep young Luke on a straight and narrow path. Luke acknowledged the hurts of the past, saying "I know the Japanese screwed up your left arm when you were about my age, and I know that they killed my grandmother in the waning days of the war," but went on to accuse Mr. Tian of being a racist. Stating in effect that the past was dead, or at should be, Luke taunted his grandfather by saying "Look, old man, maybe you never bothered to read the papers, but that war ended over fifty years ago! The Japanese lost, by the way." Needless to say, Mr. Tian was not even remotely amused, especially when Luke added, "My buddies don't even call me "Luke!" They call me 'Kato! [
a Japanese name]
Maybe I should change my stupid name from Tian to that! Maybe I should change it to 'Kato Kato!' Double the insult!" After Mr. Tian wondered aloud what he or Luke's parents had ever done "to create such an ungrateful, disrespectful, spiteful little monster," Mr. Tian and Luke parted. Mr. Tian's current status -- if he is even still alive -- has not been revealed.

Alan Tian (Ka-Meng Tian) -- Luke Tian's father is the head of Tian Global, an immensely successful import/export company based in Boston, Massachusetts. Within hours of young Luke's outrageously disrespectful argument with his aged grandfather (as described above), an incensed Alan disowned Luke for his familial transgressions. There was absolutely no contact between father and son until a few short months ago, when Luke attempted a reconciliation that apparently did not come to pass. Alan and his wife have two other children, a son and a daughter.

Susan Tian (Soo-Har Lee) -- Little is known so far about Luke Tian's mother, Alan Tian's wife. Immediately before Luke was thrown out of the Tian home -- and, in effect, the family as well -- Susan attempted to warn Luke to leave before his father "caught" him, a warning that came too late to prevent the disastrous father-son verbal confrontation. As stated in Alan Tian's entry, she has two other children besides Luke.

Coming Soon: In the next installment of WHO'S WHO IN PLEASANTVIEW -- whenever that ends up being -- we'll feature the remainder of the Simpson/Lynch Studios: Pleasantview gang!

Thanks for your time!

Act V "Some Idle Thoughts" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-06-21T14:10:00.011-04:00

WPLJ-TV Announcer's Voice: We interrupt our regularly scheduled program of Spy Guys for an editorial rebuttal from Dewey Mellen, editor-in-chief of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet.

Dewey: Citizens of Pleasantview, plus those of neighboring Porterview who are close enough to the WPLJ tower to receive this transmission! Good morning, or evening, or whenever the management at WPLJ decides to air this... probably around 3 a.m. in the morning, if I know them... (pause) Anyway, in a recent editorial by this station's general manager, Ian Cumming, Mr. Cumming editorialized against recent anti-British sentiments expressed by outraged Pleasantview Americans. These outraged Pleasantview Americans I speak of are outraged by the disastrous BP oil disaster which I, in my capacity as editor-in-chief and staff reporter for the Pleasantview Poop Sheet -- available daily in most local retail outlets at a per-copy cost of only fifty cents per copy, or one dollar on Sundays -- unearthed early last week. (pause) In his regularly-scheduled early-morning program, "Cumming At Your Breakfast Table," Mr. Cumming said that it is unfair for our Pleasantview citizens to blame our foreign allies as a whole for the unfortunate situation in the Gulf, or as he himself put it, "It is unfair for our Pleasantview citizens to blame our foreign allies as a whole for the unfortunate situation in the Gulf." Well, as Colonel Harry Potter on M*A*S*H would have said... "Horse hockey!" Don't you people understand what is going on here?!? Not content with changing the name of my Dutch forebears' beloved New Amsterdam to New York so many years ago, the British -- and make no mistake, these so-called "British" are the very same race as the English, who no doubt changed the name of their country to avoid embarrassment over what they've done to our own American native language -- are obviously staging this "accident" as a reprisal for our patriotic forefathers' Boston Tea Party! To this affront, citizens of Pleasantview, I can only offer up a battle cry: "Heck, no! Stop the flow!" We must band together as brothers -- and sisters, too, as I suppose we must, because of all that equal rights stuff -- and fight these terrorists, much as my own father, Crenshaw Mellen, came out publicly against Adolf Hitler and his Nazi followers as early as 1944!

At this point, an exasperated WPLJ Cameraman sighs, shakes his head, and laughingly mutters something to a nearby stagehand. Dewey responds to what he thinks the man has said.

Dewey (to WPLJ Cameraman): "What a hassle?" My fellow citizen, it's more than a mere hassle! It is a catastrophe of catastrophic proportions! (Dewey pauses, then addresses the viewers once again.) Now, rather than sit on my hands and scratch my head, I have offered my expertise to various political groups, starting with the Tea Party, and then moving on to the Coffee Party, the Mr. Pibb Party, the Nehi Party, and others. Those who have read and replied to my extensive resumé and accompanying cover letter have reluctantly informed me that they currently have no openings for new members, so I have taken it upon myself to revive the party of the late, lamented presidential candidate, Patrick Layton Paulsen, the Straight-Talking American Government Party... or "STAG" Party, for short. I hereby declare my intention to throw caution to the breaking wind, and my hat into the rink, and...

The WPLJ Cameraman gives Dewey the traditional "Time" signal.

Dewey: What? I'm out of time already? But I haven't...

WPLJ-TV Announcer's Voice: That was an editorial rebuttal from Dewey Mellen, editor-in-chief of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet. We now return you to our regularly scheduled program of Spy Guys, already in progress.

* * * * *

Scene One (in progress): We suddenly see Buffy and the Skipster standing by a beautiful woodland waterfall. Pretty music is playing.

Buffy: Wow! I promise that your secret will always be safe with me, Skipster.

Skipster: I trust you, Buffy. (The Skipster gives Buffy a small kiss.) Now, let's get back to the van.

Fade out.

* * * * *

Announcer: Spy Guys will return after a word from our sponsor.

* * * * *

Scene Two: Louisville, Kentucky. Monday. 7 pm. The "Spy Guys" -- the Skipster, Mr. Winter, Glory Becker, John Slate, Kitt Kittridge, and Buffy Pleasant -- are sitting in a rented seven-passenger mini-van. They are now intently studying the screen of Agent John Slate's laptop computer, where he is busy inputting data. They are all smoking Tareyton cigarettes.

Slate: When Mr. Winter thought that the fellow on our spycam was Eric Idle, I remembered that Mr. Idle had a connection to the original Rutles. I also remembered that while we were on the plane, one of my web searches revealed that there was going to be a huge Rutles Convention here in Louisville.

Mr. Winter: It's such a shame about Eric Idle. I always thought he was such a gifted young man. Why would he want to destroy the world? It would make more sense for John Cleese...

The computer screen suddenly displays a photo of Eric Idle from his fansite. Slate studies the site for a moment.

Slate: Hmmm. It appears that Eric Idle is appearing in London this week, performing in a live stage show based upon Monty Python's The Life Of Brian. (Slate crushes his cigarette.)

Glory: So, that man with the key... is an Idle impersonator? (Glory crushes her cigarette.)

Slate: It would appear so. Let me check something else. (Slate logs in to GLOBE's database.) Anyone have a cigarette?

(Mr. Winter gives Slate a Tareyton. He lights up.)

Slate: Too bad these don't come in menthol...

Glory: Hmmm. That looks pretty good. Can I have a cigarette too?

(Mr. Winter gives Glory a Tareyton.)

Kittridge: Can I have two cigarettes?

(Mr. Winter gives Kittridge two cigarettes.)

Kittridge: I'm eating my cigarettes...

After a few seconds, the screen begins displaying a video file.

Slate: Here we go. Maybe this will tell us something.

The intrepid agents all crowd around the screen. They are all puffing away on Tareytons.

Skipster: That's interesting! All of the members of this Rutles tribute band have obviously undergone plastic surgery to resemble the original Rutles. They've even changed their names! (pause) Dirk McQuickly's name is spelled wrong in this video, though.

Mr. Winter: It's a pretty common problem, Skipster. It's hard to find desent data inputt perssonnell that kan spel corectly.

Kittridge: This is nuts! We know where the key to the Doomsday Clock is, and we know who has it! I say we just get the key back! Shoot the bastard if we have to! How the hell do we know where in the world Eric Idle/Dirk McQuickly a/k/a "Mike Rotch" is going to be next?

Slate (studying the computer screen)

Looks like he's staying right here.

Glory: What do you mean, John?

Slate: Mike Rotch is right here.

Mr. Winter: Of course your crotch is right here! I can see it!

Slate: I mean, "Cheese 'N' Onions" are scheduled to perform tomorrow at noon, in a huge concert that will be carried live all over the world via satellite.

Glory: So we'll have all the bad eggs in one basket. Then we can nab 'em at noon tomorrow. Break the yolks if we have to.

Mr. Winter: That sounds like an excellent plan, Miss Becker! It'll also give us the opportunity for some much-needed sleep. I missed my afternoon nap, and when that happens, I tend to easily get confused.

Kittridge rolls his eyes and mutters to himself.

Kittridge: So that's his problem.

Skipster: Then I suggest we make our way back to "SnL One." It's got lots of space onboard, and plenty of sleeping accommodations. We'll be able to rest up, and still track the key.

Mr. Winter: Good idea, Skipster! That sounds like an excellent plan! Could we stop at a convenience store along the way? I need to pick up a carton of Tareytons. You know, "They have the taste worth fighting for."

Skipster: Well, normally we don't allow smoking onboard the plane... but since we'll all be smoking Tareytons, I think I can look the other way. (Holding up a pack of Tareytons, he winks at the camera. Freeze frame.)

TO BE CONTINUED...

Act IV "Tricks Are For Kids" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-06-14T21:10:00.001-04:00

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)
:
Y-yes...

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.

Receptionist: Yes?

Kittridge (muttering sullenly)
:
Hiphopgottapackagehere...

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...

Act III "Do We Have A Plan?" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-06-07T22:06:00.005-04:00

Scene One: Monday afternoon. 1:00 pm. In pursuit of the missing key for the Doomsday Clock, our intrepid GLOBE agents have arrived at Montgomery Regional Airport, where they have boarded the private luxury Boeing 777-232ER known as the "SnL One." Onboard are the Skipster, Mr. Winter, Glory Becker, John Slate, Kitt Kittridge, and Buffy Pleasant.

Glory: Holy cow! We have this baby? Man, I'm gonna love this!

Kittridge: Did I ever tell you I hate flying? It's too confining! It makes me crazy!

Everyone ignores Kittridge.

Buffy: You know, this is my first flight? Do we have a flight attendant, or do I help out with getting the drinks and peanuts? I am not sure I can walk in the air (Buffy laughs nervously.).

Skipster: Help yourselves to the amenities onboard. We have a fully stocked galley, and a full bar. I would recommend against any serious imbibing, however, as we are all on duty right now.

Kittridge (under his breath): Speak for yourself...

Slate (holding a large box filled with electronic paraphenalia):Mind if I go up front and set up some equipment?

Skipster: Go right ahead, John. I think I have a pretty good idea what you're up to. By the way, there's a high definition video camera mounted in the nose, and you might be able to tie into that. It might help our plan.

Kittridge (rolling his eyes.): Shit! Do we even have a plan?

Ignoring Kittridge, Slate smiles and nods at the Skipster. He goes up to the flight deck. Skipster looks at Glory.

Skipster: Glory, you told me on the way up here that you've been checked out on this aircraft. Ready to fly the right seat?

Glory: On my way, captain. Standard procedure on the transponder?

The Skipster smiles and nods. Glory starts to go forward to the flight deck. The Skipster puts his hand on her arm.

Skipster: Just don't touch the control yoke yet. I'll explain when I get up front. (Glory nods and continues to the flight deck.)

Buffy: What's a transponder?

Skipster: The transponder is our signal from the aircraft with a unique code. This allows air traffic control to "see" us on their radars. In this case, all aircraft that fly for "secret government organizations" have a special four-digit number that allows us to fly with a minimum of bureaucratic interference from down below.

Buffy: Wow!

Skipster: So, I'd suggest y'all strap in and get ready to do some flyin'.

Buffy starts to turn, then impulsively turns back and plants a kiss on the Skipster's cheek. The Skipster is momentarily taken aback. Kittridge shakes his head in disgust.

Buffy (winking): Punch a hole in the sky, flyboy!

Buffy, Mr. Winter, and Kittridge settle back in comfortable swivel chairs as the Skipster goes forward and takes his seat on the left side of the flight deck. They all fasten their seatbelts.

Kittridge (muttering to himself): "Punch a hole in the sky, flyboy." So "Captain Skippy" is Chuck Yeager all of a sudden. Shit! I hate seatbelts! I hate being confined! It makes me crazy!

Mr. Winter is slumping in his comfortable swivel chair, obviously worried.

Buffy: Mr Winter? Are you feeling alright?

Mr. Winter (after a long pause):I'm just... thinking... about what a silly old man I am. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be in this mess right now.

Kittridge (muttering to himself):You got that right, geezer-breath...

Buffy glares at Kittridge, then turns back to Mr. Winter. She gently places her hand on his arm and tries to console him.

Buffy: Stop blaming yourself, Mr. Winter. Look at it this way... If the Doomsday Clock is detonated, you won't have to worry about getting fired by Headquarters!

Mr. Winter moans and covers his face with his hands. Kittridge snorts loudly. Buffy looks confused. On the flight deck, Skipster and Glory have completed the preflight checklist, and startup of the twin Rolls-Royce Trent 892 engines. Behind them, Slate is in the final stages of assembling a "Key Tracking Station." They begin pushback...

* * * * *

Scene Two: Monday afternoon. 1:45 pm. The team has now been airborne for forty minutes, following the directional signal that they key has been emitting. Electronics genius John Slate has put the finishing touches on his jury-rigged tracking device. The Skipster and Glory Becker are piloting the massive aircraft.

Skipster (to Glory): I'm going to turn on the intercom so they can hear us back there. (The Skipster flicks a switch.) Hello? Can y'all hear me? (The Skipster and Glory hear Mr. Winter's voice through the flight deck speakers.)

Mr. Winter's Voice: I think I just heard the conference table talking to us...

Buffy's Voice (after a pause): Yes, Skipster. We hear you loud and clear. We've had a bit of a problem with Agent Kittridge. He keeps stealing liquor from the bar.

Skipster: Make sure you keep him away from the Jack Daniel's Green Label. That's my partner's private stock.

(The Skipster and Glory hear the sounds of Buffy and Kittridge arguing. Then they hear Kittridge's exasperated voice.)

Kittridge's Voice: Hey! How the hell was I supposed to know?

Slate (clapping his hands together): Okay! That should do it! I've been able to augment and clean up the signal for more precise tracking.

Glory: Nice work, John.

Slate: Ah! But wait! There's more! I've also been able to tie the signal into our GPS, and this little handheld model! (Slate proudly holds up a Carmen portable GPS receiver.)

Glory: Really nice work, John!

Slate: Ah! But wait! There's still more! I've tied this all together with the video camera on the front of the plane, and we'll be able to actually see our quarry.

Glory: Hell! Really, really nice work, John!!!

Skipster (laughing and switching on the video monitor):You may ask yourself, "How does he do it?"

Slate (shrugging his shoulders as the video screen comes to life): What can I say? It's a gift. (The image of I-65 from thirty-five thousand feet comes sharply into view. Slate leans forward to get a better view of the screen.) The signal is coming from about five miles ahead. Can we zoom in?

(The Skipster turns a small knob on the side of the screen, zooming the camera in. The image of a package delivery truck appears.)

Skipster: Bingo! At the speed we're going, versus the speed they're traveling, we're gonna be overtaking it very fast. (looking at Glory) Glory, throttle back to get us at one hundred and fifty knots with full flaps. I wanna get a good look at this thing.

(Glory throttles back and lowers the large flaps on the trailing edge of the wing.)

Skipster: It's a United Transport Service van.

Slate: Can you get the number off the back?

Glory: It looks like E-47. I repeat... Echo-four-seven.

Slate: Cool beans! (He turns to his laptop computer and begins typing.)

Glory: I haven't been there yet.

Skipster: Been where yet?

Glory: Kewl Beanz! It's a coffeehouse in Pleasantview. Do you know it?

Skipster (chuckling):I own it.

Slate: Aha! UTS van E-47 is scheduled to arrive at the freight terminal at Louisville International Airport for offloading.

Glory: You really are sharp, John. (pause) Are you married, by any chance?

Slate (holding up his left hand, displaying a gold wedding band): Wednesday will make five years.

Glory (a little diappointed): Oh. (pause) Does your wife know what you really do for a living?

Slate (sighing):She thinks I work for our decoy company, Global Telecommunications, as an electronics engineer. (sadly) That's the only lie I've ever told her...

Mr. Winter's Voice: Lies are a bad thing in a happy marriage, Mr. Slate. What was it the poet once wrote...?

The Skipster quickly switches the intercom off.

Skipster (changing the subject): Well, folks... looks like it's on to Louisville, Kentucky! (Retracting the flaps, the Skipster smoothly throttles the engines back up to accelerate to 350 knots.)

Glory: What the hell's in Louisville, Kentucky?

Slate, who has already done a web search on Louisville, replies.

Slate: According to Googly, "Louisville is Home of the Kentucky Derby, Fort Knox, bourbon whiskey, the home offices of Papa John's Pizza, the air freight hub of UTS, and the world's largest annual Rutles Festival."

Glory: What the hell's a "Rutles Festival?"

Slate (reading his computer monitor screen): Again, according to Googly, "The Rutles (also known as the Prefab Four) are a band that are known for their visual and aural pastiches and parodies of The Beatles. Originally created by Eric Idle and Neil Innes as a fictional band to be featured as part of various 1970s television programming, the group evolved into a real band that recorded and toured, and released two UK chart hits. Unexpectedly, this parody band became extremely popular, and has spawned many tribute bands, which arrive in June for a week-long Rutles Festival."

Skipster: Sounds like fun. (after a pause) The final destination of the key is in, or near, Louisville... or it's being transferred to a plane to take it somewhere else. Either way, we'll be waiting at the the airport keeping close tabs on that little bugger. Glory, punch in the info for Louisville International Airport, KSDF, in the Flight Management Computer, and let ATC know of our new flight plan. (pause) And John... happy anniversary!

Slate: Which reminds me... maybe I should call and tell her I'm gonna be working a little late tonight, huh?

(The Skipster and Glory both nod.)

TO BE CONTINUED...

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part Four

2010-06-05T02:45:00.004-04:00

Silver Fox here. Heads up, fellow babies! I say "heads," because today's new WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW post contains profiles of a fur-head, an airhead, a dyed head, and a d**k-head! You've been "warned."

* * * * *

Orson the Cat -- Orson is the Foxster's over-fed pet, approximately four years old in "human" years. During the Skipster/Foxster feud, the Skipster actually had Orson "kidnapped" from Massachusetts to Alabama by Luke Tian. The Foxster jetted down to Simpson Studio, in a vain attempt to reclaim his beloved pet. This resulted in a chance meeting between the Foxster and Tara King. Tara was immediately attracted to the Foxster's handsome face; he in turn was immediately attracted to the legs revealed by her mini-skirt. Soon after, Tara impulsively spirited Orson away from Simpson Studio, and the two of them arrived shortly thereafter at the Foxster's bachelor pad in Massachusetts. (And the rest, as we've said before, is history.) Sometime later, the coffee-drinking cat was viciously kicked by the newly-employed Vickie Wickie. Orson suffered two broken ribs which caused a traumatic pneumothorax. Luckily, keen observation by Luke Tian, who subsequently rushed Orson to Pleasantview Animal Hospital, saved Orson's life. He's currently healthy, happy, and presumably well-fed in the Foxster's new home... but he sorely misses Tara.

Carla the Receptionist -- Carla, last name unknown (probably even to her), is the receptionist at Simpson/Lynch Studios. She is somewhere in her forties, and is rumored to have relocated to Alabama from New York City. Carla was hired after an evidently-lackadaisical screening process conducted by both the Skipster and the Foxster. Her work "skills" are debatable; she rarely gets two messages correctly in a row. Carla speaks in a monotone and has an exasperating habit of identifying herself fully each time she calls the Skipster or the Foxster via the studio intercom system ("Mr. Skipster? This is Carla, from downstairs." "Yes, Carla, we know where you are.") and has a penchant for both herbal teas and what she refers to as... umm... "herbal cigarettes."

Barry Cabana -- Born Barnard Cavanaugh over sixty years back, Barry is a fading singer/entertainer. He was one of the Foxster's earliest employers almost fifteen ago -- albeit for only a few weeks -- and the Foxster feels indebted to Barry to this day for the various lessons he learned from the singer. Barry's voice is nowhere near as good as it was when he was at the pinnacle of his career, ten to thirty years ago, when he was known far and wide as "Mr. Broadway." He has had at least three face-lifts, and although his hair's current natural color is chalk-white, he dyes it black with what he self-mockingly describes as "shoe polish." Barry "comes on" as being arrogant, sexist, and abrasive, but those traits all hide a massive insecurity and a realization that he is well past his prime. In a softer, charitable moment, Barry took in Pleasantview's sole homeless individual and allowed the man to stay with him at Simpson/Lynch Studios... whereupon the two men drank excessively and "trashed the place."

Dewey Mellen -- It is often said that every town needs one good newspaper. Unfortunately, Pleasantview has Dewey Mellen's Pleasantview Poop Sheet instead! "Dashing Dewey," as he -- and only he -- calls himself, was an English teacher and the advisor to the yearbook staff at Pleasantview High School until a few short years ago. (If you're wondering how competent he was while there, he not only listed the senior class members' redundantly-titled "future goals," but also headed the school's "Edgar Alan [sic] Poe Society!") After several of what Dewey himself has described as "lonely, overweight, and unpopular female students" complained to school officials about Dewey's unnerving attempts at "reaching out," he was asked to resign, whereupon he began devoting all of his time to Pleasantview's only newspaper (which Dewey had inherited from his late father). Dewey serves as its Editor-in-Chief, staff reporter, and advertising director. Dewey is undeservedly egotistical -- he understandably "struck out" more than once when asking Dr. Jane Kildeer for a date, for example, and now believes she simply doesn't care to date any man his age -- and is extremely sloppy when fact-checking his articles for the Pleasantview Poop Sheet. Only his page five local gossip column, Dewey's Doings, appears without need for later corrections of misspellings or goofs of a similar nature... and that's only thanks to his own mother, who proofreads Dewey's Doings, but not the rest of the paper. In other words, putting it much more succinctly... Dewey's an idiot.

Coming Soon: A special "All in the Family" post in Part Five of WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW!

Thanks for your time.

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part Three

2010-06-01T00:05:00.008-04:00

Silver Fox (not the "Foxster"), here, with Part Three of WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW! This time we feature some of our ever-growing supporting cast, namely, the three who were instrumental in keeping the Foxster alive a while ago, when he had his heart attack.

By the way, fellow babies, throughout WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW, I could -- should? -- have thrown in 8,000,000 "linky-things" to "prove" all these fascinatin' facts I'm throwin' at ya, but that would have taken an additional couple of hours, and this was supposed to be my freakin' "vacation," y'know?!?

* * * * *

Dr. Jane Kildeer -- Dr. Kildeer saved the Foxster's life when he was rushed to Pleasantview Community Hospital after a recent heart attack. During her follow-up consultations with the Foxster, she convinced him to quit smoking cigarettes, and strongly suggested that he (as well as Tara) abandon the communal living arrangements at Simpson/Lynch Studios. (The SnL staff's "living arrangements" placed the Skipster & Gretchen, the Foxster & Tara, and Luke Tian all under the same roof during the majority of their working and leisure hours.) This prompted the Foxster to purchase what was and still is referred to as "the Old Fenneman Estate," into which he swiftly moved along with Tara. Not only is Dr. Kildeer an accomplished physician with a genuine concern for her patients' well-being, she is also an attractive, affable single woman with a wonderful sense of humor. She is constantly being told that she resembles actress Nicole Kidman, which unfortunately means that she more than slightly resembles Vickie Wickie, as well.

Frank the EMT -- Frank (last name undisclosed thus far) was luckily on the scene (and on duty) when the Foxster had his heart attack. A rugged, charismatic individual with matinée idol looks, Frank has expressed a desire to the Foxster to become a "movie star," which may or may not have been a joke. A chance meeting with Milo Fenderbender at Kewl Beanz! left Frank with the unsettling impression that he'd seen Milo before, while Milo exited as soon as possible, looking like he'd seen "a ghost." Frank also confided in Tara that he was "getting deeply attracted" to someone he worked with at the hospital. He swore Tara to secrecy about the matter, and although the two of them have presumably discussed the matter at length by now, "off-screen," as it were, this "someone's" identity has yet to be revealed to our readers.

Nurse Betty -- Betty (last name unrevealed) is the head nurse in Pleasantview Community Hospital's ICU. Betty is remarkably efficient, and at least as competent as everyone else at PCH with whom the Foxster made contact during his stay there. Betty wears her dark brown hair in a style popular among many of Pleasantview's female citizens, a hairdo known as "The Tara" (in honor of Tara King's boost to the local economy via Simpson/Lynch Studios' Kewl Beanz! coffeehouse, restaurant, and nightclub, which Tara helms).

Coming Soon: The next installment of WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW will focus on four characters who are all very different from one another!

Thanks for your time.

Act II "Where Are My Little Pants?" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-05-24T23:30:00.002-04:00

Scene One: Conference room, GLOBE Relay Station, Pleasantview, Alabama. Monday morning, 10 a.m. Mr. Winter is searching all his pockets for the key to the embarrassingly mislabeled "Doomsday Clock." Seated at the table are the Skipster, Buffy Pleasant, Glory Becker, John Slate, and Kitt Kittridge.

Mr. Winter: Okay... I know I have it here somewhere... Ah! Eureka! (He produces a key and tosses it on the table with a flourish.)

The Skipster examines the key closely.

Skipster: Umm... Mr. Winter? By any chance, have you received a piece of mail lately that announced that you may have won a car if you bring a key down to the dealership?

Mr. Winter: Why, yes, I did, Skipster! Just the other day I got a big postcard from Pleasantview Toyota. (brief pause) I like those Toyotas! They're dependable and get great petrol mileage. (brief pause) Why?

Skipster: Because I got the same postcard. There was a cheap plastic key attached that looked... exactly like this one.

Mr. Winter: That's great news, Skipster! So we've both won Toyotas!

Slate: Uhh, no, Mr. Winter. I think the Skipster is saying that this isn't the key we're looking for.

Glory: Think, Mr. Winter! What were you wearing when GLOBE delivered the Doomsday Co... Clock?

Mr. Winter (thinking hard): Well... it was Saturday, and I was the only one here... I was listening to Vivaldi on the stereo in my office. I believe I was wearing my little pants...

Kittridge (laughing out loud): "Little pants???"

Mr. Winter (indignantly): Bermuda shorts to you, Mr. Kittridge! It was rather warm here in the building, as I had shut off all the air conditioners to save money. Yes! That's it! I believe I put the key in my little pants!

Buffy: Wait! I think the dry cleaners picked those up this morning! I'll call Sudsy Doodle Cleaners & Laundry, to see if they found the key! (Buffy exits.)

Kittridge (sighing): So now we have a device that can destroy the world, with the activation key in the possession of Sudsy Doodle! (shaking his head) Please tell me I'm having a bad dream.

* * * * *

Scene Two: The secret lair of a secret villainous organization known -- only to themselves -- as ENEMA. ENEMA is comprised of a motley bunch of terrorists, criminals... and former Tea Party activists. Three swarthy men are sitting around a table monitoring what looks like a tracking device.

Head Honcho Swarthy Man: Gentlemen, phase one of our plan is complete. The Doomsday Key is well on its way to its destination.

Second Swarthy Man: Yes. Soon the world will know of the power ENEMA alone possesses.

Head Honcho Swarthy Man:: And if they do not capitulate to our demands, we will destroy them all!

Third Swarthy Man (shifting uncomfortably in his chair): Umm... question? Not to rain on anybody's parade, here... but I was was just thinking. (brief pause) May I have permission to speak freely, sir?

Head Honcho Swarthy Man: By all means.

Third Swarthy Man: Well... I was just wondering... if the world refuses to "capitulate to our demands" as you so succintly put it... and let's say we actually did destroy the world... wouldn't we be blowing ourselves up in the process?

Head Honcho Swarthy Man smiles, calmly pulls out an automatic pistol, and shoots Third Swarthy Man dead.

Head Honcho Swarthy Man: I hate people that over-analyze things...

* * * * *

Scene Three: Conference room, GLOBE Relay Station, Pleasantview, Alabama. Monday morning, 11 a.m. Still seated at the table are the Skipster, Glory Becker, John Slate, and Kitt Kittridge. Buffy Pleasant is entering the room through the automatic sliding doors.

Buffy: Bad news, sir. Sudsy Doodle only does pickups and deliveries on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Mr. Winter: So they found the key? Great!

Buffy (patiently): No, sir. Today is Monday. Whoever picked up your little pants was not an official Doodle Driver.

Slate: So we were duped by the Doodle Driver?

Glory: It doesn't sound like it was a Doodle Driver duping us. It sounds more like a dubious double for the Doodle Driver.

Skipster: Ah-ha! The Doodle Driver was not merely a double, then, but a divergent deputy from a dastardly den of dangerous desperadoes?

Kittridge: Can I play, too? (brief pause) How about... We're desperately digging for direction, and we're getting diddly-squat, dudes!

Mr. Winter: Ooooh. Nice one, Mr. Kittridge.

Skipster: So... speaking of direction, wouldn't something that valuable have some sort of tracking device?

Slate (snapping his fingers): Yes! Wasn't there a little black box sitting on this table a few hours ago?

Mr. Winter: Oh, that! I thought it was pretty, with the blinking lights and all, and I put it in my office as a paperweight.

Kittridge leans back and sighs, rolling his eyes.

Buffy (glaring at Kittridge): I'll go get it.

Buffy exits, only to return a moment later with a small black box. She places it on the middle of the table. They all stare at it.

Skipster: Okay, John. You're the tech whiz. What is it?

Slate: It's a rudimentary tracking device, Model RS-100, orginally manufactured by Tandy Corporation, and sold at Radio Shacks nationwide. It was a big seller back in '89.

Kittridge (sarcastically): Oh yeah. I remember getting one for Christmas! Look, genius, can this gadget help us or what?

Slate: Well, let's just turn it on and see. (Slate flicks the switch on. More lights start flashing. Suddenly the device shuts down.) Damn! The batteries must be dead. (opening the battery compartment) Anyone have two triple-A's?

Mr. Winter: Check the old batteries, Mr. Slate. If they're from Radio Shack, we can get free replacements for life! (proudly) I'm a member of the battery club!

Glory: Hang on... (She opens the battery compartment of the remote to the video screen and produces two triple-A batteries.) Here ya go!

Slate: Excellent! (Slate inserts the new batteries. The tracking device starts back up.) Interesting. The LED readouts are obviously coordinates, and they are slowly changing. (looking up) The key is on the move! (Slate gets up and runs to the map on the wall.) It looks like it's now in Prattville, Alabama. (He studies the readouts for a moment.) It also looks like it's headed due north at slightly higher-than-average highway speed.

Skipster (thinking for a moment): Mr. Winter? Did GLOBE provide this station with a plane?

Mr. Winter: Why, yes indeedy, Skipster! A very pretty Piper Cub. Bright yellow! And...

Skipster (cutting him off): Never mind. I have something that will do a pretty good job of tracking that key from the air. So! (looking around) Who's up for a plane ride?

Everyone except Kittridge raises one hand. Buffy raises two hands. Mr. Winter notices.

Mr. Winter: Miss Pleasant, I cannot allow you to go on this mission, as you are not yet a qualified field agent.

Buffy: Mr. Winter, I want to do this! Please give me a chance to prove myself.

Mr. Winter (shrugging): Well, since you put it like that... All right. You may come along, too. After all, I can't get into any more trouble than I am now.

The Skipster and Glory look at Kittridge.

Skipster: Here's your chance for some adventure, Sparky.

Kittridge: Wow. Tracking a key from 25,000 feet in the air. Sounds breathtaking.

Mr. Winter (fixing Kittridge with an icy stare): Mr. Kittridge! Ever since you've arrived here, all you've done is whine and complain. Now we are presented with a mission that may or may not be successful. It is imperative that my staff give total cooperation in this matter. In other words, Mr. Kittridge... (leaning forward and speaking softly) you can either shit or get off the pot.

Kittridge sheepishly raises his hand.

Kittridge: Aww, well... You guys probably need my expertise anyway.

Glory: And I'm sure we're all dying to know what that is. (brief pause) C'mon, Sparky... Let's roll!

Buffy slides her arm through the Skipster's.

Buffy: Wow! A real adventure! This is gonna be so much fun!

Slate: Just give me a few minutes to round up some stuff we may need...

TO BE CONTINUED...

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part Two

2010-05-21T00:01:00.004-04:00

Again, for our newer readers (mostly), here's WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW! Today, fellow babies, we focus on two "baddies" and a beauty!

* * * * *

Vickie Wickie -- Vickie's full, stated name is presumably an alias of some kind. She is in her very late twenties. Little is known of her life before she was hired by Simpson/Lynch Studios to be SnL's new Executive Assistant when Gretchen was promoted to Director of Operations. (She had used some undisclosed method of subterfuge to insure that hers was the only application which reached them in answer to their ad.) Vickie once claimed to the Skipster that her estranged father recently passed away; she has never spoken about her mother, nor any other family members. Since she joined the SnL staff, Vickie has worked continually -- but to no avail -- to get some or all of the Simpson/Lynch fortune, as her personal goal seems to be to become wealthy before she reaches the age of thirty. Her initial efforts at seducing both the Foxster and the Skipster met with defeat, although she eventually planted enough false clues that she and the Skipster were indeed having an affair to make the non-confrontational Gretchen break off her engagement to the Skipster and leave without a word. Gretchen has always felt uneasy around her, as has Luke, while the more emotional Tara blatantly can't stand her. Vickie is a heartless, racist, social-climbing, animal-hating, self-centered bitch whose only means of entertainment seem to be feeding live mice to her boa constrictor, and having sex... and the latter occurs only when things are going 100% Vickie's way. In fact... calling Vickie a "bitch" does a grave disservice to female dogs everywhere.

Milo Fenderbender -- Oddly enough, "Fenderbender" is Milo's real last name, the result of an immigration officer's warped sense of humor when Milo's immediate family escaped the Soviet Union and immigrated to the USA in the early 1960s. Milo is a disbarred lawyer, in his early fifties, who still has various seedy "connections." He has known Vickie Wickie for an unspecified time, and serves as her partner of a sort, for no real compensation other than rare instances of sex and (presumably) whatever entertainment Vickie's nefarious actions provide for him. Milo is crude and sexist, although he can act quite worldly and even charming when it suits his purposes. Milo seems to be as well-versed in pop culture as both the Foxster and Luke Tian; in a much different world (that is, one in which Milo was not such an unrepentant scuzz-ball), the three might all be friends. Quite some time ago, Milo set his sleazy sites on Tara King, and frequents Kewl Beanz! in hopes of someday "nailing" her... hopes which are thus far unrewarded, thankfully.

Isabella "Bella" Vergara -- Little is known about the beautiful Bella at this time. She is the recently-hired Assistant Manager of Kewl Beanz! and the mother of a small child (gender currently unspecified to this blog's readers). Whether she is divorced, widowed, or single has not been revealed, but she is currently "unattached" in the romantic sense. She is probably in her mid-twenties. Bella came from Colombia and speaks fluent English, albeit with a fetchingly heavy accent. She is very well-versed in all aspects of the SnL staff's public personas.

More Coming Soon!

Thanks for your time.

WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW ~~ Part One

2010-05-19T00:01:00.004-04:00

As promised, here is Part One of the official WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW! These entries will be interspersed with various chapters of Spy Guys until our WHO'S WHO is done.

* * * * *

Skip Simpson, a/k/a the "Skipster" -- The Skip Simpson you see on this blog, a/k/a "The Skipster," is in his late thirties. Romantically, he's always been somewhat of a loner... until recently. After a short career in the military, which (we can now safely assume) was followed by a five-year stint with the international spy organization known as GLOBE, the Skipster decided to rejoin the "real" world and indulge his creative side. He wound up at a Boston TV station, which in turn brought him into contact with the man he calls "the Foxster," approximately five years the Skipster's junior. They collaborated on and sold the screenplay for an immensely-popular cult film called Son of Reefer Madness, and the rest is history. In no time at all, the two were enormously wealthy, becoming friends and/or associates of some of the biggest names in the entertainment field... as well as Ben Affleck and Paris Hilton, apparently. Approximately two years ago, however, the Skipster relocated from Massachusetts to Alabama, where the distance from the Foxster eventually put a strain on their partnership. (Oh, and by the way: Neither the real Skip Simpson nor his blog counterpart have the name "Skip" on their birth certificates. Just sayin'.)

David M. Lynch, a/k/a the "Foxster" -- Things don't always go according to plan... For Massachusetts-born David M. Lynch -- his "M" stands for Macaulay, by the way, unlike my own middle name of Michael! -- said plan was for him to become an investigative journalist right out of high school, roughly fifteen years ago. Instead, he worked (briefly) writing "goo-goo love poetry" for a greeting card company before landing a job in New York on the writing staff of a daytime soap opera called Ocean Haven, under the pseudonym of "David DaSilva." The restless young David then migrated west toward California, stopping off in Las Vegas, where -- again, briefly -- he was employed by headliner Barry Cabana. (Sometime during this period, David picked up the nickname of "The Silver Fox," which years later became "the Foxster," thanks to Skip "Skipster" Simpson.) After finding work in Tinseltown -- mostly as an uncredited re-write man for the major studios -- David used emails & faxes to keep his foot in the proverbial Hollywood "door" so he could move back to Massachusetts. While working for a Boston TV station, he met and formed a creative partnership with the Skipster. Their collaborative efforts soon made them rich, but a strain between them resulted from the Skipster's move to Alabama roughly eight years later, a strain which resulted in a mercifully-short "feud" during which the two dissolved their partnership. At feud's end, the Foxster relocated to Alabama to prevent further occurrences of this sort. The Foxster is in his early thirties. He has very weak, light-sensitive eyes, and usually wears dark prescription sunglasses, even at night... which many mistake for an eccentric affectation. Romantically, the Foxster has always see-sawed between being somewhat of a committed idealist, and somewhat of a self-proclaimed "male slut"... until recently.

Gretchen Von Grüber -- Hailing from Germany, along with her Uncle Kris Von Grüber, his wife Dotty, and several family members who comprised the Kris Von Grüber Happy Oompah Band, Gretchen was orphaned as a youngster. Gretchen is in her late twenties. While still a teenager, she entered into an unhappy marriage with a verbally and physically abusive husband named Friedrich. For all intents and purposes, the marriage ended when Friedrich pushed a pregnant Gretchen down a flight of stairs, causing her to lose the baby. Eventually, the Von Grübers relocated to South Dakota. When Gretchen read that the Simpson/Lynch partnership had (temporarily) ended, she applied for the job of the Skipster's Personal Assistant (later Executive Assistant to both the Skipster and the Foxster). In no time at all, she had fallen deeply in love with the Skipster, but had no idea he felt the same about her until he proposed to her at the grand opening gala for the Kewl Beanz! coffeehouse, restaurant, & night club. Before another month had gone by, the Skipster had whisked her away for several romantic weeks in Hawaii. Soon after their return, however, she developed doubts about their relationship...

Tara King -- Tara's history is spotty at best before she was hired (as a paid intern) by the Skipster, at the same time as he hired Gretchen. All we really know about her prior to that was that she was homeless for a time and living in Gainesville, Florida, before travelling to Pleasantview to apply for the position of "paid intern." She claims a "classical education," which is not exactly borne out by her purported attendance at the University Of Florida in Gainesville on her original job application to what was then known as Simpson Studio. As it is, however, she evidently did not attend UF. She appears to be in her early twenties, but constantly remarks that "I'm older than I look." The highly-intelligent Tara is quick to anger, but just as quick to calm down and apologize when shown the error of her ways. She is also fluent in several languages... English, German, and Chinese (at least, the linguistic subdivision spoken by Luke), to name only three. In fact, she rapidly taught English to Gretchen. When Tara and Gretchen met, the two women formed an immediate bond. Similarly, even before the Skipster and the Foxster reconciled, Tara had formed an immediate, romantic (and reciprocal) attachment for the Foxster as well. She briefly left the Skipster's employ and moved to Massachusetts to live with the Foxster, but joined the resurrected Simpson/Lynch Studios when the Foxster moved down South. Shortly thereafter, Tara was promoted to the newly-created position of Manager of Kewl Beanz!, after which she and the Foxster became even closer. She moved into his newly-purchased house shortly before a terrible misunderstanding and vicious verbal argument between the two caused her to leave him. Her current status as an employee of Simpson/Lynch Studios has not yet been revealed. Tara has recently completed & sold a novel entitled Thaleia: A Love Story, for which she received a huge advance royalty check from her publisher.

Luke Tian (Xu-Ning Tian) -- Luke, who is in his mid-twenties, has been estranged from his family ever since he had an angry disagreement with his aged grandfather eight or nine years ago. He was immediately disowned by his father, Alan Tian, owner of a prosperous Boston, Massachusetts, import/export company known as Tian Global. Luke met Tara King about four years ago when the two were homeless in Gainesville; in tender conversational moments, Tara refers to Luke as her "little brother" although he is apparently two or three years her elder. At the time of their meeting, he was using the rather awkward alias of "Kato Kato." After joining Tara on her bus trip from Gainesville to Pleasantview, he used the Kato Kato alias when he applied for the multiple positions of cook, limousine driver, bodyguard, and "houseboy" for Simpson Studio. Luke recently began using his real name again, however, after attempting a reconciliation with his father. (No details of this attempt have yet been revealed, but it apparently did not go well.) Luke is a superb cook, a skilled chauffeur, and a reluctant but able fighter. He is also as obsessed with pop culture as is the Foxster, whom Luke has come to like and respect despite their initial misgivings about one another (forged during the Skipster/Foxster "feud").

More Coming Friday!

And thanks for your time.

For Those Who Came In Late: WHO'S WHO in PLEASANTVIEW!

2010-05-17T20:20:00.002-04:00

Note from David M. Lynch (the real one, not "the Foxster"): For the first time since this blog was "inaugurated" on September 4th of last year, both myself and Skip Simpson are involved with enough "real world" activities to make this blog somewhat less than first -- or even second, third, or 47th -- on our list of priorities.

After wrapping up what Skip and I refer to as "Season One" of Pleasantview, I decided to take a so-called vacation. The agreement was that Skip would handle the lion's share of his own creation, Spy Guys, while I would contribute only an occasional section of dialogue, a plot assist here and there, and some of what I refer to as "editing for sameness of style." (You know, that minor rewriting that makes it look like Skip's posts, my posts, and those attributed to an author known only as "Simpson/Lynch Studios" are all written by the same person.)

Skip, who has recently reunited -- at first, only online & by telephone -- with his "favorite ex-wife" (number three in a series, collect 'em all!), Sandy, was recently blessed with a visit in Alabama by Sandy "in the flesh." After this visit, the two of them traveled to Sandy's stomping grounds in Virginia, where they've been doing all sorts of fun stuff... like searching for places with internet access, not to mention freakin' electricity & running water, fer cryin' out loud! (I'm exaggerating, but only a bit!) I'll let him fill you in on further details, if ever he decides to do so.

Anyway, this put Skip -- and Sandy, too, whom Skip made his co-conspirator on Spy Guys -- in a position where he, like myself before him, felt/feels totally justified (as well he should) in ignoring any self-imposed "deadlines" on a blog we both bust our individual asses on with absolutely zero pay for our efforts. (That, by the way, is why we're such pitiful "comment whores." When people don't comment, we have no idea what we're doing well, or not so well, in our readers' eyes. But I digress.)

Skip and I both fully realize that the nature of both Pleasantview and Spy Guys, with their on-going storylines -- we think of both stories as "nighttime soap operas" like Dynasty, The Sopranos, Lost, Dallas, and the like -- can be more than a little off-putting for newer readers. So I decided to make a list of virtually all of the "Snl" characters for the newbies, to be posted every couple of days. It'll be fairly "dry" reading... if you bother at all, that is... and there won't be much at all that regular followers don't know already... but there may be one or two things that only the sharpest of our sharp-eyed readers might have caught... and I might just throw in a little tid-bit or two that has never been revealed before, just to see if you're paying attention!

As is the case with the blog itself, some entries -- or parts of entries -- will be vaguely humorous, while others will not be. (Contrast Gretchen's abusive marriage or Tara's homelessness with Carla the Receptionist's or Dewey Mellen's bios, for example.)

This "Who's Who" will be kind of lengthy, even for me, since it encompasses virtually all of our characters to date (although most of the really incidental cast members only get a few sentences). Therefore, I'm going to break it into several installments, which will give the SnL team even more of a breather. Nevertheless, you may not want to read these entries from start to finish (unless you have lots of time... and patience), but perhaps "visit" them now and then, as necessary.

Wish me luck, fellow babies... and thanks for your time.

To Be Continued... Wednesday!

Act I "A Tasty Piece" - The Doomsday Matter

2010-05-10T14:00:00.001-04:00

Scene: Conference room, GLOBE Relay Station, Pleasantview, Alabama. Monday morning, 9 a.m. Mr. Winter stands in front of a huge, draped object hanging on the wall near the head of the conference table. Seated at the table are the Skipster, Buffy Pleasant, Glory Becker, John Slate, and Kitt Kittridge.

Mr. Winter: First of all, I'd like to welcome a former agent who has decided to return to the fold: The Skipster. (Everyone applauds except Kittridge, who murmers a sarcastic "Yay.")

The Skipster (acknowledging everyone): Thank you. It's good to be back.

Mr. Winter (pressing on): The Skipster has decided to return, because he recently went through a very bad breakup with his fiancée. Gretchen Von Grüber, I believe her name was...

Skipster: Uh... Mister Winter... you really don't need...

Buffy: No! I want to hear more. (Buffy bats her baby blue eyes at the Skipster.)

Mr. Winter (continuing): Evidentally she left the engagement ring lying on the bed, and disappeared for no apparent reason. No note. No goodbyes. Just heartache...

Buffy: Ooooh. (Buffy starts writing on a piece of paper.)

Skipster (exasperated): Mr. Winter... I...

Mr. Winter (continuing): Yes... Love can be a pretty fickle beast. What was it the poet once wrote? "For I have loved and lost. 'Twas better to have lost, than have never lost at all. For as I stood on those ramparts we watched... at the twilight's last gleaming. At end of a love, whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous night..."

Buffy passes a note to the Skipster across the table that reads, "555-6947. Call me."

Skipster: (exasperated) Mr. Winter!!! Can we get please get back to the briefing???

Mr. Winter: Hm? Oh yes. The briefing. Ahem. We have an awesome responsibility starting today, ladies and gentlemen. Behind this covering is a gift of sorts from GLOBE's main headquarters. (Mr. Winter removes covering with a dramatic flourish, revealing a large clock face, protected by a clear, bulletproof cabinet with a large padlock.) GLOBE's own Doomsday Clock!

Slate: Umm... But... the sign above it says "Doomsday..." umm... is that word what I think it is?

Buffy: And the clock's "hands" look more like... little male... umm... "thingies." (She looks over at the Skipster and winks.)

Glory (smiling knowingly):They're not that little, honey. (Glory sighs. She looks over at Slate and winks.)

Kittridge is laughing his ass off.

Mr. Winter (clearing throat): Ahh... yes. A little mix-up in the design department, I fear. They left out the "L," and... No matter.

Skipster: (purposely ignoring the doe-eyed stares of Buffy) Mr. Winter, what's the purpose of this Doomsday Co-- I mean, Doomsday Clock? There's already a Doomsday Clock!

Mr. Winter: The purpose? (dramatic pause) Ours works, Skipster! (scattered "oohs" and "ahhs" from those seated) Which is why this clock is locked and... (reaching into vest pocket, frowning) umm... (reaches into left and right coat pockets, still frowning) That is... (searches pants pockets, with panicked expression) uhhhh... (clearing throat and regaining composure) ...safe in our humble little GLOBE Relay Station here in Pleasantview, Alabama!

Slate: So... let me get this straight. This thing actually has the potential of destroying the world, as we know it? Why on earth was it ever built?

Mr. Winter: Ours is not to question why, Mr. Slate. All we care about is that it exists... and now that it does, it can never be used!

Glory: Okay. So... they spent like a trillion dollars to develop something that can never be used? (Shakes her head in disbelief.) Who were the rocket scientists that thought that one up?

Kittridge: And they put it in Pleasantview? Pleasant-freaking-view? Why Pleasantview? I mean... well...This town sucks!

Skipster (in a low voice): Rein it in, Kittridge...

Mr. Winter: (ignoring Kitt) GLOBE's board of directors felt that this would be the safest location, because any future attacks on GLOBE throughout the world would tend to hit our major branches. New York, Amsterdam, London, Zurich, Prague, Bangkok...

Kittridge: Don't you mean, "Bangklok?" Ha! Get it? (Everyone rolls their eyes and groans. Slate rolls up a piece of paper and tosses it at Kittridge.)

Mr. Winter (ignoring Kitt again): So our rather remote Pleasantview location is seen as being under the proverbial radar... and thus, quite safe.

Skipster: Terrific. (pause) By the way, Mr. Winter... Have you found the key yet?

Mr. Winter: Hm? What key? Oh... that key. Uh... I'm sure it'll turn up eventually, heh heh. (Claps his hands) Now, who's up for cake?

Everyone goes "Oooooooh."

Mr. Winter (continuing) Miss Buffy has honored us today with one of her delectable Southern creations, "White chocolate cake with raspberry cream cheese filling, and festive white chocolate truffle icing, with red and white rosettes." (Everyone applauds.)

Buffy (beaming): And I hope y'all like it. I got it right from Miss Paula Deen, herself! I stayed up half of last night makin' it. The inscription on top is for especially for you, Mr. Winter. (Buffy looks directly at the Skipster.) And our new guest gets a nice big tasty piece. (There is a sudden look of panic on Kittridge's face.)

Buffy walks over the the counter where her round covered Tupperware cake container sits. She lifts the lid. She screams.

Buffy: It's gone! Someone ate all the cake! (Kittridge sinks low in his seat.)

Slate (looking at Kittridge):It was you, wasn't it, Kittridge?

Kittridge (stammering):I... I thought that it was for me! The inscription read "To a wonderful man!"

Skipster (sighing): Great!!! How can we protect a device that can destroy the world when we can't even protect a "White chocolate cake with raspberry cream cheese filling, and festive white chocolate truffle icing, with red and white rosettes?"

To Be Continued...

Spy Guys - "The Doomsday Matter"

2010-05-04T00:01:00.001-04:00

The regularly scheduled feature, Pleasantview, is currently on hiatus. In its place, we will be running a continuing feature entitled Spy Guys.

To Be Continued...

A "SPY GUYS" Teaser!

2010-04-29T01:21:00.012-04:00

From Page Five of the Pleasantview Poop Sheet, April thirtieth:

DEWEY'S DOINGS!

(The up-to-the-minute, complete-as-we-can-get-it, lowdown on Pleasantview's mad social whirl, contributed by Editor-in-Chief, staff reporter, and advertising director, "Dashing" Dewey Mellen! Proofreading provided by staff member Irene "Mom" Mellen!)

Hi, fans, here's old "Dashing Dewey" with whatever groovy gossip has crossed my desk in the past twenty-four hours. And HEY! How did that HAM SANDWICH get in here, ha-ha!

Rumor has it: This roving reporter has been repeatedly hearing stories that dark storm clouds have arisen in the personal lives of the team of Simpson & Lynch at the Simpson/Lynch Studios. First we heard that the Foxster's paramour, the lovely and perky Tara King, went ballistic and decided to go splitsville. Then we heard that the Skipster's fiancée, the fetching Gretchen Von Grüber, suddenly called off their engagement for an undisclosed reason. The local buzz mentions a lot of yelling, suicide attempts, and guns fired into the ceiling, but these stories remain largely unsubstantiated. Repeated calls by this intrepid reporter have been repeatedly ignored.

Seen about town: Pleasantview Community Hospital's own Dr. Jane Kildeer, on the arm of... no one! That's right! The red-tressed temptress is evidently Pleasantview's Most Eligible Bachelorette. And here's a tip for all you younger guys to try your luck, as the dollish doctor is apparently not interested in men her own age and/or older, judging from a few subtle attempts by this reporter to score a home run in that particular ballpark.

Here's an item directed at those wacky, zany, party-going manly-men types here in Pleasantview: According to the Assistant Manager of Kewl Beanz!, Bella Vergara, there is no "other" in her life, significant or otherwise, ha-ha! Looks like this cuddly Colombian is Pleasantview's Most Eligible Bachelorette.

A lot of you have asked me what the Poop's scoop is on the new brick building on the Pleasantview/Porterview line, Global Telecommunications. That's the new one with the big antenna and huge satellite dishes in the backyard, and the helicopter on the roof.

Well, as it turns out, it is not a place to pay your cell phone or cable bills. Whatever they do there, it's pretty boring, according to Global Telecommunications' receptionist, Pleasantview's own Annabell-Lee Pleasant. Miss Pleasant, who was known variously as "Chipmunk Cheeks," "Wide Glide," and "Buffy" when she attended Pleasantview High School just a few short years ago, was cordial but otherwise standoffish with this reporter, no doubt forgetting that when she was a drab and unpopular high school senior, a certain advisor to the Yearbook Staff went out of his way to make her feel wanted and appreciated, for all the good it ever did him! Of course, that was before certain school board officials, and one Superintendent of Schools who shall remain nameless, unfairly decided that this Yearbook Staff Advisor and English Teacher was stepping beyond the bounds of propriety in reaching out to many of the lonely, overweight, and unpopular female students in his heart-felt attempts to make them feel a sense of self-value, suggesting instead that he devote all of his time to that "silly little newspaper" he'd inherited from his late father, Crenshaw Mellen.

Anyway, I hope Miss Pleasant will realize someday that it takes more than a stylish make-over and an unhealthy reliance on the family name to make her a candidate for anything above and beyond this apparently dead-end job.

Finally, I must mention that yesterday's item about a budding romance between Town Clerk Carol Brady and Mayor Calvin T. Burnside was totally unfounded. This is according to repeated calls from Miss Brady, Mayor Burnside's Office, and the Law Offices of Flarn, Flarn, Flarn, & Felth. So it looks like Miss Brady is still Pleasantview's Most Eligible Bachelorette!

As Bugs Bunny always says, "That's All, Folks!" Tune in tomorrow for more Doings from Dashing Dewey, and I'll try to finish that HAM SANDWICH, ha-ha!

* * * * *

And Coming May 4th:

VICKIE, VICTORIOUS!!!

2010-04-25T23:00:00.008-04:00

Scene One: Vickie Wickie has just called Milo Fenderbender. We see each of them in their respective homes as they speak on the telephone. It is early morning as Milo answers.

Milo: Vickie! Hi!

Vickie (cheerfully): Good morning, Milo! How's it goin', old buddy?

Milo: Vickie?!? Uhhh... "Old buddy?" (pause) Have you been drinking?

Vickie (laughing): Nope! (brief pause) How's life at Kewl Beanz! lately? (brief pause) Seen much of Tara? (Vickie chuckles.)

Milo: No, actually, not since a couple of nights ago, when you called me to say she'd gone missing. Bella says she took a few days off, for "personal reasons." (brief pause) Spill it, girl, what do you know that I apparently don't know?

Vickie: Heh. Don't expect her to show up again, ever! She and the fuzzy Fox had a biiiig blow-out! They've apparently split up! (Vickie laughs.) Nobody's even seen him, or her, for a few days! What's that expression you like to use, "I love it when a plan comes together?"

Milo: What "plan?" We can't take any credit for that!

Vickie: Awww, don't underestimate yourself, Milo! Whoever she was with that night -- before she finally dragged her sorry little well-shagged ass home -- the Foxster evidently assumes it was you!

Milo: You're in awfully good spirits.

Vickie: I certainly am! (brief pause) Just watched my baby boa have his breakfast, too. (pause) And today, Milo, m'dear, I hope to put the finishing touches on my plan, the one I've been working on for weeks!

Milo: Which is...?

Vickie: I have planted more than half a dozen phony "clues" for "Gretch the Wretch," to make her think the Skipster and I have been sleeping together behind her back. And she's so gullible, I'm betting she's believed every single one... at least the ones that she's been bright enough to notice! I'm also betting she hasn't had the guts to say anything to old "Skip-to-my-Lou" about any of them! (Vickie laughs loudly.)

Milo (hopefully, after a long pause): I don't suppose...?

Vickie: You want to know if I'm in the mood for "the old Fenderbender Treatment?" (to herself, aloud, laughing) I can't believe I just said that! (to Milo) Tell you what, Milo, if everything goes well this afternoon, I just may grant your sleazy little wish!

Milo: Sweet! (brief pause) What exactly do you have planned for "this afternoon?"

Vickie: The Skipster is supposed to help me with -- believe it or not -- my freakin' golf game. And I know little Gretchie-poo will be lurking around somewhere! So, unless I'm "busy" for real with the Skipster himself tonight... heh... I may invite you to my digs to... celebrate!

Milo: Mmm! Good luck to both of us, then!

Vickie: I can't speak for you, Milo, but I make my own luck! (cheerfully) Ta-ta! (Vickie disconnects.)

* * * * *

Scenes Two and Three: "Pleasantview, Season One" Opening Credits and "Vickie, Victorious!!!"

* * * * *

What Next, You Wonder?!?

Hey, Don't Ask Us!!! We Only Write This Blog!!!

Coming Up Is a Little "Teaser," Actually...

(Well, kinda!)

And Thennnn...

Coming on May 4th:

And Cheer Up! At Least We're Not Giving You THIS:

"Thanks for Your Time, Fellow Babies," and... "Vootie!!!"

"I Hope There's No GUN in the House!"

2010-04-22T20:50:00.006-04:00

Scene One: Saturday, shortly after three a.m. and only a few minutes after Vickie Wickie received her phone call from the Foxster, as shown in our previous post. Vickie calls Milo Fenderbender at his home.

Vickie: Milo?

Milo (sounding groggy): Of course. Why are you calling at this time of... (hopefully, after a pause) Not feeling... lonely, are you?

Vickie: Get real. (brief pause) Are you alone?

Milo: Of course I'm... I mean, why do you ask?

Vickie: Is Tara with you, by any chance?

Milo: No! Why?

Vickie: I just got a pathetic call from the equally-pathetic Foxster. Tara never went home after work. (brief pause) Were you at Kewl Beanz! tonight?

Milo: For a bit, yeah. (pause) She was still there when I left. No idea what's going on, though, sorry.

Vickie: I tried to convince him to rifle her contacts on her cell phone... which the little bimbo left at the bar. I almost feel sorry for whoever she did end up with when he finds them!

Milo (after a long pause): Ohhhhh, boy. I hope he doesn't show up here.

Vickie: Why would he show up at your place? And does he even know where you live?

Milo: No, but he could find out easily enough. (pause) If he took your advice, I'm betting he saw my name on her contacts list.

Vickie: Really.

Milo: Yeah. I got hold of her private number -- via my usual connections, you know -- and called her yesterday afternoon! But when I called, she was a bit... frosty. (imitating Tara's voice mockingly) "Nothing personal, Milo, but if ever you want to call me again, I'd appreciate it if you reach me on the bar phone... or call the Simpson/Lynch Studios number."

Vickie: Well, whenever she does get her trampy little ass home, I hope there's no gun in the house! Ol' Foxy was really pissed off! (pause) Go back to bed, Milo. (Vickie disconnects.)

* * * * *

Scene Two: "The Old Fenneman Estate," current home of the Foxster and his girlfriend, Tara King. It is approximately 4:30 that same morning.

Tara enters the house through the living room door. A small light is suddenly turned on by the Foxster, who has been sitting in the dark since shortly after waking up from a nightmare. He is holding a half-empty glass of milk, Tara notices.

Foxster (calmly): Where have you been?

Tara (surprised): Ohmigods, David! You almost scared me to death!

Foxster: We're even, then. I tried calling you, first...

Tara: Sorry. I don't have my cell phone. I don't know where I left it...

Foxster (continuing): I called Kewl Beanz!, and then I actually went there. I called Bella. I called Vickie.

Tara: Vickie? (sarcastically) Oh, nice.

Foxster: Don't you dare try to twist this around! (pause) I even called the hospital!

Tara: You called the... (pause) Why?

Foxster (standing): I had visions of you being in a horrible accident in the BMW I bought for you only last week! (pause) Where have you been?

Tara remains silent as the Foxster enters the kitchen and turns on the light. He uncaps his new bottle of Valium -- as prescribed by Dr. Jane Kildeer -- and takes two, washing them down with the glass of milk which he still holds. Finally, Tara speaks.

Tara: I... I had someplace to go.

Foxster (with an edge in his voice): No kidding, Tara! You're purposely being evasive, and I won't play that game. Where the hell were you?

Tara: Please, David, trust me on this one. I can't tell you. You have to respect that, okay?

Foxster (shouting, as he angrily throws the empty glass of milk into the sink, where it shatters): Are you kidding?!? "Trust" and "respect" aren't even in my vocabulary right now! (pause) You were with... him... weren't you?

Tara (nervously): "Him?" (pause) Wh-who do you mean?

Foxster: You know damned well who I mean! Milo!

Tara: Milo? Milo?!?

Foxster: Who else?

Tara: What the hell makes you think I was with Milo?

The Foxster removes Tara's cell phone from the pocket of his pajama shirt and holds it up, somewhat dramatically.

Foxster : You left this at the bar. (pause) And against my better judgment... I checked your contacts list.

Tara (exploding): You did what?!? I don't believe this! Where the hell did you get an idea like that? (The Foxster says nothing, not wanting to mention Vickie again.) How dare you?!?

Foxster (re-entering the living room): Well, excuse me for being worried! And maybe I'll apologize... after I hear your explanation!

Tara: You can shove your "explanation," Foxster! (brief pause) Gimme that cell phone! I am so outta here!

Foxster: I think I'll keep it... since I'm paying for it!

Tara: Fine! You can have your stupid cell phone! Maybe you can give it to the next set of pretty legs you fall for!

Foxster: Fine! Maybe I will!

Tara: And don't worry, I'll have the BMW delivered to you after I get... wherever I'm going!

Without another word, Tara exits, slamming the door behind her and departing for... parts unknown.

Trembling with rage, the Foxster attempts to control his breathing. He turns on his rare, unrestored Philco radio as he passes it on his way back to the kitchen, letting it warm up as he gets himself another glass of milk to wash down another Valium.

The Foxster returns after taking his third tranquilizer. WPLJ-AM, the local Pleasantview oldies station, is playing "Love Hurts" by Roy Orbison. The Foxster is all-too-briefly soothed by Orbison's voice... until he recognizes the song, whereupon he screams an unintelligible exclamation of anguish and viciously kicks the radio over onto its side. Tubes shatter and sparks fly as the valuable antique breathes its last.

The radio is silent now... as is the Foxster. After several minutes of listening to the pounding in his chest, he walks back into the kitchen, empties his bottle of Valium into his hand, and stands at the sink, staring at them...

* * * * *

To Be ~~Continued~~ Concluded!

Next: Things get even WORSE in the final chapter!!! We DARE you to read "VICKIE, VICTORIOUS!!!"

WHERE the HELL is TARA?!?

2010-04-20T11:30:00.011-04:00

Scene One: Saturday morning, approximately three a.m., less than twenty-four hours after the events of our previous post. The Foxster stands in the closed and darkened lounge area of Kewl Beanz!, alone.

The Foxster calls Bella Vergara, the assistant manager of Kewl Beanz!, from the bar phone.

Bella: Hello? Who is this? (pauses and checks her caller ID, reading "Kewl Beanz.") Tara?

Foxster: No, Bella... It's the Foxster. I'm terribly sorry to call at this ungodly hour, but...

Bella (interrupting): Is Tara all right?

Foxster: Uhhh... That's why I'm calling you. She never came home last night... I mean, this morning... after work! I tried calling her first, of course, several times... but she doesn't have her phone with her.

Bella: She left it at the bar...

Foxster: I know. I found it when I came here. (pause) So, you don't know where she is, either?

Bella: No, I'm sorry. (pause) She left in a big hurry, right before closing. She didn't tell me anything.

Foxster: Damnit! (pause) Okay, Bella, thanks anyway. And I'm so sorry I woke you!

Bella: It's all right. Good luck, and... Let me know when you find out anything?

Foxster: Of course. Goodnight. (Foxster disconnects.)

The Foxster calls Vickie Wickie.

Vickie (groggy, but angry): Who the [expletive deleted] is this?!?

Foxster: Vickie, this is the Foxster!

Vickie: Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't even check...

Foxster (interrupting): Forget it, it's okay. (brief pause) Do you know where Tara is?

Vickie: Tara? Uhhh... Don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Foxster, but... Why would I?

Foxster (after a pause): Oh, hell... I don't know. (pause) I guess I'm just grasping at straws. She didn't come home after work, and I'm frantic.

Vickie: Maybe she's visiting Gretchen? I know it's late, but...

Foxster: No. In fact, I was visiting with Gretchen and the Skipster until almost two a.m.! I was home for a bit, and when she didn't show, I came here, and called Bella, and then... I called you.

Vickie: Doesn't Tara answer her phone?

Foxster: She doesn't have her phone. She left the bar in a rush, according to Bella, and didn't take it. In fact, I have it here.

Vickie: You could... (long pause) You could always check her contacts or messages, or...?

Foxster: Oh, I couldn't do that! That would be... an invasion of privacy, to say the least.

Vickie: Mr. Foxster... David... You know damned well that Tara and I don't exactly belong to each other's fan clubs... although even I've noticed she's seemed kind of distracted lately, and... (pause) Anyway, I know how important she is to you. And you're obviously worried sick. At this point, anything that might give you peace of mind is a good thing! (pause) You should really check her phone.

Foxster: I dunno... (pause) Anyway, I'm really sorry I woke you for nothing.

Vickie: "Nothing?" Don't be silly. You can call me any time. (pause) Any time. You're not only my boss, but... well... We are friends, aren't we?

Foxster: Yeah... Of course. (The Foxster tries to lighten the mood.) So stop calling me "Mister Foxster."

Vickie: Okay... Foxster. Good luck finding Tara... whether or not you do check her phone. And any time you want someone to talk to... I'll be there for you.

Foxster: Thanks, Vickie. Get some sleep, okay?

Vickie: Goodnight, Foxster. (The Foxster disconnects.) Friggin' idiot.

The Foxster stands quietly in the bar area for several minutes, lost in his thoughts. Finally, he picks up Tara's phone, and does some "investigating." He sees a name on the contacts list, and scowls.

Foxster: Son of a bitch...!

* * * * *

Scene Two: The bedroom in the home of the Foxster, sometime after four a.m. The Foxster has finally gotten to sleep, but only after calling Pleasantview Community Hospital's ER.

Next: Things get worse! Don't miss "I Hope There's No GUN in the House!"