Date: Mon, 1 Jul 1996 17:50:30 -0700 From: erica and Bianca Hall There are novel challenges, song challenges, show's end challenges, etc. Jamie has issued a "Spam FKFIC-L with Positive Fiction" Order (note: this is not a challenge but something that we *must do* or face The Cyberdeity's wrath). So as contrary as it is to my nature, here this is - as residue from junior high Readers' Theater days. As with Forever Dracula, much... some of the original text is intact. Some of Screed's gibberish comes from Michael Shephard's _Clockwork Orange_, Nasdat glossary site and the rest from other places. Credits go to the listmembers, many of whom will recognize the gags they invented, perpetuated, in which they rolled around and with which they got themselves absolutely inebriated... Special thanks to Bonnela Pardoe for being utterly deranged (but crazy in a cute, loveable way...) and allowing us to draw this up from an idea of hers. As i've told her, this is all her fault. You may direct any consequent medical claims to Ms. Pardoe. In No Way Whatsoever Are Any Of The Individuals Depicted Based On Persons Presently Living or Dead And If They Do Resemble Anyone Or Any Name That Has Been Tossed About Hundreds Of Times In Ether Elsewhere and When, It Is Purely Coincidental. And in no way have announcements of late interfered with this parody which was not, at the time, 3/4ths finished and in which there weren't snappy rhymes whose humourous achievements didn't depend upon certain proper names which weren't uncorrupted before the announcements of late. And i am not bitter because of it. Once again, the following is a parody and not meant maliciously or slanderously. James Parriott's Peter Pan Or The VampBoy Who Would Not Give Up All children, save one, grows up. No, not that one. The other one. Right, him. TRACY: Yes... I recall him. Though I'm grown up now. Last I saw him he was a biker in leather, promising to be forever young. His eyes were yellow, and very nice to look into... and... well... what can you say about the vampire who taught you to fight for what you believe in? Ohhh... please don't tell the others that I spoke of that, they're not like you and me... Oh, I'm Tracy... And you - you look like the kind of fans who know how it feels to be threatened, lied to, ignored, and disrespected. So if I tell his story... please... look at it as I do know, through the eyes of someone who has triumphed. Promise? LISTMEMBERS: We promise. TRACY: Then come closer, listmembers, and let me recall the most wonderful bovine of all... CAST: Javier Vachon AN ACTOR WHO IS NOT THE LEAD OF FK: the play AN ACTRESS WHO IS NOT HIS MAYBE LOVE INTEREST ON FK: by Sir James Barrie AN ACTOR WHO DOES NOT PORTRAY HIS SOMETIME NEMESIS: with excerpts from Richard Lester's Broadway version AN ACTRESS WHO DOES NOT PLAY HIS CAREER ASSOCIATE: and songs by Mark Charlap AN ACTOR WHO DOES NOT ACT INTERESTED IN THE LEAD'S NON-ASSOCIATE: and Carolyn Leigh AN ACTOR WHO DOES NOT PLAY THE LEAD'S BOSS: adapted by Michael Leigh BIANCA: and adapted again by erica BONNIE PARDOE: from an idea by me. TRACY: So with a breath of magic and a sprinkle of fairy dust , fly back with me now. ****************** Toronto in Christmastime December twenty-second, Nineteen hundred and ninety-five Act 1 The Nursery MOTHER COHEN: I'm afraid your father thinks that Tracy is too old to stay in the nursery. TRACY: (a 13-year-old, taffy-haired, pastel-clad girl) But Muh-therrrrrrr, I don't want to leave the nursery! NICK: (7-year-old golden boy, clutching a pink teddy cow) Besides, who would tell us fairy tales? LACROIX: (at 11, wears a top hat and carries a cane) Ya, I like the ones about the candy striper who aspires to be a cop. NICK: And who goes undercover at an escort agency. I like stories about those nice ladies. MOTHER COHEN: (Catching Nick fast by the ear, fully intending to take him to the woodshed during the intermission) Father feels that it's time for Wendy to grow up. TRACY: But Muh-THERRRRR (Perry the dog nurse barks, signifying bedtime) NICK: Just a little more time, please? LACROIX: (arms folded, chin set, mouth pouty, loins firm in a tho-...) I won't go to sleep. I won't! I don't even have an apartment! And the Raven has no comfy chairs. NICK: What about that La-Z-Boy I sent you last Christmas? LACROIX: So I forgot to tell you that Janette sold me the club for a song and a La-Z-Boy. NICK: (tongue out) Buttface. LACROIX: ~Crossed sticks and blessed stones may break my concentration but even fire-engulfed stakes can't hurt meeeee~... MOTHER COHEN: (grabbing LaCroix by the nose) Be still before Father hears and... (Poppa Reese enters. This is a modern family and Mom decided to keep her name.) FATHER REESE: A little less noise there, a little less noise. Now off to bed with you all. And put on some Fruit of the Loom boxers like a normal boy, Lucien. (all groan, especially over-medicated Cousins) LACROIX: (nasally until Cohen releases both boys) Okaaay. Can Perry stay in? (Perry barks, chews on Reese's leg) NICK: Please Father? I promise I'll never pick up another woman again, no matter how nice they are... FATHER REESE: Dear, is it really wise to have a dog for a nurse? And a carouche at that? What if he eats the children? MOTHER COHEN: (trying desparately to conceal the hope in her voice and begging expectation in her eyes) Into bed, you two. And let Perry get as close as he wants. (kids feign sleep) FATHER REESE: I get the feeling he looks on them as fledglings. (kids bark and giggle) FATHER REESE: Less noise! Well, at least they aren't mooing anymore... MOTHER COHEN: Perry must stay in. I saw a slacker at the window. FATHER REESE: On the third floor? A young man who has time to climb three stories from the outside should focus his energies at getting a job. MOTHER COHEN: Look - Perry grabbed this filmy thing from his back. (holds up a leather jacket, for which a happy heifer in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin was sacrificed) FATHER REESE: Well, I'm not surprised. I hear these Gen X-ers don't shower like they should... MOTHER COHEN: No, I think it's his shadow. FATHER REESE: Leave the cooking sherry alone, Amanda. MOTHER COHEN: It was Ribena! (Cohen whomps him upside the head and then quickly walks out. She was forced to emote.) FATHER REESE: (from the floor) Perry... come... on, boy... Let's go... (dragging noise precedes the closing of the door) (room falls dark, save a tiny, pinpoint light against the nursery wall) LACROIX: (whispers) Tracy, can anything hurt us when the nightlight's lit? TRACY: No, Lucien. They're the eyes a mother leaves behind to guard her children when they dream. I'm sure that Mom would have told you herself if that tension-laden disagreement on parental authority and indulgences hadn't drove her out so soon. NICK: (Tracy's words having gone way over his head) Where do dreams come from? TRACY: Well, Freud believes they're suppressed desires. That's fine for those raised in Edwardian trappings but nowadays, I'd surmise that they're purely reactionary, reflective mainly on one's experiences, worries, hopes, and the like. But quite often they're merely an influx of images, just the brain sorting through information. (she blinks, then shakes her head as though clearing it) Did you say something, Nick, honey? I wasn't listening. NICK: (eyes wide, all bunny-scared) Nothing... Uh, sing us a lullaby, please Tracy. Like, right now. TRACY: (smoothing her nightie) Sure, precious! (clears throat and sings to the tune "Tender Shepherd") Tender patty, moist lean patty, let me eat you with swiss cheese. Cow in the meadow, piggy on my plate, boys in the nursery, fast asleep. Hey, let's eeeeeat... NICK and LACROIX: (scrambling for the door) Augh!! No more lullabies!! No more lullabiiiiiiiiieeeeees!!!! Moooooooooooom!!! TRACY: (searches for her bib) Oo, did someone moo? NICK and LACROIX: (scrambling towards the computer screen) Augh!! You typed our lines wrong!! Fix it, FIX IIIIIIT!! (~rewind scene~) NICK and LACROIX: (scrambling towards the door) Augh!! Maaaaaahhhhmmm!! (fade out - the screams and the scene) **************** Act 2 The Nursey and Just Outside VACHON: Ursa Baby Bell Gouda? Are you there? URS: <~cow bell~> VACHON: Where did they put my leather jacket? I can't go out with the guys unless I look cool. URS: <~cow bell~> VACHON: Here it is. But now how will I get it back on? (rubs it against his side) Oh, it won't stick, Urs! Oh! TRACY: (rising from the bed with a pink, ruffle-edged sleep mask covering her eyes) Hm? Who's that? Why are you crying? VACHON: (quickly wiping his eyes, assuming an all-purpose adolescent scowl) I'm not, but if I were, it would be because I can't get my jacket back on. TRACY: Well, I'd be happy to help if I could find you... VACHON: (scowl absently dropping off his face in disbelief) Try taking off the mask. (Tracy pulls it off, revealing brown, almond oil-daubed cotton balls underneath) VACHON: Augh!! (Tracy quickly removes the cotton and flicks on the light, revealing a face smeared with avocado paste) VACHON: AUGH!! (Nick and LaCroix wake up) NICK and LACROIX: Huh? Wha? (they see Tracy) YAH!! TRACY: Oh, you guys... (pulls off her muffin bed-cap to reveal a head full of curlers and wax paper) VACHON, NICK, and LACROIX: (in unison) AAAAHHH!!! (they run around, arms waving about in the air) TRACY: (exasperated, she huffs off to the bathroom to wash off her beauty treatment) (calls from off-stage) Don't you dare start the kiss exchange without me! (hurries back, jumps back into the bed, arranges her nightie across the sheet) Okay. I said 'OKAY'! I'm ready! VACHON: (stops running as Nick and LaCroix clomp to the floor, asleep) Ahem, (repeating his line) I can't get it back on. (waves the jacket before him) TRACY: (rising gracefully from her bed) It must be sewn on... VACHON: Augh! TRACY: I mean, 'put on', '*PUT* on'! Sorry. (slips the sleeves onto each of his arms) VACHON: Oh, thank you. I haven't changed my clothes in so long... I'd forgotten how to dress... Say, what's your name? TRACY: (zips up the jacket) Tracy Vetter Cohen-Reese. What's yours? VACHON: Javier Vachon... Ouch! TRACY: Sorry, got the zipper caught in your chest hair. Hey, it's better than a needle in your foot. Thank me for not sewing on a shadow... There. VACHON: (twirls) Oh, look! It's on! Oh, the attractiveness of me! TRACY: How conceited. Not even a thanks. VACHON: Here. (holds something out) A kiss. TRACY: Oh, a button. Do you know how sick I am of these? Well, I'll wear it on this thread. On this weak, easily-breakable symbol of our love. VACHON: (beams) Cool. TRACY: (sighing) So how old are you? (Vachon opens his mouth) TRACY: Uh, on second thought, just teach us how to fly and take us to TV TV Land. (kicks her brothers awake) Okay, I'm ready for the sprinkle of fairy dust! VACHON: Actually, first I must douse you all with Reconstructionist Labourer 1866 (pours out a bottle of blood over their heads) Now think lovely thoughts. TRACY: I can't do that. I look like Carrie. LACROIX: Oo, that was a good movie. Little Brian De Palma took instruction well... NICK: (splashing in the puddle) And Amy Irving was foxy... (Nick and LaCroix start to hover) NICK and LACROIX: Look, we're flying!! TRACY: (earth-bound, still complaining) But they killed John Travolta. I hated "Carrie". VACHON: (gritting teeth) No, *happy thoughts*. Think *harder*! TRACY: I mean, *I* could have played Amy Irving's part. Or even Sissy Spacek. I finished the John Powers course. I took mail order drama classes. I don't see why *I* couldn't be in a movie. I could do as good a job... VACHON: Nevermind. (he grabs Tracy and flies out the window with Nick, LaCroix, and Urs following) Follow me! NICK: Second star to the right? VACHON: No, third traffic light to the left. The studios of TV TV land aren't that far. And away we goooo! NICK: We're flying! LACROIX: Flying! TRACY: Don't mess up my hair! Nick, quit looking under my dress! LaCroix, keep your clothes on...! (fades) (continued) Cousins erica and Bianca Hall m/~vaimpir/ All I have is what I might have been - Gavin Friday Yet each man kills the thing he loves... - Oscar Wilde (thanks Kimmy :) How can you trust someone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? - BGW Act 3 Aboard the ship U.S.A. Caddie bobbing in the bay of TV TV Land. The ominous Jolly Dom (a grimacing white skull and crossantennas against black background) flaps in the breeze. TV EXECUTIVES AND ASSORTED BAD GUYS: (their neckties or pantyhose tied about their heads a la Animaniacs do "Heart of Darkness", chanting and hopping about) We're lemmings in Armani... Ugh! And each a murderous slimer... Ooh! We massacre shows, especially good ones, And bring them to Captain Hardtorhymer! CAPTAIN DOM HARDTORHYMER: Ah, Screed, the home of Pan. (pauses) No, wait, home of Spam? SCREED: (dressed in a mauve blazer/skirt two-piece and brown wig which is an old inside joke... ) You mean galkukreeche 'ome of Vachon, oi syzygy think. HARDTORHYMER: Now, wait, give me that script. What page are we on, 5? (pulls packet from Screed's pants and flips through it) Well, no matter, I can screw up any show. (tosses script) Ah, Screed (inhales deeply), I love the smell of evil in the morning. SCREED: (scratching crabby, 3-minute beard) That's Vachon's coprophagy camp you smell, oi think yrmmkulinkkitink. HARDTORHYMER: Is it? Well, he shouldn't be hard to find, then. So, the home of Vachon. 'Twas he who lopped off my hand and left me this! (holds up hook) SCREED: (tugging at gold ring in his ear) Yet Oi've 'eard you skazat that your 'ook were what's worth ten mojopotato 'ands. (flipping of backdrop begins as the U.S.A. Caddie is transported to different channels. Think Animaniacs and Dan Anchorman.) HARDTORHYMER: You forgot! Vachon took off my right hand! How am I suposed to work the remote control, now?! And to feed it to that infernal Crocodile Gatorvitz! THE CROCK GATORVITZ: (secretly circling the U.S.A. Caddie) Glub, glub. (setting change: Hardtorhymer and Screed stand on a California shore. David Hasslehoff and Pamela Anderson Lee jog by, appendages bouncing in time) HARDTORHYMER: She liked me so much - and who can blame her? - that she follows me hoping for another bite and a commanding seat atop another entertainment corporation. (setting change: Screed and Hardtorhymer are folded in a foggy, clear-plastic box with Yulani, the That's Incredible! yoga master) SCREED: (muffled) It's sortove a talithacumi compleemint. (setting change: Hardtorhymer and Screed sit in Joan Lunden's lap and begin to perspire under the Good Morning America faux-living room lights) HARDTORHYMER: (scratching where Joan's clip-on mic pokes his delicate skin) At least she consumed the remote control. (setting change: Tuba section in The Met's orchestra pit with Hugh Downs primping for the PBS cameras in the background) SCREED: So the hakunamatata crock flips constantly, givin' you the meeeerest rimskykorsakov edge... HARDTORHYMER: Screed... (setting change: Laying beneath a '67 Chevy at the Saturday Night Truck-O-Rama) SCREED: Just the toiniest levermst2000k smudge... (setting change: The two are snuggled into Morticia's rattan chair, the seat of which promptly falls out) HARDTORHYMER: (picking straws from his pants) Screed... (setting change: On line with the Psychic Friends Network...) SCREED: My personal psychic knew exactly what to say! I'd always dreamed about starting my own business and meeting the rat of my dreams... (Hardtorhymer smacks him) SCREED: Urm, just the malenkiest tinkle o' clydebruckman'sbobolidinner... (setting change: Sitting atop a compost heap, some lovely flora-themed mittens and scarves knitted from recycled bottle caps keeping their hands warm in the New England chill...) HARDTORHYMER: A warning, Screed! The Vitz flips! Hide me! No more Martha Stewart! SCREED: Shoo, Crock, shoo! And you'd bet'ah skorry belch to the roight aloysiussnuffleupagus channel... (original Caddy setting in TV TV Bay returns. Gatorvitz the Crock glides away.) SCREED: All clear, Cap'n. HARDTORHYMER: (uncovering eyes) Good. Now to deal with Vachon! Inspire me, dogs! SCREED: What erniebertgrovercookieandcountvoncount tempo, Cap'n? HARDTORHYMER: ... a tango... AND STOP THAT! SCREED: Yes, sir. (pulls out conducting stick, music stand, sheet music, and clothes pins from his pants) Ahem, Dogs! (taps stand for attention) And - TV EXECS + BAD GUYS: La-la, la, la, la, la-la, la, la... HARDTORHYMER: (whips out a 7-ft noble fir, it being Christmas and all) We'll take this tree quite large and trim each branch in-between with candycane-shapedbloodsample-filledvialslacedwithpoison 'til we've covered the piney green. We'll plant it near the Raven just where the vamps are sure to come and being greedy they won't care to question such a plum. TV EXECS/BADS: The vamps have no self-control and no Nat to show them their stupidity... won't think it dangerous to drink from so beautifully-decorated a tree. HARDTORHYMER: And soooooo, before a winking of an eye..., TV EXECS/BADS: ...the vamps will drink the poison blood and one... by one... HARDTORHYMER: They'll diiiiiieeeeeee and we'll be able to fill the timeslot with Campus Cops! TV EXECS/BADS: Die-die, die, die, die, Cancelly-cancel, cancel, cancel, cancelled, Campus Cops, ole! ****************** Act 4 same general area, just on land Party of good guys tromp through vegetation. A GENTLEMAN WHO IS NOT THE EXECUTIVE STORY EDITOR: Protein shake - ugh! A GENTLEMAN WHO IS NOT A PRODUCER: Sunbed - oh! A GENTLEMAN WHO DID NOT CO-CREATE THE SHOW: Vitamins - ah! A GENTLELADY WHO IS NOT WARDROBE DIRECTOR: Medic! (please compare to the original lines: Lilly: Ugh. Wolf: Oh. Lilly: Wah. Foot: Injun. Hope the exclamations make sense now.) A GENTLEMAN WHO DOES NOT PHOTOGRAPH THE SHOW: Tea - ugh! A GENTLEMAN WHO DOES NOT COMPOSE AND PERFORM THE SHOW'S MUSIC THAT WE SO ENJOY: French fries - oh! TWO GENTLEMEN WHO DO NOT MAKE UP A FAVOURITE WRITING TEAM: Making out innocuously - wah?! THE GENTLEMAN WHO IS NOT THE STUNT COORDINATOR: Medic! DOCTOR NAT, PATHOLOGIST WOMAN (tm Jerimi Paul): Halt! I've got a really funny feeling about this. GRACE: I'll go take a look ahead. (disappears into underbrush) DOCTOR NAT: Good. If it's what I think it is, we're going to need to prepare. GRACE: (back from scouting) We've got brown-nosers ahead. DOCTOR NAT: Well, that was quick. GRACE: Yeah, I must've walked through 20 different time periods but they're all in one set - that mini-staircase and faux stone wall. The budget cut really shows. DOCTOR NAT: Sad, really. Now we have to date everything by *Nick's* clothes. GRACE: I don't get it. The audience is not supposed to recognize the same set but they're supposed to accept Nick's Stay-Puff wedding suit? DOCTOR NAT: Uh, let's get back to finding a cure for these vampires. Now, I've got a list of healthly fruits, vegetables, and grains here. May I count on everyone's help in scouting about for them? (all nod, smile, or verbally articulate their assent) DOCTOR NAT: Wonderful. I'm very pleased. (Yes, this is a Wellness-Living Nat) Now, let's go cure 'em! FK CREW + GOOD GUY CHARACTERS: Gotta go cure 'em, gotta go, gotta cure 'em gotta gotta go cure 'em gotta go. Cure 'em! ****************** Act 5 Outside The Raven Treehouse, Nightclub, and Summertime Copacabana [The vamp buds, the immortal odd couple, Schanke and Janette, approach. The innocuous-looking Conifer of Doom - later to be whittled into the Shillelagh of Death (tm Deborah Menikoff + Dianne Therese DeSha) - sits center-stage] SLIGHTLY SCHANKE: Janette, look at the Christmas tree! I thought that Vachon would never get one! JANETTE DE TOOTLES: Lovely. Now let's go inside. Everyone else is probably already there. I can now make an entrance. SLIGHTLY SCHANKE: But I want to sit here and stare at the lights. JANETTE DE TOOTLES: Oh, you have no sense of... Who's that circling overhead? SCHANKE: I don't know but he or she keeps moaning. TRACY: Poor Tracy. Poor Tracy. JANETTE: Do we know any vampires named Tracy? Are there even any vampires named Tracy? It's a terribly square name for a vampire. And look what it's wearing! I'd never wear something like that. *You'd* never wear something like that. Your retro polyester is in, after all. That must be a bird. SCHANKE: Hi Urs! URS: <~cow bell~> SCHANKE: You have a message from Vachon? URS: <~innocent-sounding cow bell soaked with resentment and jealousy beneath its pleasantly tinkling surface~> SCHANKE: He wants us to shoot the Tracy? JANETTE: Sounds good to me. SCHANKE: Righto. Come on, partner. JANETTE: Here's a rock. Whoever hits it first gets a round, compliments of the other. TRACY: Yowch! JANETTE: Perfect shot! Drinks on you, mon amour. (whistling dive bombing sound) SCHANKE: You dropped her on the tree! Oh, Janette! JANETTE: Then it's a good thing I killed her. Those needles can really itch. SCHANKE: But you broke all of the decorations... Janette... this is no bird. I think it must be a mortal. JANETTE: A mortal? Oh, *that* explains the outfit. VACHON: (landing) What have you done? SCHANKE: She's killed the Tracybird? VACHON: You've killed one of us characters? That's an action only low enough for TPTB! But she will be avenged! (Tracy, having landed on her face, rolls over and starts scratching.) JAN/SCH: She's alive! VACHON: Ah! My kiss protected her from the stone. TRACY: (groans) But now I think I have a button mold forever branded into my chest... JANETTE: We didn't mean to kill her, Vachon. Not that I'd take orders, from you anyway, you understand. But fashion sense like that should not be entered into the gene pool. SCHANKE: And Urs told us to... URS: <~a cow bell "Uh oh"~> VACHON: Urs! URS: <~cow bell~> VACHON: TV privileges are suspended for a week and no more dipping into the special stock! And no trying to talk me out of it next time I'm drunk! URS: <~a resigned, yet bitter and secretly vengeful, plotting cow bell~> VACHON: Now, vamps, clear out one of the Raven's back rooms for your new mother. ALL VAMPS: We have a chew toy! At last we have... VACHON: Mother! She's our new mother! Hands off! (Vamps groan and wander off, having lost interest. Vachon is left to lift... drag... prod... ram a board under Tracy's body and HEAVE and then roll her into the treehouse.) (continued) Cousins erica and Bianca Hall m/~vaimpir/ All I have is what I might have been - Gavin Friday Yet each man kills the thing he loves... - Oscar Wilde (thanks Kimmy :) How can you trust someone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? - BGW Act 6 Inside the Raven Treehouse, Deli, and Soda Shop VACHON: Are you ready for your lessons? VAMPS: Yes, Master. VACHON: Then repeat after me: VACHON and ALL: I can't grow up I cannot ingest food But I will live forever And from time to time will brood. If being mortal means it would be Impossible to see the end o'eternity Then I can't grow up, cannot grow up I'll never grow up... not me. VACHON: I can't grow up LACROIX: I can't get sick and die NICK: Or attend the division barbecue On a sunny 4th July VACHON: And if, to fit in with the mob, I must accept responsibility and get a job Then I'll never grow up, never grow up, I'll never grow up ALL: Not me! ****************** Act 7 In a remote TV TV Land bay cavern, alongside the U.S.A. Caddie. The dread Cap'n and his merry wo/men have Dr. Nat in their evil grasp. Vachon and Tracy, preparing for rescue, watch from behind some rock outcropping thingys) TV EXECS & ASSORTED BAD GUYS: Yo ho, yo ho, a televisionexecutive's life for me! We pillage, we plunder, we pilfer, sack shows Suck up, me hardies, yo ho! If we do what we're told, then the bank account grows Suck up, me hardies, yo ho! HARDOTRHYMER: Drop the labcoat on the rock, be sure to tie her down And when the tide comes in, she certainly will drown. SCREED: M'sorry, Doc, but this is wot you geht for crowling wit a tomahawk on a poirate ship. NAT: That wasn't a tomahawk, it was a scalpel! One of your pirates had gangrene - I was trying to save his life! Oh, give me a break... SCREED: (to Dread Pira... Bad Guy Don Constantine) Eh, you got the ganglee, dangly, Ganges, wot she said...? CONSTANTINE: Oh, sure I've got this trick leg (pokes his left calf, swollen to the size of a baby harp seal) but it's never given me much trouble. I mean, I'm a dreaded pira... A bad guy! Raaaawwrrr! (thumps chest) TV EXECS/BADS: (rowsing Neanderthal response) Ggggrrrooooaaar! VACHON: (admiring) How brave. TRACY: What do you mean? It could get infected! Just because you're scared of the doctor's office doesn't mean you let something like that go untre- VACHON: I meant Doctor Nat. What a humanitarian! SCREED: So you see, my oomny Doctor, you must be 'anded over to the Cap'n. TRACY: Oh, can't you do something, Vachon? VACHON: (imitating TV exec/bad guy) Cap'n Hardotrhymer! Cap'n Hardotrhymer! HARDTORHYMER: Do as I've ordered, Screed. I'll see who calls. (exeunt) VACHON: (in Hardtorhymer's voice) Screed! SCREED: Oi! VACHON: Release her! SCREED: Oi, oi, Cap'n! VACHON: Good, Screed. (in his own voice) This way, Doctor Nat! HARDTORHYMER:(returning) I can't find the voice... Where's the labcoat, Screed? SCREED: Oi follo'd ohdahs, Cap'n. HARDTORHYMER: The tide come and gone so soon? SCREED: Oi let 'er go. HARDTORHYMER: What?! (brandishes hook) SCREED: Yoh voice tahld me to! HARDTORHYMER: Ah ha! No doubt the same voice that called me aside... Vachon! Drat that brat! Screed, I must think. SCREED: Wot tempo, Cap'n? HARDTORHYMER: A tarantella... Methinks I see a spark, a gleam, A something truly dreadful With which I may further corrupt Our sorry airing schedule. Kidnap Tracy, seize the vamps, And you'll have me to thank For when the time is right, The whole show walk the plank! TV EXECS/BADS: Oh, when was such a bloody plot Concocted without talking? To cancel Forever Knight And stick Tracy in "Silk Stalkings"! HARDTORHYMER: Huzzah! EXECS/BADS: Huzzah! HARDTORHYMER: Huzzah! EXECS/BADS: Huzzah! HARDTORHYMER: Huzzah! EXECS/BADS: Huzzah! HARDTORHYMER: Huzzah! To the Caddy! EXECS/BADS: To the Caddy! HARDTORHYMER: To the Caddy! EXECS/BADS: To the Caddy! HARDTORHYMER: To the Caddy! EXECS/BADS: To the Caddy! HARDTORHYMER: To the Caddy! ****************** Act 8 The Raven Treehouse, Petrol Station, and Full Automotive Service Center VAMPS AND FK CREW/GOOD GUYS: (one half of our chorus is less enthusiastic than the other) Gotta go cure 'em, gotta go, gotta cure 'em Gotta gotta go cure 'em, gotta go... VACHON: (injects, in time) Thank you! Thank you, Doctor Nat for the entertainment, the pow-wow, the autopsy demonstration but I think it's about time we all went to bed. Would you see to our vampire children, Tracy? TRACY: Yes, Hon. Sure, Snook 'ums. Happy to, Darling. LACROIX: Sing us a lullaby, Vachon. VACHON: Lullaby? TRACY: Yes, don't you know one? VACHON: I think so... Once upon a time and long ago I heard a lovely tune, soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall this song I used to hear: Duh, duh. Duh, duh. Ching, ching, ching, ching... DAH duh! Duh dah! THAT ACTOR WHO DOES NOT PLAY THE LEAD'S SOMETIME NEMESIS: "He was brought across..." TRACY: I was thinking of something more soothing, Dear! Our children may have trouble falling asleep to that! VACHON: (continues, unfazed) Long ago this song was played to me Now, it's just a distant melody. A show in the past I used to know Once upon a time and long ago. NICK: Tell us a bedtime story instead, please? TRACY: Once upon a time, there was a repentant vampire who joined a metropolitan police force... NICK: I think I know this story. TRACY: His tale, which had only just begun, garnered a loyal following of viewers but half-hearted promotional drives and lousy time slots brought cancellation... LACROIX: I don't think I like this story. It still should have been "Forever LaCroix". I'm sure my Cousins will wrestle any Knightie over this for me. TRACY: But there's a happy ending... LACROIX: "Forever LaCroix" got the go-ahead? That was quick. Hey, Sandra! Nyaahh... TRACY: with exposure in the media press and with the SOS campaign, we can bring it back... VACHON: You're wrong, so wrong about the industry! I felt like you, that it could be brought back, that fan support could make a difference, that publicity could do it, contributions, flyers, and sandwich-boards could do it, but it's all politics and money. I flew back to the set one night and another cape and spare fangs were parked in my dressing room, another show in my slot. Forget it, Tracy. The show's doomed to live in reruns on a cable station half of the listmembers don't even get. TRACY: But it doesn't have to stay like that. And we'll never know unless we try! If we believe in ourselves, something good's got to come out of it! Come on, guys! Look, I've got some high school cheers that I'm sure will raise everyone's spirits... (rustle of pom-poms) NAT: Why don't we just go to Sony, try to get a meeting with the heads, put off the rally until afterwards, hm, Trace? VACHON: You go ahead. SCHANKE: Can we go, too, Vachon? We can't just let it die without a fight. VACHON:(pretending not to care) Go on... (Vamps 'n good guys begin to shuffle out) NAT: And, Vachon? VACHON:(hopeful) Yes? NAT: Be sure to take your medicine. (leaves) TRACY:(making sure Nat is out of earshot) You don't have to take Nat's protein shakes, Vachon. I like you as a vampire. Here, I made you a treat. (whispers) I slipped into the coroner's office and got you this. (holds out bottle with big red bow around the neck) A vacationing Spanish national. I know how you miss hometown food. We'll be back soon. (blows kiss and exits) VACHON:(idly holding Tracy's "medicine", disappointed) Sure... ****************** Act 10 Later in the Raven Treehouse, Recording Studio, and Criminal Child Actor Hideout URS: (~urgent cow bell~) VACHON:(awakens) Huh? WHat's that, Urs? URS: (~explanatory cow bell~) VACHON: Television executives have Tracy? I'll save her! But first I must take the "medicine" she gave me. Boost up my strength! URS: (~extra-urgent cow bell~) VACHON: Poisoned? Nonsense. Why would anyone try to poison me? Especially Tracy? Janette had to install flood lights in the cellar before Tracy could go down there and use the bathroom. She doesn't have a dark and wicked bone in her body. She squatted behind the gooseberry bush for *two weeks* waiting for the electrician to co-... URS: (~interruptive cow bell~) VACHON:(not listening) Anyway, I kinda promised... Hey! URS: (~gulping cow bell~) VACHON: Well, now you've gone and drunk it all up! Urs... your light is growing faint. I told you peroxide was going to make your glowing hair fall out. URS: (~fatally weak cow bell~) VACHON: (bulb goes on) Hey! It *was* poisoned! You drank it to save my life? (to listmembers) Listen, everyone! Urs is dying! Well, *I* don't want her to die, a few of you Urchins don't want her to die, and the more of my universe that gets chipped away, the weaker I'll be when I go and fight Hardtorhymer! That's right, we're *all* going to fight this! URS: (~prescriptive cow bell~) VACHON: Urs says that if you all click your mice, she could get well! Won't you do that? If you believe in the show and believe in yourselves, everyone - click your mouse or your spacebar (or your innocuous shift key, if you're reading in Pine). (across the globe, clickety-clacks annoy household members, bother other users in the computer lab, threaten to get some readers suspended from work for trying to break the company machines) VACHON: Sure Eudora will keep beeping you, but this is for the show! This is for all of you! (rustle of pom-poms) Oh, hey, look at these... URS: (~stronger cow bell, wildly gonging for Vachon's attention now that he's found cheerleader paraphernalia~) LISTMEMBERS: We do believe in Forever Knight! We do believe in fan support! VACHON: (clapping and hopping with glee) Oh, thank you for believing! Come on, Urs! To the Caddy! (continued) Cousins erica and Bianca Hall All I have is what I might have been - Gavin Friday Yet each man kills the thing he loves... - Oscar Wilde (thanks Kimmy :) How can you trust someone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? - BGW Act 11 Onboard the U.S.A. Caddy conveniently nighttime DIVIA: Tumble up, you sun-lubbers, blood-lubbers, ad-libbers, and light dimmers! NICK: I take offense at that... HARDTORHYMER: Now then, you fictional scallywags, six of you walk the plank of permanent cancellation tonight but I have room for two maties aboard other, lower-quality shows. Which of you is it to be? Let's hear some measurements. Beef and cheese cake mask talent, you know. Come on, none of that frightened huddling about. What are each of your strengths and weakness? Those of you who are real - have you had any prior experience canning shows? Heck, you characters can get in this business, too. I have many new, young execs here with me today, gleaned from previous episodes of this very show! ALMA: But you see, sir, I don't think my agent... er, creator would like me to be an evil TV executive. Would your creator like you to be an evil TV executive, Miklos? MIKLOS: I don't think so. But I do like that neat dollar sign tie pin... No, I don't think so... But- HARDTORHYMER: Stow this gabbing! You, Character, you look as if you have a little bit of spunk in your bones... ALMA: Tracy's over there... HARDTORHYMER: Hush. I'm speaking. ALMA: When I was at summer theater camp I thought about it... What would I get to wear? DANIEL FROM FATHER FIGURE FLASHBACK, THE ANNOYING COCKNEY KID: Jammies. ROGER FROM ONLY THE LONELY, THE MURDEROUS DATE FROM HELL: Aye, Matey, business is a wonderful career. DANIEL: See the interiors of pricey restaurants! DIVIA: By-pass close friendships in your pursuit to get ahead! LISA FROM FATHER FIGURE, THE WRETCHED "LOVEABLE DELINQUENT WHO WILL BREAK YOUR HEART" KID: Serve your boss in the best brown-nosing way you can! ROGER: Throttle artistic endeavors for the sake of ratings! ALEXANDRA THE VAMPIRE DINGBAT (tm Lisa McDavid) BIMBO BARMAID (tm Marian Gibbons) - We're tailored scoundrels, DIVIA: Well-groomed knaves, FLEUR, THE ULTIMATE INCARNATION OF TELEPLAY EVIL: We're the successes of nepotism, DANIEL: And really bad eggs! ROGER: Yes, TV executiving is a wonderful career... and any decision is justifiable for the survival of the company, no matter how inane. DIVIA: Get ahead or the business is dead... DANIEL: Wait for viewership to grow... ALEXANDRA: Night after night... LISA: Money for promotion and support are better left to Spago power lunches and a tasteful Southwestern theme for the office. FLEUR: You'll learn to love smelling the seat of your captain's wool-blend trousers, 4 seasons ahead of the Paris shows. (Bad guys become less and less enthusiastic.) ALEXANDRA: Night after night... DANIEL: Sleeping in the cramped trunk of the Caddy... ALEXANDRA: Day after day... ROGER: Having to sing stupid songs every time he has to think. ALEXANDRA: Night... ALL TV EXECS/AWOL FK CHARA'S: after night, after night... LISA: (echoing the thoughts of all) This sucks. HARDTORHYMER: Do I hear anyone complaining, hmm? (picking teeth with hook, upon which are punctured the pink slips of employees and charred videotape strips of characters long gone) ALL: Nooo caaaptainnn... ROGER: The entertainment business is a wonderful life? MIKLOS: The entertainment business sounds like a horrible life. ALMA: Yeah, I'd rather waitress than be a low-level entertainment executive. HARDTORHYMER: Then waitress you shall! Even better - you'll walk the dashboard to your death! Vachon killed and the vamps, coroner's office staff, and show's crew to get the ax! I'm the most powerful PTB of all time! SCREED: 'Oo was Ovitz?! TV EXECS/AWOLS Nobody! SCREED: 'Oo was Eisner?! TVT EXECS/AWOLS: Nobody! HARDTORHYMER: Who's the craftiest craftsman in Hollywood?! TV EXECS/AWOLS: Cap'n Hardtorhymer! Cap'n Hardtorhymer! HARDTORHYMER: Who's the wisest profiteer in this wonderful 'hood?! TV EXECS/AWOLS: Cap'n Hardtorhymer! Cap'n Hardtorhymer! HARDTORHYMER: Captain of wealth, viewership, and what's hot! Quick to fire any who doesn't keep His show in the top spot! SCREED: (pom-poms and stretch knit mini-skirt) Top spot! Top spot! Nohmber one! HARDTORHYMER: Who's the busiest businessman in the pack?! TV EXECS/AWOLS: Cap'n Hardtorhymer! Cap'n Hardtorhymer! HARDTORHYMER: Who's irrefragable?! EXECS/AWOLS: You! HARDTORHYMER: Who's irreproachable?! EXECS/AWOLS: You! HARDTORHYMER: Whose power is quite intimidable?! EXECS/AWOLS: You! HARDTORHYMER: Who can re-write all the tricks in the primer?! EXECS/AWOLS: Tricks in the primer! HARDTORHYMER: Blimey, blimey, why Cap'n Hardtorhymer! EXECS/AWOLS: Hardtorhymer, Hardtorhymer! HARDTORHYMER: Hardtorhymer! EXECS/AWOLS: (sounding more and more unsure) Hardtorhymer, Hardtorhymer? HARDTORHYMER: (oblivious, having too much fun dancing about to the music of his own name) Hardtorhymer! EXECS/AWOLS: Hardtorhymer, Hardtorhymer? HARDTORHYMER: Hardtorhymer! EXECS/AWOLS: Yo ho...? LISA: (mutters) I still think this sucks. FLEUR: Yeah... HARDTORHYMER: (to prisoners) Now it's time to walk the dashboard! But first the cancellation papers. Fleur, fetch the papers! FLEUR: (less than enthusiastic, descending into the ship's cabin) Aye, Cap'n. (from off-computer-screen) Yiiiiii! I'm axed! VACHON: (off-computer-screen) Cock-a-doodle moooooo!! ALEXANDRA: What was that? HARDTORHYMER: I don't know. Screed! See what that doodle moo is. SCREED: Aye, Cap'n. (the reader follows Screed down) SCREED: (seeing Fleur, standing there, unhurt... much to erica's dismay) Wo- ? (Vachon appears and clamps his hand over Screed's mouth) VACHON: Hey, sailor. Tired of this gig? (Screed nods) VACHON: Great. Then play murdered. (winks and lets Screed go) SCREED: (winking back to Vachon) Yaaaaa!! Oi've been oobivatted!! HARDTORHYMER: (from above) What?? Speak American, you raggle-tag! SCREED: Keelled! Oi'm keelled!! VACHON: Cock-a-doodle mooo!! (meanwhile, back on deck) HARDTORHYMER: There's something strange, but I've a plan. Lose a Tracy instead of a company woman or man. Into the cabin the vamps and assorted good guys will go with dear Tracy to let us know what the doodle moo is up to. (laughs and shoves Tracy and Friends down into the cabin) VACHON: (from below) Cock-a-doodle moo! (whispers) I'll free everyone, Tracy. HARDTORHYMER: By Katzenberg, the Doodle Moo has killed them all! Well, now no one can save their sorry souls. VACHON: (off-computer-screen) There is one! HARDTORHYMER: Ridiculous! Who? VACHON: (appears) Vachon the avenger! (Screed, Fleur, Tracy and Friends burst up from the cabin. The Execs and AWOLS join them.) Hardtorhymer and Vachon fence with telephones and rolodexes, each contacting more and more powerful sponsors and Hollywood honchos. TRACY: The fight was vicious. Vachon talked to a friend at Hormel but Hardtorhymer cut Spam endorsement and made a deal with Foster Farms instead. Then the Captain called an impromptu board meeting of Tri-Star/Columbia bigwigs which Vachon parried by dinner with an old friend of his who'd ended up with Sony Japan. Then came the coup de grace! ALMA: Get him, Vachon! (Vachon furiously dials, almost pressing the wrong numbers in his hurry) SCHANKE: Ooo, careful! (Vachon waits, tapping his pencil on his rolodex. Finally the phone cradle is eased upwards from the other end of the line.) VACHON: Hello? Yes, Barry, hi, old man! (pause) Glad the fellows enjoyed the ribs... Yes, it can get messy, we took quite a chance. But, hey, the Denim and Diamond club was your idea, Bare. (Miklos begins to bite his nails.) VACHON: Oh, yeah? Country line dancing across Tokyo? Is that right? (Tracy shifts about nervously, trying to fight the call of nature) VACHON: They got a chance to look at the viewer polls and letters from fans? What? A follow-up survey? They did that on their own? (Janette brightens up.) VACHON: No. You're kidding. It's a go? (Nick claps his hands and hops about) VACHON: Hang on... (He covers the mouthpiece and addresses everyone, speaking loud enough for the Captain to hear from his own campaign corner on the Caddy.) VACHON: Apparently, Sony Japan would like to talk to their associates in Columbia/Tri-Star and USA. They've been gracious enough to agree to renewal and (bellows) FUTURE SEEEEEEASONSSSS!! JANETTE: Look, Vachon's driven Hardtorhymer to the metaphorical bow! (A flipping begins. Setting change: The entire cast suddenly finds themselves sitting atop the biggest mushroom in Smurf village.) HARDTORHYMER: (unsheaths sword) Insolent youth, prepare to meet thy doom! (Setting change: Tucked into Lynda Carter's red, white and blue iron bodice. *Not* in extreme close-up, either.) VACHON: Well, if I must die, Captain sir, may I know the channel we're on? HARDTORHYMER: Sorry, but I have no electronics. VACHON: Odd, I could have sworn I heard the flipping of a remote. HARDTORHYMER: (barrelled over by a skinny guy mumble-screaming about Aaron Burr and peanut butter who grabs one of Vachon's cows and streaks off) Why, so do I. VACHON: Or is it a crocodile, just below you? HARDTORHYMER: Why, yes, it may be... A crocodile?! VACHON: Bon voyage, Cap'n! (moves to push him over into Crock Gatorvitz's waiting jaws) HARDTORHYMER: Wait, wait! VACHON: (stops) Yes? HARDTORHYMER: Alright, you've convinced me. I'll take another look at those numbers... TRACY: You'll do better than that! You'll recognize that there's a significant group out there - intelligent, loyal viewers, regular viewers, *spending* viewers, and enough of them to keep this show going! HARDTORHYMER: Yes, alright, okay. You've beat me. VACHON: There is no win or lose, here. (Happy, end-of-tonight's-sitcom-ep music swells as Tracy hands Hardtorhymer a couple of Jamie's warm fuzzies) VACHON: There's only good TV and communication between production companies and the viewing public. TRACY: That's all we ask. No politics, no egos, just fun and good TV. HARDTORHYMER: Yes, I see what you're saying. (a warm fuzzy runs up one of his arms, tickling the crusty old captain) This isn't such a bad deal after all! ALL: Hooray!! (Setting change: all in Balki Bartokamus' suspendered shorts, doing the Meeposian Dance of Joy.) (continued...) Cousins erica and Bianca Hall m/~vaimpir/ All I have is what I might have been - Gavin Friday Yet each man kills the thing he loves... - Oscar Wilde (thanks Kimmy :) How can you trust someone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? - BGW Act 12 same ALL: Yay!! NICK: Vachon has saved us all! VACHON: With help from all of you. (points to screen) ALL: Yay!! TRACY: Vachon, please come home with us. ALL: Please, Vachon. VACHON: Would the actor who plays me get his prime parking space back? TRACY: Of course! VACHON: Would I have to move back into that church? TRACY: Um, I think so. VACHON: Would I have to help you solve a case every week? TRACY: Probably... I'll miss you terribly, Vachon. VACHON: I'll be around, don't worry. But I think I like this avenger stint. Roaming the backlots, righting wrongs, fighting corporate evil, saving costumed cartoon characters from falling props... TRACY: But you'll come home days? VACHON: Sure, yeah. I'll be around. Come on. Let's go put the Forever Knight sign back up outside the offices. (All clamber about the Caddy's driver's seat as Vachon steers the great turquoise auto, sparkling with fairy dandruff, its retractable roof extended behind them like a sail, out of the bay and up into the air, towards the studios.) VACHON: I know a place where dreams are filmed and plotline is never planned. TRACY: The show's not in any can, Thanks to friends in Japan... ALL: for all in TV TV Land. VACHON: It might have been the end of us If not for loyal fans. TRACY: But campaigns made things right. The execs saw the light... ALL: Live ever Forever Knight! (Players bow, curtains close, and parents shut off camcorders.) FIN P.S. i hate corn. i did this for the show. i did this for the show. Cousins erica and Bianca Hall m/~vaimpir/ All I have is what I might have been - Gavin Friday Yet each man kills the thing he loves... - Oscar Wilde (thanks Kimmy :) How can you trust someone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? - BGW