Season Finale

La Espalda Peluda

Escrito por Sr. Suave

Pepino Suave sits on a Durango park bench, his back to the adobe-walled Church of the Most Padrisimo. He shares the bench with Christina "La Espalda Peluda" Angelerez, an adopted member of the local Mennonite tribe, taken in years ago because her boyish frame and bristly back were considered a sign of good fortune. She fled the tribe days ago, as she found the Mennonites, "too sarcastic". Having squatted on the park bench for days, Mr. Suave finally hired her as trainer and groomer of Pepino's loyal ass, Newt. It was more an effort to re-claim his favorite park bench from the stinking, pitiful, wench, than an act of altruism. 
Newt lies in front of the park bench, grazing lazily in the grass and serving as an ottoman for Mr. Suave's gangly, outstreched legs.
La Espalda Peluda slouches next to our protagonist, sipping on a bottle, soaking in tequila and regret. She waves off clouds of flies, and quietly simmers over her lost promise as the hairy-backed,  boyish, token of prosperity for the "Yokels", the inbred Mennonite clan of the Durango high desert. She smells of urine, fermented agave nectar, with hints of  Love's Baby Soft, and plums.
Lost in her loss, she is deaf to Mr. Suave's chatty monologue:

I am Pepino Suave. Some years ago, after my mariachi career was scuttled by the greedy promoter "Papa D", I took my donkey Newt and his burden of a half ton of uncorrected spelling quizzes and standardized tests (I moonlighted as substitute elementary school teacher at a Durango public school), and set out to seek vengeance on my rivals: the bastard Papa D, scheming headmaster of a corrupt Chilean orphanage, and the idiotic Will Ferrel, a Gringo actor and thief. Yes, Papa D. stole my good name, and Ferrel my movie concept. Alas, my efforts to redeem my good name were in vain, as fate took care of that for me.

Sr. Suave pulls a newspaper off of his bench mate (E. Peluda used the periodical as a bedspread throughout the previous night. "Rent's cheap" she reasoned in a 7-Marlboro-packs-a-day-voice. Stevie Nicks-esque). He shows the  front page  to the camera,. The headline screams:

"Papa D Indicted"

 The lead explains Papa D's claim that he'd never imagined an orphanage run by Catholic priests and financed by teamsters could be corrupt. "Oh me, oh my", he is quoted as saying.

Mr. Suave continues:

Yes, this Papa D., he steals the identity of an innocent man, Tim Fournier, to try to ruin me. Who could believe that I have another life, a life as common and dull as this Mr. Fournier? And this wife of his, is it she that wears the pants?  Give me one day with that fellow, and I'll make a macho out of him. A few hours with a tequila bottle, a couple of girls, and a cock fight, and we'd put some hair on his back, no? (he nudges the miserable mennonite, she responds with a fragrant burp).
I digress. This Papa D cabron, is only half of  it.  I was also  searching for el idiota Ferrell.  I nearly wore out Newt on the hot streets of L.A. looking for the goofball. Again, luck beat me to it.

Mr. Suave pulls another newspaper off of the unshaven park troll and shows it to the camera. This headline shouts: 

"Will Ferrel Indicted"

The lead explains Mr. Ferrel's claim that he never imagined that a guy from Boise could dupe him into investing in a corrupt orphanage run by Catholic priests and financed by teamsters. "I must have been stoned out of my mind!"  said the actor.

The camera pans back from the headline to  a full view of the entire  park and church facade. Among the people under the steeple appear the forms of Small Breasted Raquelita, the Big Busted Former Linoleum Queen/Secretary, Raul the Handsomest Cowboy, A Few Lonely Cowboys, Madonna, President Obama,  a Dozen Reporters, Fournier, 17 Secret Service Agents, an Average Breasted Woman,  Los Tres Primos: Tiger, Nicky, and  Talea,  Luna the Dumbest Dog of the Desert, El Pelo, an Old Man and his Wife (flanked by sturdy aluminum lawn chairs), a Cranky Judge, a Sleepy Jury, a Medium Breasted Government Prosecutor with Big Hair,  A Lawn Gnome, President George H.W. Bush, Two Senior US Air Force Officials and a Limo Driver, Mr. Ferrell and Two Young Chicks,  Tinta and Tim, Papa D and Mama D (dripping with bling and  followed by a line of 1, 472 Chilean orphans). Ferrell turns on the boom box perched atop his shoulder, and kicks up the volume. The crowd breaks out into a flash mob of dancing to "La Macarena".
Pepino Suave joins the merry fray, lifting La Espalda Peluda over the mob, where she crowd-serfs from one end of the plaza to another, smothered in her own vomit and shame. As the forlorn wench is passed back to Pepino's side of the park,  her slimy cloak causes him to lose his grip and she falls to the pavement head-first. A loud "crack" of her spinal cord rings through the plaza,  followed by a matching loud"crack" of The Linoleum Queen's strong right hand slapped ferociously against Mr. Suave's  bestubbled left cheek.  Suave stares, stunned, into the camera for a few silent moments. Ferrell cuts the music, and all surround the hairy little creature. Pepino Suave cries:

She's dead!

The plaza falls silent for a five-apple count. The crowd then shrugs in unison, Ferrell hits the power button, and dancing resumes. 

Credits roll while camera pans the plaza and the entire third chorus of La Macarena is played.

Cut to black

Cue Commercial:  MANGROOMER Do-It-Yourself Electric Back Hair Shaver

Escenario 15

Escenario 15

"La Foto"

Escrito por Mama D.

Place:  Rapidos Grande, Michigan

Time:  Saturday night

Scene:  The driveway of Tim’s house where Tim sits alone in the car, the box of props from El Jefe’s office next to him on the passenger seat.  We can see the silhouette of Tim’s wife, Tinta, cleaning the kitchen.  As we follow Tim’s wandering eyes in the the twilight of the evening it is clear that while Tim has been gone Tinta has painted the house, chopped two cords of wood, installed a satellite dish, mowed the lawn and planted her beloved Tulips.   Across the street, an unmarked van sits with two videographers filming away.  Tim meanwhile gets back to rehearsing his “coming out” speech.  He was very much regretting not telling his beloved Tinta sooner...

“…and so Tinta, mi amor, every time I said I was going out to buy a Grand Rapids Press on Saturday mornings I was actually catching a private plane for Florida.  So while it looked like I was just trying to get out of trimming the hedges, I actually was working at my other job…”

Tinta moved toward the front window and looked to the sky.  Even through poor lighting and glass her Northern European radiance shown through.  Comfortable in her wooden shoes, she munched on her sixth apple of the day.  Sunday, the Lutheran Sabbath, would come early so she closed the blinds, shut off the lights and moved toward the bedroom.

Tim knew it was now or never.  He left the car and pulled out his keys to unlock the front door.  The camera men were immediately right behind him.  As he fumbled getting the keys in the lock, Tinta opened the door.

“Tim, there you are” she said lovingly.  “Did you ever find a copy of the Saturday Press?”

“Er...no.  Tinta, we need to talk.  I have things to tell you and I hope you will still love me after I tell you them.”

“Tim, I married you for better or for worse.  I am assuming that whatever you have to tell me will only make things better.”

They enter the house with the camera crew in tow.  They sit on the couch and Tim begins to blather his whole story.  The camera crew diligently stays with the scene but as Tim starts to go into great detail of what makes a great telenovela, they eventually start filming all the awards that Tinta has won over the years; first as an All-American field hockey player, then as an academic standout at a prestigious “presidential” university, then as a public servant as multi-time teacher of the year.  All this was interspersed with awards from the Michigan State Fair for her tulips and strufwafel cookies.  A single gold record from Tinta’s album from her singing and songwriting career completed the set.

Mercifully, Tim got around to the events of early today and the camera team rejoined the story just as Tim pulled the picture from his pocket.
(Show prop picture again)

“ …and here is the picture I found in the box.  The man in the cowboy hat is my boss, El Jefe.  The other guy I am assuming is that trouble maker Pepino Suave himself.  This explains everything.  The only thing that is nagging at me is one time when I asked El Jefe’s secretary to describe this Pepino Suave guy, she described him as a ‘hideously ugly duende, or troll like character.’ Frankly, I think the dude in this picture is a pretty handsome guy.”

Tinta looked that the picture, then at Tim.  She then said in her best diplomatic voice “Thank you for translating “duende” for me, I just don’t know what I would do without your translating skills (knowing full well that she spoke Spanish significantly better than Tim did).  I think this Pepino Suave guy is kind of cute in his own creepy little way” as she pulled Tim’s trucker cap off his head and gave the seven or eight strands of hair a playful tussle.  “Why don’t we get a good night rest and tackle this bright and early in the morning?”  Tim hustled to the fridge cracked an Amstel light beer and went off to bed while Tinta did her nightly ritual of 100 push ups and 100 sit ups.

Xxxxx

Scene II:  Sunday morning.  We see Tim alone in bed, snoring like a badly calibrated chainsaw.  We see Tinta coming in from Lutheran sunrise service and taking her Dutch Apple pies out of the oven and placing them in the window sill to cool. 

As Tinta lay awake all night formulating a plan it was clear to her that two things needed to be done.  First, make amends with Will Ferrell and second, force a confrontation with Pepino Suave to bring this telenovela/TV realidad ordeal to a close. She had only Sunday in which to get this done.  As reigning teacher of the year she had no intention of being even one minute tardy for opening bell on Monday.  She offered the camera men a slice of pie and some hand pressed Dutch coffee.  The cameramen were much obliged.  

After finally rousing slumbering Tim, she got him in the car and they off to the Grand Rapids International airport.  They boarded a private plane which Tim assumed to be owned by his production company (DUMP).  Upon entering the plane he found he was completely mistaken.

Two Senior US Air Force officers stood at attention and snapped a salute that Tinta returned.  “At your service Senorita Tinta” one of them said.  Tinta responded with a sigh, “It’s Senora Tinta now.  Thank you for coming on such short notice.  We need to fly to Burbank, California.  Once there I will need a limo and a driver to take us to the following address” as she handed over a computer generated dossier to the other officer.  He took it and nodded his head.  Tinta continued, “Please treat these videographers as our guests.”

Within seconds of strapping in, the plane ascended as quickly as any plane Tim and the cameramen had ever been on.   This was old hat for Tinta, in fact the pokiness of this plane reminded her of boat ride to Tunisia with her college buddies while studying, and moonlighting for the CIA, in Italy.  “All those romances for the sake of her country,” she reminisced. 

Xxxxx

Scene III:  The limo arrives at the house of one Will Ferrell.  In the limo are Tinta, Tim, the two cameramen, and a distinguished looking gentlemen who had joined them at the airport and the box of props from El Jefe’s office.  The gentleman held a notary stamp in one hand and a plaque in the other. Tinta rings the intercom on the iron gate as Tim looks on.

Intercom:  “yes?”

Tinta:  “Mr. Ferrell please.”

Intercom:  “Mr. Ferrell is not in, I will take a message if you like.”

Tinta looked at her watch.  She really wanted to get this finished because she thought there might be half a chance to decorate her garden windmills (which were not only a mini-tourist attraction but generated power for her entire house) if she could get home soon enough.  She had not anticipated that Will Ferrell would not be home.

Just then a tall man with curly hair wearing a Kenny Powers sweatshirt and shorts that, well, were frankly way, way too short jogged to the gate.  The man was accompanied by two young ladies that would have been right at home on South Beach and were dressed like it.  The man was Mr. Ferrell in the flesh.  Tinta let her eyes take a quick trip over “Tierra Ferrell.”  She felt like a school girl.

Mr. Ferrell jogged in place, “Can I help you?”

Tim stepped up and  said, “Mr. Ferrell, I am the Executive Producer of Amor Asqueros…”

The words didn’t leave Tim’s mouth before Ferrell unleashed a wicked right hand cross that caught Tim flush on the cheekbone.  Tim, who as a TV executive was living in a second dimension, was currently now living in a third dimension,  and living peacefully.

Tinta immediately was half filled with rage, half filled with desire and half filled with concern that she would not be back in time to catch up with her daughter after her weekend near the epicenter of Apple growing, Fleetwood, Pennsylvania (State of Washington be damned) with the Future Apple Growers of America.

Tinta stepped over Tim and said, “Will, I have a proposition for you.”  

Will arched his eye brow.  “You do?”  

“Not that type…unfortunately,” Tinta sighed as she looked at her sleeping Tim sprawled out on the asphalt.  

In hushed terms, Tinta laid out the proposition to Mr. Ferrell.  Ferrell listened, asked a couple of questions, shrugged and  gave her the affirmative shake of the head.  Out of the limo came the gentlemen with his notary stamp and plaque.   Tinta retrieved some legal documents and they were placed on the hood of the car.  Ferrell signed away and pulled his identification out of his shorts.   The older gentleman then proceeded to notarize all the documents.  Once the task was completed, Tinta put the documents in a brief case and into the car. 

After putting away his notary stamp, the older gentlemen straightened his tie and presented the plaque to Ferrell.  Clutching a proclamation, the older gentleman read out loud:  “I, George Herbert Walker Bush, the 41^st President of the United States do hereby proclaim you the one thousand and FIRST recipient of the Thousand Points of Light award program.  Why you are receiving this award and why am I going over my quota is not important.  What is important is that my trusted aid and confidante, Tinta my favorite intern, has asked that I give it to you.”

Ferrell and Bush Forty-one posed for a quick picture by one of the camera men and for another one taken by Ferrell’s gate security camera.  Ferrell and Bush Forty-one shook hands and gave each other a “bro-hug.” 

As Bush 41 stepped back, Ferrell and Tinta stood looking in each other’s eyes.  “You know my lawsuit was ironclad” said Ferrell.   “But between your sweet mouth and your unfortunate husband being forced to catch the matinee version of the ‘Ferrell gun show’, I figured dropping the suit was the least I could do.”

Tinta reached into her bra she pulled a DVD copy of “Casa mi Padre” and Ferrell shook his head with a smile and pulled out a sharpie out of his running shorts. He signed the DVD cover, “To Inky, ‘Mi Amor Asqueroso’ Will XOXO”

With that the limo driver opened the trunk and Will, Tinta and Bush 41 picked Tim up and threw him in the back.  Before closing the trunk Tinta reached into the prop box and presented the jogging girls with the small cup bra and the dog collar and told them “share.”  She then gave the unread copy of “Applebee’s America” to a perplexed President Bush.  Finally to Will Ferrell she handed the big busted garden gnome.  “A memento of my visit,” she said, accompanied with a soft kiss on Ferrell’s cheek.

Videographers, ex-Presidents and Tinta hopped back in the limo.  As the limo speeds away, we can see Ferrell mimicking something with the garden gnome that is sexually inappropriate for network television viewing (but OK for cable viewers after a certain time in the evening) as the jogging girls look on laughing.  

Tinta turns around and faced forward.  She pulls an apple from her bag and starts to eat it.  “OK, Pepino Suave, you’re next!” she says to no one in particular.  She throws “Casa Mi Padre” into the the limo’s DVD player and they all start to watch.

Scene closes with the muffled sound of a snoring miscalibrated chain saw coming from the trunk.

(See back end of limo departing down the road)

El Fin

Escenario 14

CHAPTER 14

 ANOTHER DIMENSION
Escrito por Joe D.

Place:  South Beach Miami, El Capital de Latino America

Time:  A Saturday, mid afternoon

Scene:  A spectacular swimming pool and gardens surrounded by swaying palm trees, all discretely gated from the white sands of South Beach and the azure ocean.  The weather is post card perfect. Even though it was early by the South Beach clock, beautiful people (underscore beautiful) were already lounging by the pool.

Just inside the gate to the beach we see a man dressed not unlike one of his personal heros, Sonny Crockett of the late gringo telenovela de tiempo primero, “Miami Vice.”  This man with a stubble of red beard looked every bit the 80’s undercover cop in his pastel chino pants, matching colored sport jacket and purple Tshirt. 

Yet, while this man certainly looked like he was part of the South Beach scene, he was not “one of them.”  What set him apart from the rest of the tan bikini clad denizens was his paleness, a telltale sign that Miami, or any where with sun, was not his home.  The man did not choose to hide the fact he was not a full time member of the beach party scene.  Not with his faded old school “University of Detroit Titans” snapback trucker hat affixed over his balding head and boots better suited for shoveling a sidewalk of snow than walking a sandy sun kissed beach.

xxxxxx

“Tio Teem!” yelled one of the buxom, and severely underclad, party goers.  Immediately the attention of the entire pool snapped to the gated ocean entrance.  “HOLA TEEM!” they shouted in unison.  

Our pasty white man in pastel surveyed the scene.  While his eyes were focused on the decadence in front of him his mind kept slipping back to his other life  The mundane one where he was a substitute school teacher living in a place that Madison Avenue scores demographically as “other.”  Sure he married well - and thank god his daughter took after his mother.  But his family, along with all his exceptional siblings, their extended families, all his students and all his friends were all constant reminders of how “uncool” how people perceived him to be.  

What his family, students and friends did not know is that in this alternate universe Tim was considered to be very cool.  His one-time bizzarre and frankly unhealthy preoccupation with telenovelas eventually led to a part-time job with Divertido Universial Mundo Producciones (or to its detractors, DUMP), a major supplier of product content to the Spanish speaking television world.  Over time Tim’s nerdy hobby led to him becoming a successful television executive with all the deserved trappings and benefits that the regular world only dreams.  As he surveyed the pool he was checking those benefits out now.

“God, I love this country” he mumbled to himself.  “To the winner, the spoils.”

Tim made his way by the pool toward the mansion.

“Mimosa, Tio Teem?” one of the hotties tempted.

Oh, Tim thought, if it were just any other day.

“No, guapita.  Nada para mi.”

Guapita put on her best frowny.  “But Teeeeemmmm!!!”

But Tim had already strode past.  The down side of living the life in the greatest country on the planet is sometimes the bill is due and work has to get done.  Today was one of those days.  Today’s problema was Amor Asqueroso.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scene II:  Tim walked through the palatial doors of the estate and to the office of his boss, the patriarch of DUMP, who literally was called by everyone “El Jefe.”  As Tim got to the waiting area he becomes cognizant of a two-member film crew silently following him around and filming him.

Tim reached for his cell phone and looked at his text message from the day before:  AMOR ASQUEROSO…Consigue tu CULO aquí abajo!   First time he had ever received a message like that from El Jefe.  He was on the corporate jet first thing in the morning.  Probably should have thought of a better of excuse to his wife than “Honey, going to go try to find a paper.”

For the record, the telenovela Amor Asqueroso, or “AA” for short was not Tim’s creative idea.  When the treatment for AA crossed his desk Tim thought the concept, put forward by some complete nut job named Pepino Suave, was a complete non-starter and deposited it in his circular file.  But somehow it hit the desk of El Jefe who liked the premise for some insane and unexplainable reason.  So Tim decided it was in his best interest to become the adoptive parent of AA; loving and nurturing the show in much the same manner parent would a child - a child that they had absolutely no control or influence over.  

Not to say that Tim was completely hands off with the AA production.  Tim solved a significant problem when some busy bodies from the Estado Durango and some Slavic nation in Eastern Europe joined forces to hire some environmental “whack job do-gooder” named “Ms. Manion” to represent them over the fall out of the bombings that occurred in episodes Seven and Pasqua.  He eventually bought her off for two Red Sox tickets, some Tequila, and an introduction to a young gun Bostonian to play center field for her co-ed softball team.  The cleaned up enviornmental report meant no law suit and everyone, including Ms. Manion’s softball team, ended up a winner.

Other than external issues like the environmental issue, Tim had no real role in the story line of AA although he was titled the show’s executive producer.  Sure, he did have to remind the office romantics that “Pechos y amor son iguales” when they kept clamoring about “Where is the ‘Amor’ in ‘Amor Asqueroso’?” but Tim did that for all his shows.  As long as the show got ratings, and it got ratings because it brought what any decent telenova should bring to the party, breasts and violence, Tim didn’t pay it any mind.  At least until the text from El Jefe yesterday.

Finally the door opened to El Jefe’s office.  Tim walked inside and the camera crew followed.  The office was spectacularly appointed in fine Corinthian leather with the exception of two lawn chairs that looked woefully out of place.  Finally it dawned on him, the chairs from AA’s episode 10.  Tim appreciated the irony.

“Teem, please seeeat!” said El Jefe motioning to the chairs and looking right at the camera.  Tim sat in one of the lawn chairs.  Behind El Jefe’s desk was a bank of television sets, today all posted to various sporting events.  El Jefe was a degenerate gambler and loved to put his money where his mouth was.  Playing to the camera, El Jefe pointed to the center console.  

“Today Teem, we bet big on your equipo the Michigan Lobo-ines!  They play at “La Casa Grande” and los idiotos in Vegas give me points!  This is money for free!”  Tim wondered why his beloved Michigan, one of his alma maters from his mundane world, would be the underdog at home but immediately he focused back at the meeting at hand.  His early analysis:  this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.  

El Jefe looked under his desk and pointed at Tim’s boots.  “Forget your sandals again!” El Jefe barrel laughed.  Tim started to relax and thought it might be time to get on the cigar and cocktail program after all.  Tim glanced to his right looking for the cigar box and saw two good size boxes on the boss’s otherwise immaculately clean desk.  

At this moment, El Jefe sat up in his chair and spoke sternly.  “Teem,” he intoned as he moved the closest of the boxes in front of him, “you have a problem.”  El Jefe tilted the large box forward so Tim could see inside.  “This box contains a lawsuit brought against us by Senor Will Ferrell.  Our attorneys say he is going to ruin our company and it is all because of your stupid show.  Your treatment of him, one of Norte America’s greatest gifts to the world, has been rude and unfair!” 

Tim was speechless.  Tim actually liked and admired Will Ferrell.  Besides, his wife confided in him that Ferrell was her favorite actor, particularly after she saw his naked bottom in the movie “Old School” and she told him that she thought Ferrell’s tush reminded her of Tim’s.  And now he was getting blamed for Pepino Suave’s treatment of Ferrell?  

“Teem, you must redeem yourself and fix your mistake.  I want you to make amends to Senor Ferrell immediately and bring this Amor Asqueroso to an end.  I want Senor Ferrell satisfied and Amor Asqueroso finished and I want it done NOW!

Not like anyone could tell, but the blood had run completely from Tim’s face.  He sat there in silence with sweat starting to drench his JMU Fighting Dukes t-shirt.

El Jefe then pulled over the second box.  “In this box are all the props that your friend Senor Pepino has supplied us.  Use them as you will” he said with a flourish.  “Or burn them!”

Tim sat transfixed as El Jefe continued gravely, “If you do not move on this problem starting this very instant and complete the task I assigned you, you will be FIRED!  FIRED I SAY!”  El Jefe said this as he was looking straight into one of the cameras.  Then El Jefe paused as the camera switched positions and he looked at the camera again from the other direction and repeated himself with the same verve as before “…you will be FIRED!  FIRED I SAY!”  

“Cut” said one of the camera men and El Jefe smiled broadly at Tim.  “Teem, you are going to star in our first programma realidad!  Isn’t this exciting!!!”  

Xxxxxx

El Jefe grabbed a cigar, a bottle of Cuban rum, slapped Tim on the back and headed pool side.  Tim stood up and started fumbling through the box.  He didn’t doubt for a second the wishes of El Jefe.  He briefly checked out some of the contents as he fumbled through the box:

• A limp cucumber
• A dog collar
• A urinal cake
• A small cup size bra
• A clearly unread hardcover edition of “Applebee’s America”
• Several timing detonators 
• A garden gnome with the biggest breasts he had ever seen

Tim collected himself.  He looked up and his eyes wondered to the big screen in the center.  He focused just in time to see a caravan of football players dressing in shock trooper full white uniforms barreling down the field toward one of the end zones.  As soon as the player passed the end line the score appeared on the bottom of the screen:  1:27 2^nd Quarter, Boise State 34, Michigan 0.  The camera flashed from the end zone celebration to the dejection of the blue and maize on the field, on the sidelines and in the stands.

The totality of the events reminded Tim of a book he used to read his daughter only slightly paraphrased to capture his current situation: “Tim and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”

Tim dropped his eyes back to the box.  Something caught his eye.  Something he had not seen before in any of the prior episodes.  Perhaps this might be the key to bringing this entire bad dream to a close.  The something that caught his eye was a picture.  He picked it up and studied it further.  A small, but real, smile started to crease his lips, accompanied with the slightest sense of relief.  

“And so the journey begins…”  Tim, the TV executive, was back in the saddle again.

(Camera focuses on picture)

Escenario 13

"El Gnomo"

Escrito por Anna "La Hija" Rumpz

Camera zooms out, revealing the Thug Will Ferrell in a dark cell surrounded by garden gnomes.  He shows particular interest in a big-breasted she-gnome wearing a fake rhinestone tiara and lots of mascara.

Will Ferrell the Thug:  Oh, my decorative brethren!  If only you had been able to explain the purpose of my mission to that tired, cranky judge after I freed you from those unsightly flowers.

Big-breasted Gnome (translated from Gnomish):  He would not have understood, mi querida.

Will Ferrell the Thug:  You are right, mi amor.  But you do.  You understand.  Promise me that you will never reveal my whereabouts again.

Big-breasted Gnome (translated from Gnomish):  Of course not, nino, why would I?

Will Ferrell the Thug gives a relieved sigh.

Fade to a barren desert in Durango.  The gringo Mariachi rides in a red convertible.  He is not alone.  Zoom in.

Gringo Mariachi (reading a map--an incredibly dangerous thing to do when you are driving about 40 mph above the speed limit):  All right, Flower.  Which prison is it?

Roped, Big-breasted figure (voice full of malice):  It's the only one you will see out here, estupido:  gray, tall and with barbed wire fences.

The convertible soon putters to a stop in front of a tall, gray building with a barbed wire fence.  Gringo Mariachi enters with the roped-up Linoleum Queen.

Gringo Mariachi:  I am here to visit Will Ferrell, my . . . (short pause) step-brother.  Yeah, step-brother.  This is his sister-in-law.

Weary-looking guard (checks clipboard):  I am sorry, it appears that Mr. Ferrell was bailed out two days ago by . . . Mrs. Quinn Meulolee.  He left behind several elf-like creatures, although strangely enough he would not leave the prison without the big-breasted one.  Would you like to take the ones he left behind?

Gringo Mariachi:  No thank you, kind sir.  (Walks back to car, where a thought strikes him).  HEY, Quinn Meulolee . . . that spells Linoleum Queen!!

The Linoleum Queen starts to run-hop thru the Durango desert as she is still bound by the ropes.  Gringo Mariachi grabs her.

Gringo Mariachi:  Tell me the truth now, you got that, amiga? 

The Linoleum Queen nods, eyes wide.

Gringo Mariachi (slowly and carefully):  Where is Will Ferrell?  Do not send me on another wild goose chase.

Linoleum Queen:  He is in Nurnberg, Germany filming a movie under the alias "Friedrick Heil."  That's all I know, I swear to you.

Gringo Mariachi (miserably):  N-o-o-o-o!  You have got to be kidding me!!!  I do not speak German.  I have to travel all the way across the planet so that Will Ferrell the Thug's thievery may be avenged? All because you bailed him out.  After I take care of the Thug Will Ferrell, I'll be back to deal with you.  

Zoom out skyward as Gringo Mariachi despairs piteously.                 

      

Escenario 12

"El Juez Cansado y Malhumorado"

Escrito por Pixie "La Licensiada" Rumpz

As many--including Fournay, the gringo, and the trio of kids--search the world for the bastard Will Ferrell, a conversation is taking place at the Our Really Divine Lady of the Pure and Holy Souls Church in Los Angeles:

The big-breasted former Linoleum Queen from Lick Skillet (anguished):   I MUST know, Padre.  Where oh where is my baby?  Please, please have mercy.  Please tell me where he is.

The Padre (calmly, serenely):  It is too late.  The boy is in a good home.  In fact, I understand that the boy has met the President; been held by the President!  And, remember why you first came to me.  Remember why you asked for my help. 

The scene goes fuzzy--a flashback to not that long ago:

A Courtroom.  Present are a medium breasted government prosecutor with big hair (who badly wants to be bigger breasted and would be if she wasn't stuck in a mediocre paying mid-level government job), a shady, ethically-challenged defense lawyer, a tired, cranky judge, and the defendant--the bastard Will Ferrell.   The medium breasted government prosecutor with big hair is making her summation to an avidly interested jury.  They clearly are captivated by her oratory prowess. 

Medium breasted government prosecutor with big hair (her voice rings thru the courtroom with the righteousness of 1000 angels):   The bastard Will Ferrell is but a common thief.  He has run roughshod thru this fine city stealing garden gnomes . . .

Suddenly there is an interruption and the bastard Will Ferrell stands up at defense table.

The bastard Will Ferrell (dramatically):  I stole nothing.  I merely was freeing my elf-like brethren from a life of standing uselessly in gardens, lonely and without purpose.  Yes, my brethren were decorative additions to city gardens everywhere but they want to be so much more  . . .        

The tired and cranky judge (tiredly and crankily):  Silence bastard Will Ferrell.  Scummy defense counsel, control your client!  Medium breasted government lawyer with big hair, please, continue on with your riveting summation.   And, by the way, your medium sized breasts are lovely.  Just sayin'.  But, I digress.  Continue. 

Medium breasted government prosecutor with big hair (smirking at scummy defense counsel and then batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at the tired and cranky judge):  Thank you, Your Very Handsome and Very Strong Honor.  The bastard Will Ferrell thinks because he is a big star that he can do anything!  Why there is even talk that he once stole a screenplay from a bald gringo mariachi.   As is obvious, his urge to steal is all-consuming.  It cannot be controlled.  I beseech you:  Protect your property.  Protect your things.  You must find him guilty and send him to prison.

Suddenly there is another interruption in the courtroom as a very pregnant former beauty queen stands up in the gallery.

The big-breasted former Linoleum Queen from Lick Skillet (anguished, her big breasts heaving, her mascara running down her face from crying):  Do not send him to prison, I beg of you.  I am carrying his baby and I do not possess the skills or the intelligence to be a single parent.  I cannot raise this child on my own.  I have no money.  My baby needs its father--even if his father is a bastard.  Have mercy.    

The tired and cranky judge (tiredly and crankily):  Someone slap that big breasted woman.  

A slap rings thru the courtroom as a nearby unidentified bystander slaps the big-breasted former Linoleum Queen from Lick Skillet.

The bastard Will Ferrell is found guilty.  As he is led out of the courtroom in handcuffs he shouts out to the big-breasted former Linoleum Queen from Lick Skillet (who now is sporting a big red hand print on the side of her face).

The bastard Will Ferrell:   If a gringo comes looking for me, do not tell him I am in prison.  Send him on a wild goose chase.  Tell him I am on location for a film.  Tell him anything but never divulge where I am.  The gringo must never find me.  He must never find me.  Te amo, mi amor.  

Fade to a dark prison cell; camera is in close-up on the bastard Will Ferrell's face, seen thru the cold, gray, steel prison bars.  It appears he may be muttering to himself.

The bastard Will Ferrell:   . . . must not find me  . . . must not find me.    

Fade out. 

  

Amor Asqueroso/ Pasqua Edition

"La Locura"

Escrito por Nicky

Open scene in eastern Europe;  four Gringos, one senorita, and a mangy mutt. The men have scraggly beards, except for the pre-pubescent El Tigre, for he is a cowardly child. Ron Fournay, the famous journalist, is showing signs of insanity, writing indecipherable articles about flying bananas, and the second coming of Joseph Stalin. Talea, whom we have taken to calling La Criada, is trying desperately to find WiFi so she may tweet about her insane uncle, and some cucumber she couldn't figure out. El Tigre is passed out on the floor softly convulsing, apparently having a nightmare. Finally, El Centinela (Nicky) is keeping a silent vigil over all, watching for  Will Farrell, whom he and the great Pepino Suave abhorred. 
(Mumbling from El Tigre):  mmmmrrrrrrroooooohhhhhahhhhhhhaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!




All of a sudden, three  pairs of hazard lights appear in the distance. El Centinela quickly awakens the others, except for El tigre and La Criada, because they would have been no help. Suddenly, all come to a conclusion that they should attempt to help any victims.

El Centinela  

Come on!  Vamanos!  Everybody let's go!

               So they swiftly jog towards the lights, wary of a trick from Will Ferrell. 

Fournay  

This clearly was a car wreck!  Is anyone still alive?  

They notice symbols on the vehicles, a hammer and sickle crossed over a red star. Fournay quickly identifies this symbol as the symbol of the Red Army.

Fournay 

"But the Red Army was disbanded post cold war, after the Berlin Wall fell! This cannot be!"


 A feminine grunt off to the left of Pepino is heard by all. An immediate silence falls among the group. Pepino goes to check it out.

Pepino

There is a woman here.  She is mangled very badly.  Look!  She is wearing Russian military fatigues!  The symbol stitched onto her chest is the symbol of the Red Army.  Look at her chest! there is a medal that shows her rank, which is obviously very high.

She is concious, but barely so. Pepino sends El Centinela to get La Criada and El Tigre. He quickly returns, but obviously something is wrong. He begins to explain to Fournay, who writes it all down,  then repeats it to all. El Centinela returns to the cemetery.

El Centinela

Where are El Tigre and La Criada?  Not that anyone cares...

He immediately returns to the scene of the crash. Pepino Suave notices a smile creep across the woman's face, but he figures she is loopy, due to her current state. They quickly decide to make a makeshift stretcher out of materials like seat covers and the axles of the cars. They carry her back to Durango in the stretcher, careful not to hurt her.


           When they arrive at the hospital the woman, or as they had taken to calling her, La Comandante, is rushed to the emergency room, where she is diagnosed with blindness in her left eye. They are not family so they are encouraged to leave. Following their departure from the hospital, they ask around town.

Pepino Suave

Have you seen any large groups, with two children following along?

They continue asking about anyone who looks overly suspicious, or who has the symbol from the cars on their clothes.  They are told that there has been a group of them who have left about an hour ago, which is just before El Centinela has journeyed back to the cemetery, but there had been two children with them, they seemed to be heading northwest. (cue sharp gasp and forewarning music). The group consults their magic map, who quickly breaks into song.

Map

(pleasantly singing) I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map! 


They peer at the map, looking for anything that would be a reason to go northwest, and they see nothing, just a barren landscape; but then Fournay points out the small mountain that was not far from here, it was labeled Mt. Kilamaneverdoom. Here, they think, the men took their useless lackies!

El Fin 

Escenario 10

Scene 10
By Mom/Dad
Durango, Durango, Mexico

Cue Music: A slow country tune backed by Mrs. Soft Pickle strumming her instrument.

As the fog clears we see a park, in a small city, somewhere in North America.

       (Hint: it looks a lot like West Michigan and it is a Grand River.)

Two folding chairs are open near the river. In them sits an old man and his wife.

The music swells as a dark cloud gathers about them. A thunderous noise is heard growing louder and louder as a jet plane flies low over the river.

A large crate is dropped from the open door of the plane; a chute opens and the crate slowly drops to earth. S L O W L Y is starts to open.

The music continues to grow louder and faster.

Just as an opening appears in the crate a large explosion occurs sending the crate and the old couple sailing into the river.

Smoke and fog block the view as the scene and the music fade.

Cut to Commercial: The Loungemobile, the motorized lounge chair (easy-to-maintain canvas with aluminum frame, slant 6 mopar engine and a free cup holder if you order now)

Escenario 9

Scene 9
By Mike (tinkered with by P. Suave)
Durango, Durango, Mexico

The scene opens in the same dusty, old saloon. The same old cowboys sit in the same old chairs.

Once again a tall, dark figure appears at the door. The room is silent as the stranger enters the bar. The doors swing into the room and he takes a step inside. Suddenly he lurches forward and crashes to the floor. The crowd gasps as the handsome cowboy scrambles to his feet.

 

El Pelo: I'm O.K.!

 

A breeze blows through the saloon  as the cowboys shift in their seats. The stranger removes his 10-gallon hat and runs his thick fingers through a beautiful head of hair. He's wearing a white dress shirt and tight parachute pants. Think Fabio with man-boobs.

 

El Pelo: I am El Pelo and I'm here to avenge my sisters death. Actually her death, resurrection and death a second time. Where can I find the man with the deadly chalupas?

 

Cowboys: Tee hee

 

El Pelo: Don't toy with me. I must find him. My sister ate his chalupa and now she's dead. I understand he has a chalupa for my brother, Pepino Suave, also.

 

Cowboys: Tee hee

 

Off camera: Tio Miguel! Tio Miguel!

 

Three teens come running  from the bathroom

 

Three teens:. We're so glad you're here!. 

 

All three are runining with scissors, a Fournier family taboo. Alas, in the excitement at seeing their beloved uncle, they race to hug the hairball, accidently plunging their child-safe scissors into El Pelo´s ample man-boobs. Blood runs down his parachute pants as he turns to look in a mirror and takes his last breath. Tio Miguel falls to the floor like an over-filled, Lake Erie-grade sand bag. Camera cuts to three horrified teens with bloody child-safe scissors clutched in their hands. 

 

Cue: Nutty horror show violin music.

Cut to commercial: BreastBeGone: Male breast augmentation.

 

Amor Asqueroso/ Escenario 8

Escenario 8

"Que Brilla la Luna"

Escrito por Talea

Outskirts of Town

Durango, Durango, Mexico

Fade In:   A dusty old saloon.  Focus in on a table next to the "Caballeros", strewn with crumpled napkins, overturned Root beer bottles, and Chalupa wrappers. A disheveled bird dog, more rodent than canine, back paws on a chair and fore-feet on the table, laps up the remnants of Guapo Raul's abandoned chalupa. The cur carries on herself colonies of lice, mites, and the dust picked up from miles of Durango high-desert.  Only a few lonely cowboys are sitting in the saloon, completely distracted from their  hard day’s work on the rancho, as they watch the dog lap up the toxic snack.  Four are seated at a table, three are at the bar.  

Luna, the disheveled mutt (stupid dog talk is translated in parenthesis).

Yip, yip (Hmm. a subpar chalupa. Bold, with hints of raspberry, radiator coolant, and borax)

4 Lonely Cowboys at the table (mocking, with giggles and snorts)

Orale! This dog will die like Raquelita! We will have an asado tonight, no? She eats the poisoned chalupa of Guapo Raul!! Orale!

3 Lonely Cowboys at the bar (mocking, with giggles and snorts)

Si. Orale!

Still hungry, the mangy dog enters the men's room and sniffs a trail of chalupa droppings, leading her to the corpse of Raquelita in the urinal trough, a victim of Guapo Raul's chalupa. Luna proceeds to pounce on the dead woman's  stomach in the process of licking the remains of the Chalupa off  of  her face. A gurgling noise comes from Raquelita's pie-hole, and Luna tilts her head and sits down on her stomach, causing a stream of steaming already-consumed Chalupa to fly out of Raquelita and cover Luna.  Raquelita coughs as only a survivor from a terrible fate could.

Cue screaming violins

Raquelita

Luna! You are the Idiot Dog of the Sahara. Legend has it that only your heroics eclipse your profound stupidity. You have breathed life back into me with your filthy mouth. I thank you.

Luna, over-excited by the attention and the free meal, dashes in mad circles through the men's room as she urinates at the same time.

Raquelita

Luna, sit! There is no time for your estupidez. We must warn my brother before it is too late!

The revived wench and filthy mutt dash out of the saloon and into the sun-burnt, dusty village square smelling of urine and Chalupas. They see the Tres Primos surrounded by many banditos and one ninja. One cousin is standing all cool-like while  girl cousin looks at her I-phone and a less-muscular young man walks in circles on his toes, as if he has a wedgie.

Raquelita grabs the mutt by the scruff and they dive into a water trough.

Luna

Yip! (What the what?)

Raquelita (eyes widen with recognition of her dear nephews and neice)

Mi familia! 

Luna

Yip Yip (You mean to tell me that these three macho crime-fighting children are related to you?)

Raquelita gives Luna an evil glare. Luna whines and gives her a look that says, "well.."

Raquelita 

This whole dying and coming back to life in a urinal trough has caused me to forget the long rift I have had with mi familia.

Since I was a young campesina, my family has been a curse to my love life.

Luna

Yip yip (Poor you.)

From the soggy safety of the water trough, the forlorn barmaid and the mangy mutt watch the biggest primo struggle with the banditos and a ninja while practicing his improv technique.  

Raquelita

I can't take it any more!

Luna watches as her one and only partner in crime dashes out to  the fight , running exactly like Buddy the Elf in the movie Elf. She ends side by side with the ninja, doubled over and panting from her sprint from the water trough to the fight twenty feet away. The long lost aunt, however, goes un-noticed  by the three crime-fighters.

The girl taps at her Iphone while elbowing a bandito at the same time. The third primo stumbles onto a plunger-like device that really has no business being on the set of a Mexican Telenovela. 

The camera cuts to slow motion. Young girl drops her phone (slowly).

Talea (slowly)

Nicky, nooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Tigre (slowly)

Did you hear about the horse that entered a saloon......

Nicky (slowly)

Holy cannoli!

Nicky slips on a banana peel strategically placed by a production assistant. His feet in the air, he lands square on the plunger, causing an explosion that fills the village square with  dust, smoke, fire, and bits and pieces of banditos, ninjas, and Raquelita. Only  Los Tres Primos are left unscathed. 

Camera cuts to water trough. Only the murky chalupa-tinted water is left. 

Luna

Yip Yip! (What the what!!!)

Talea

Did you here something?

Tigre (sniffing )

I smell Chalupas

Nicky

And-sniff-urine?


Luna chomps down on Nicky's leg. Camera scans faces:  Talea, face as white as chalk, watches the dog try to dislodge her cousin's foot from his ankle. Tigre's face  cannot be seen because he is doubled over with laughter.  Nicky's face is contorted  with pain

Nicky (FInally shaking the dog from his foot )

What the what was that for?!?

Luna  (shivering with anger )

Yip! Grrr!  (You killed your aunt!)

Talea, who had been scouraging around her purse for the safety-kit, stops dead and drops  the purse.  Tigre, who had been wiping tears of laughter from his face, lets his hands drop to his sides. Nicky, who had been rubbing his injured ankle, drops to his  knees with shock. He gives a high-piched scream that somewhat takes away the dramatics of it all.

Cue screaming violins, then  Amor Asqueroso theme music.

Cue Purina Ugly Dog Chow commericial.

End Scene 8