21.06.2009 16:66:66 PM

SOMEWHERE IN NEBRASKA

A humble shack in the middle of the desert. A redneck sits on the porch, bangin a guitar.

Suddenly a large flyin saucer lands nearby. Amidst eerie glow, out step a man and a woman both wearing black business suits and overcoats. They approach the redneck.

The Man: Greetings micronian. We bring you proof that aliens don't exist.

EARLIER THAT DAY

ZENTRAEDI FLAGSHIP ORBITING EARTH. ASSISTANT COMMANDER SKEETAI'S OFFICE

- Khyron, I...

- Mulron, sir, - corrected Mulron. - My name's Mulron. M-U-L-...

- I know your stupid name, Khyron, now shut up will you. I've got a job for you and Azonia [..Scuzonia.. - mutters Mulron mutilently], yes Azonia. Our forces have attacked the micronians to recover the stolen vessel. Your task is to ensure that the earthlings won't unite to kick our ass - by making them think there's no alien invasion going on.

A pause. Skeetai looks at the two agents, who exhibit no signs of surprise.

- The task is dangerous, perhaps you will never return.

Another pause. Skeetai looks. Mulron yawns. Scuzonia whistles a jolly tune.

- This mission looks impossible...

Mulron: Will I have to hack secret databases while hanging on strings again?

Scuzonia: Huh?

Mulron: Woops.

Scuzonia: What?

Mulron: Wrong movie, I guess.

Scuzonia: What are you implying?

Mulron: Hey I said I was sorry, didnt I?

Scuzonia: No you didn't you lying bastard!

Mulron: Shut your Meltrandi...

Skeetai: SILENCE!!!

Mulron: What, what did I say?

Skeetai [talking to himself. Aloud.]: I wouldnt really mind if these two disappeared in the micronian bunghole forever. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Azonia: Erm, sir... aren't you even going to flatter us?.. to increase our self-confidence so we don't screw up the task?..

Skeetai: No.

Mulron: Damn, I hate when he says that.

[Later, in the landing vessel as it descends through Earth atnosphere]

Scuzonia: Listen, Khyron...

Mulron: Mulron. Cant your inferior brains grasp this simple concept? We got a new job - so we get new names!

Scuzonia: What kind of twisted logic is that... [Mulron opens his mouth] ...well whatever, I just wanted to bring one peculiar thing to your attention. Did you notice that Assistant Commander was somehow displeased with us?

Mulron: Cant be. We're his best men. And women.

Scuzonia: But when he said something about getting rid of the two...

Mulron: He was talking about his Parker and notebook.

Scuzonia: Now dont try any of your propaganda doublespeak on me! [Mulron looks puzzled] Anyway, back to that later. We're almost there. [Mulron's puzzlement deepens] I mean, we're near the surface.

Mulron: OIC.

Scuzonia: Where's our camouflage? Remember, we've got to look indigenous so that the micronians trust us.

Mulron: Don't worry. I'm a professional.

Loud bump.

Mulron: Touchdown! Here, put this on.

Scuzonia: So many layers of clothing... decadent, I guess. The micronian culture must be deteriorating if their fashion has fallen from practical to prettified...

Mulron [anxiously]: Hurry up, we've got a job to do!

Scuzonia [sacrastically]: How do you expect me to dress up? A staring Zentraedi special agent is a poor mirror substitute. Unless I could see my reflection in your little eyes...

Mulron: Cut the crap will you.

Finally they manage to get out of the landing craft. It appears they're in Nebraska (big surprise).

Mulron: Hey, you're looking pretty... [Scuzonia blushes and smiles] ...stupid in this micronian outfit.

Scuzonia: I hate you! I'm gonna rip...

Mulron [hurriedly]: Oh look, there's our first micronian!

The redneck stares at them.

Mulron [into a cell phone]: Bye guys, thanks for the ride.

The landing craft risez up in a blaze, and launches straight up to heaven.

Redneck: Holy shit.

Mulron: Greetings micronian. We bring you proof that aliens don't exist.

Redneck: Ya don't say!

Mulron whips out an FBI ID, stained with blood and with a bullethole right in the middle.

Mulron: I'm Special Agent Fux Mulron, and this is Special Agent Zana Scuzonia. We're with the FBI.

Redneck: Guv't fellas eh?

Mulron: Aye, lad. [Thinks: good thing I took those micronian slang courses]

A pause.

Mulron: Aliens don't exist. All the stuff shown on TV, the crap about aliens invading Earth and killing micronians, is what it is - a bunch of crap. Nothing more.

Another pause.

Scuzonia: The government wants you to believe there are aliens around, so that they can squeeze out more taxes.

Redneck: Aint ya from the guv't?

Mulron: Aye, lad.

Redneck: I don getcha.

Mulron: Aye, l...

Scuzonia: We're the good guys. We come in peace. We friends.

Redneck: Laidy, don gemme wrong, but... why on the horse radish are ya wearin a bra on top of ya coat?

Scuzonia whispers to Mulron: Uh-oh, looks like we screwed with the camouflage...

Mulron whispers: What do you mean - we? It's your bra!

Scuzonia whispers: You think he suspects us?

Mulron whispers: Nah. We're too smart fo him.

Redneck: What are ya two Martians whisperin bout?

Mulron: This and that.

Scuzonia: Why did you call us Martians?

Redneck: Cuz you're a bunch of friggin aliens.

Mulron, shocked: What made you think so?

Redneck: Well, the flyin saucer was a good clue...

Mulron thinks: I knew the micronians were cunning, but this is ridiculous!

Redneck: Now hole on a second, boys n' girls, ole Stu gotta make a phone call.

He stands up and goes into the house.

Scuzonia: Damn. We lost him.

Mulron sighs.

Mulron: I cant believe it.

Scuzonia: Well, what now?

Mulron: I dunno. This wasn't in the plan.

Inside the shack. The redneck dials a number.

After about a dozen rings, someone picks up the phone.

Redneck: Hello? Is this the Men in Black?

A rough voice, whose owner is obviously accustomed to smoking pipe: NO.

Redneck: But I've got a bunch of aliens here...

Pipe-smoking man [with Russian accent]: Then you've called to the right place, comrade.

Back at the porch

Mulron: ...and don't call me Khyron anymore!

Scuzonia: Why not? If it irritates you - why the hell not?

Mulron: Because... because "Khyron" is not a micronian name... I think. You could blow our cover.

Scuzonia: It's already blown, Mulron.

Mulron, shocked: Really?!. . . [remembers] ...I mean... [with a sardonic smile] oh reeeely? We'll see about that! This micronian may be smart - hell, he might even be a damn genius, but Mulron cracked harder nuts... I just need some more time.

Scuzonia: Well, you'll get another chance as soon as he makes his phonecall.

The agents look at each other.

Mulron: Phonecall! Of course!

Scuzonia: Hmmm... Mulron?

Mulron: Why didnt I think of it before?

Scuzonia: Mulron, what's a phonecall?

Mulron: What? You, a trained Zentraedi infiltrator, don't know? Jeez! I, for one, took special courses on...

Scuzonia: Just tell me.

Mulron: Well, you see, there's this dingy, called a phone. And it - it calls. From time to time. You can make it call. I think it's a machine of sorts.

Scuzonia: Mmmhmmm.

Mulron: What?

Scuzonia: Please, continue.

Mulron: That... seems to be all I know.

Scuzonia: But what does it DO?

Mulron: I told you - it calls.

Scuzonia: Your education is so admiringly flawless, o shining pearl of wisdom! Never a humble acolyte such as my inferior self could deduce that enormous amount of information from the simple facts of life. Thou art an ocean of intellect - no, a universe of thoughts, each as awesome as a star!

Mulron, smiling dazedly: I always knew I had it in me...

Scuzonia: I rest my case.

They stand for a few minutes - or hours? - deep in thought.

Scuzonia: Well, where is that guy? It's getting dark and cold out here. And my feet hurt.

Mulron: For how long have we actually been standing here?

Scuzonia: Don't know. Feels like an eternity. [Sits down]

Mulron: Okay then, no more Mr Nice Guy. He wants to play rough, eh... [whips out a 9mm short-barreled pulse rifle] ...wow, does my head hurt. SURRENDER MICRONIAN!! OR ELSE!!

Mulron gives a long burst in the air, then starts crashing the door with his body.

Scuzonia: Why did you shoot in the air?

Mulron: A warning shot.

Scuzonia: But why dont you shoot out the lock?

Mulron: Why waste ammo?

Finally, the door swings open, and the agents run inside, screaming the usual stuff.

Mulron, Scuzonia: FBI!!! PUT YOUR LEGS IN THE AIR!!

There's only one room. And it's empty.

Scuzonia: But how...

The rear door's open.

Mulron: Do you think...

Scuzonia [pointing at the car tracks in the backyard]: Via ground vehicle.

Mulron: Fuck.

Scuzonia: I don't take orders from subordinates.

21.09.2009 21:11:11 PM

SDF-1 MEETING ROOM

A dark interior, clouded by tobacco smoke. The redneck stands before a long table, by which sit people in uniforms. At the end, where smoke is thickest, there's a human shape. The man's face appears only for a few moments - while he's trying to light his pipe.

Redneck: ...n' em sed, Stu ole chap, there aint no aliens, n' I say, I be damned to hell forever if a couple of em aliens dont stand right here right now, and em were like hit ower da head wi' a fryin pan if ya know what I mean...

Pipe-smoking man: They're good actors. [finally the lighter works, and the man inhales]

Redneck: ...n' ya know, one of em had friggin purple skin! Cross my hear n' swear to die purple!...

Pipe-smoking man [exhaling]: Hhhmmmmm.

Redneck: ...if not for that saucer, I would've thought they're a bunch o'hippies. Ya know, those pot-smokin...

Pipe-smoking man: Yeah baby...

Redneck: ...stupid-dressin hippies, they always wander round my fields and ya know why? Cause ole Stu has the finest marijuana planta...

Pipe-smoking man coughs violently.

Redneck: Wooops.

Pipe-smoking man: We'll discuss this alien infiltration matter later. Meeting's over, Gentlemen.

Officers leave the room.

Pipe-smoking man: Mr Danglebeats? What were you saying about a... uhh... plantation?

Redneck: Me and my friggin mouth.

Pipe-smoking man, smiling: We might be of some use to each other... Stu ole chap.

21.09.2009 22:22:22 PM

BACK IN NEBRASKA

The agents are exploring the shack

Mulron: Found anything yet?

Scuzonia: Like what?

Mulron: I could use some booze.

Scuzonia: You should be looking for clues Mulron!

Mulron: But I had such a depressing day!

Scuzonia: Well, you might as well get used to disappointments. Looks like we screwed up for good this time.

Mulron: Could be worse.

Scuzonia: How?

Mulron: We could be dead.

Scuzonia: Skeetai's gonna see to that once we present him the... results.

Mulron: You're such a pessimist...

Scuzonia: I'm a realist, Mulron.

They continue searching in silence. But not for long.

Mulron: Hey, look what I found!

Scuzonia: Well, it's a bottle.

Mulron: YES, IT IS!

Scuzonia: Wait! It might be poison!

Mulron: Stop being so paranoid, Scuzonia. [takes a swing] AGHHH!!!!

Scuzonia: What, what is it?

Mulron: ALCOHOL!!

Scuzonia: But...

Mulron: You know I can't stand alcohol, Scuzonia! Not after the last time you got me drunk on the Commemorative Parade!

Scuzonia: Yeah, when you barfed on Director Dolza himself... [snickers]

Mulron: I did not!

Scuzonia: You cant remember a thing after that electroshock treatement, I guess.

Mulron: What treatment?..

Scuzonia: Why else would you suddenly start drinking milk instead of booze, Mulron?

Mulron: Oh Great Zor! They lied to me... all these years... but my revenge will be well worth waiting for!! They'll wish they've never heard of me!!

Scuzonia: Shut up Mulron. [finds something] Here, have a joint.

Mulron: What is this?

Scuzonia: Micronians light these up and inhale. Pretty cool.

Mulron [suspiciously]: How do you know?

Scuzonia: I... uhh... I took special courses on micronian culture.

Mulron: Oh. Yeah, you can never trust micronians... they're so treacherous... like hiding alcohol in a milk bottle... how are you supposed to light this thing?

Scuzonia: With a lighter. And this isn't a milk bottle. It says right on the label...

Mulron: Okay okay. I can't read micronian. There. Now gimme the "lighter".

Scuzonia: I dont have one.

Mulron: Great! Just great! Zor-dammit, what a day!

Scuzonia: I told you it was going to be disappointing.

Mulron: Could you be optimistic just once... to cheer me up... please?

Scuzonia: Sure. It's bad now - but it's gonna get worse soon!

Mulron: I'm feeling better already...

They sit for a moment in sad silence.

Scuzonia: I have an idea. You could light it with your gun.

Mulron: Huh?! [weights the gun] I don't see how that's...

Scuzonia: Shoot at it!

Mulron: As if I didn't know, Ms Smartypants! [aims the gun at the joint. Which is held by Scuzonia]

Scuzonia: Wait. I don't trust your aim.

Mulron: Ha! I'm a regular sniper with my 9mm! But, if you're such a wuss...

Scuzonia walks out and sticks the joint to the fence, about ten yards away. She then retreats behind Mulron's back.

Mulron: Lets Roll!

Gunfire.

Instead of the fence there is now a dozen craters.

Scuzonia: What kind of ammo is that?

Mulron: High-velocity explosive-tipped... did I light it?

Scuzonia, staring at the smoking ruins: You did, all right... but it's no much use now. Tough luck Mulron.

Mulron: You can say that again.

Scuzonia: Tough luck Mulron.

Mulron: Your sense of humour never ceases to amaze me, Scuzonia. You dont joke much, but when you do, it's a killer!

Scuzonia: I was just trying to ease the tension...

Hippie: What's up, fellas?

Mulron: Nothing much... what the?!..

The two agents are thunderstruck. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Hippie: We were just passin by, and heard weird noises... any survivors?

The agents stare at him. He's a small feeble-looking guy with greenish-blue hair. Wears blue glasses. There's a hippie-van parked nearby.

Hippie: There was a crash, right? And you must be from the police?.. [notices the rifle in Mulron's hands] ...uh-oh...

Scuzonia whispers: Hide that thing Mulron! [Aloud] Yes, there was a... craftcrash. A craft crashed here. Leaving craters. Apparently no survivors.

Mulron: We're with the FBI [produces the ID]

Hippie: You came for old Stu Danglebeats, eh... I knew it... too good a man to be liked by the government... he was always ready to lend some crack to a friend in need... so they sent a couple of cold-blooded killers to get rid of him...

Mulron: Huh?

Scuzonia: Who's Stu Dangle-whatever?

Hippie: Heh yeah, very funny, nice sense of humour lady. He's the old guy you just killed. But remember - our time will come, and you won't escape reve...

Scuzonia: We didn't kill anyone. You don't see any bodies, do you? And there wasn't enough time to hide them.

Hippie: Hmmm... you're right...

Mulron: Yeah, that SOB got away!

Hippie: Don't they teach you Feds how to lie? I'm outta here. See ya in hell. [walks towards the hippie-van]

Mulron whispers: He's getting away! [aims the rifle]

Scuzonia: Wait!!

Hippie, Mulron: What?

Scuzonia: We're not the FBI. We're aliens.

Hippie, Mulron: What?!..

Scuzonia: Yes. We're the real aliens. Not like those destructive monsters the government shows you on TV. You see, the ruling hunta wants you to believe there's an alien invasion going on, just like during the Cold War they said the Soviets were getting ready to attack. They want to get more control over the population and destroy the last remnants of democracy with the help of an external threat. And so we came to tell you Earthlings about a conspiracy against the American Freedom!

A moment of shocked silence.

Mulron: Yeah, what she said is true.

Hippie: Of course! All this endless babbling on TV and radio and in the papers, about how horrifying aliens attacked Macross Island, it's all a huge fake! A humbug to deceive the citizens of USA... and the whole world! Yeah... it could be a worldwide governmental conspiracy against mankind... they want to turn us into mindless slaves... and noble extraterrestrials arrive to warn us, but are forced to hide under the cover of government agents... how smart of you... but they're no buttheads too... they took Stu, made him talk, and finally found you... but you managed to kick their ass... we won the first battle, comrades, but are still a long way from winning the war.

A pause.

Mulron: So... what now?

Hippie: Let me introduce you to our small but heroic team of freedom fighters.

The three of them start walking towards the hippie-van.

Suddenly the shack goes up in a huge explosion.

Hippie: They've found us. Lets get out of here.

High in the sky, 2 Veritechs exchange transmissons

Roy Facker: Why the fack didja do that for? We were told to examine the plantation, not burn it!

Rick Bummer: I thought I saw someone down there.

Roy Facker: Fack what you saw, we've got orders! Now get down and start cleaning the mess before the boss finds out!

Rick Bummer: Bummer.

22.09.2009 01:01:01 PM

INTERSTATE-42

The hippie-van goes at well over 100 mph. More smoke comes out from windows than from the exhaust pipe.

Hippie: ...Fux Mulron, meet Synn Vyle, the Peacemaker...

Synn Vyle: We will drench the rotten blood and force humanity into happiness with an iron fist!

Mulron [smoking]: Mmmhmm.

Hippie: ...Ban Coxon, the Slow Dumbass...

Mulron: Mmmhmm.

Hippie: ...and Synn Minbrein, the Virgin... Vyle's sister and lover...

Minbrein: Oh Mulron... you look so cool in this overcoat... saay, do aliens really have all sorts of weird stuff down there?

Mulron: Mmmhmm...

Scuzonia: Mulron, button up immediately!

Mulron: Shake it baby...

Scuzonia: It's an order!!

Minbrein: Beat it, bitch! He's my man now!

Scuzonia, Synn Vyle: Why you cheap slut!!

A fight breaks loose, and since Synn Vyle stops driving to beat the crap out of Minbrein, the van soon collides with a lamppost.

Everyone bump their heads and shut up. A moment of silence.

Ban Coxon: AND I AINT NO SLOW DUMBASS!!

SAME DATE

SAME ROAD

A black car races through thick trail of smoke. The plate says SEXAGON.GOV

Pipe-smoking man (into a tape-recorder): Evil... uhh... Good Overlord Rule No. 13: Never trust your minions with doing important tasks! You'll always wind up doing them yourself, and better sooner than later...

Redneck: Whaz 'at neet lil wachamacallumz ya talkin' to? One o'ose atifishal brains I reckon?

Pipe-smoking man: It's a tape-recorder.

Redneck: Yah shoore, as if ole Stu ne'er saw any taper cords... tons of em when I was back in Korea shootin yer commie pals...

Pipe-smoking man: Brother.

Redneck: I aint yer br'er ya commie bastard... back in Nam we used to eat commies fu' lunch ya now... like one day I wuz sittin on da snow piling up frozen commies...

Pipe-smoking man: Snow - in Viet Nam?

Redneck: Like wudja look at 'is smartass! When I was yer age I was like shut up an' listen to what grown-ups say!

Pipe-smoking man: Wait a minute. I'm a figure of authority, I dont have to take any shit from you!

Redneck: Ya do.

Pipe-smoking man: Well... why?

Redneck: Cuz ya like to smoke yer pipe, an' only ole Stu nows where to find da best pipe-filler on this side of Nebraska. Now step on it!

Pipe-smoking man: Those hippies cant be far judging by the smoke we've been riding through the last five hours. You sure they've got all the pot?

Redneck: Yep, mi house bin sweeped cleer of all crack. It's em hippies, fu' shoore.

Pipe-smoking man: Soon I will have as much pipe-filler as I want... all for myself! And no one can stop me!! [chuckles softly]

Redneck: Say, can I burrow yer taper cord for a minute?

Pipe-smoking man: Sure. Why not. Unless...

Redneck [pressing "stop" and taking out the tape]: Yep.

Pipe-smoking man: Give me that tape!

Redneck: Nope. I like to keep 'em lil secrets recorded, ya know.

Pipe-smoking man: I can take it back.

Redneck: 'N miss yer pipe-filler?

Pipe-smoking man: I knew I should've quit smoking.

Redneck: Yeah, bad for yer lungs. Might get cancer, ya know.

NEXT MORNING

IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

The Zentraedi agents and the hippies can be seen lying around the hippie-van. Unless you're blind, that is.

Scuzonia: Where... where am I?... [glances around and tries to remember. Sees Mulron, unconscious, and stirs him up] ...Mulron, wake up!

Mulron: Owhhhhh... my head... is it there?! [starts searching for the head]

Scuzonia: No, and it never was.

Mulron: Oookay...

Scuzonia: Do you remember what happened?

Mulron: Nope. My head hurts...Wait a sec!

Scuzonia: Yes?

Mulron: If my head hurts, it means I do have a head. Right?

Scuzonia: No, it's just the upper hindbrain. Listen, we must get out of here before the micronians hunt us down... where's the cell phone?

Mulron produces the cell phone from his overcoat. The phone is all battered.

Mulron: It doesn't beep anymore...

Scuzonia: On the second thought, I guess you dont even have a hindbrain. You broke our only means of communication with the fleet. Congratulations, dumbass.

Mulron: Hey! You have no right to insult me!

Scuzonia: I do. I'm your superior, so shut up and listen to my whining.

Mulron: Yes sir.

Scuzonia: I'm not a...

Mulron: I was being sarcastic. Now how about trying to wake up these micronian revolutionaries? Perhaps they could repair the vehicle.

Scuzonia: Bump your head more often - it tightens your grip of reality.

Mulron: Whatever. [proceeds to kick the hippies]

Scuzonia: Don't "whatever" my remarks, Mulron!

Mulron [slapping hippies around]: Excuse my impertinence, m'lady, never again shall I lower thy words of wisdom by silly comments.

Hippie: Ouch!

Scuzonia: Was that a sound of admiration or of pain?

Hippie: Of pain.

Scuzonia: Good for you. Mmm... what's your name again?

Hippie: Uhh... hmmm... guys, anyone remembers my name?

Everyone start thinking

Synn Vyle: There was an absolute measurement in it... and something to do with skirts...

Hippie: Like - mini?

Minbrein: Yeah! And something to do with money! What's that fancy word... currency!

Hippie: Like... I'm starting to remember now... Minimillian Dollar!

Everyone but Scuzonia: Yay!

Scuzonia: Now that we've had our fun and remembered our names, how about fixing this vehicle and getting out of here?

Mulron: Since you brought up the subject... where are we?

Synn Vyle: No idea.

Minbrein: Beats me.

Minimallian Dollar (or better make it "Min"): Somewhere on Earth... I hope.

Scuzonia: Can we puhh-leeze get going!

Mulron: Stop whining, Scuzonia!

Scuzonia: I'm not whaineeeng! Leeets goww!

Mulron: But where? and why?.. life has somehow lost sense for me... like the world is a theater, people are actors, and the author is an asshole who cant even put together a decent storyline...

Scuzonia: We must find a way to contact the fleet before micronian forces find us and kill us!

Everyone: What fleet?

Scuzonia: Just fix the damn van will you!!

Finally they start working. A minute of silence...

Ban Coxon: I REMEMBER! I REMEMBER! IT'S MAX STERLING!!

Everyone: Shut up, dumbass.

MEANWHILE

Pipe-smoking man, looking through massive binoculars: Ah, there you are, my adversaries... a smart disguise, but it will take more than that to fool me...

Redneck: It aint nuthin' but a bunch of naked folks, sonny.

Pipe-smoking man, still looking: Yes, they're pretending to be ordinary nudists, but I know an alien when I see one...

Redneck: Ah reckon that guy's just a Jew... or one of em Arabs... got stuff like that all'e time, ya know.

Pipe-smoking man, unable to look away: You've got a point... but this still needs a detailed inspection.

They watch until the nudists wander out of sight

Pipe-smoking man: I knew I should've bought a Zeiss...

A payphone by the road rings.

Pipe-smoking man, picking it up: Yes. What? We've raced all the way to the western coast, and they've been sitting back there in Nebraska under our very noses!

Redneck: Yeah, ya shoore scroowed it up.

Pipe-smoking man, into the phone: I want the Gayma assault team there immediately! Take the hippies alive! Yes, you may shoot the infiltrators... yes, you may use them as fishbait... yes, live fishbait... yes... yes... no. You can't do that. And remind me to take you to a psychiatrist after the operation. Bye. [hangs up]

SDF-1

Roy Facker: Hello? Hello?.. [slams the phone down] Can you facking imagine this? Said "bye" and hang up on me!

Rick Bummer: Yeah, what a bitch.

Roy Facker: That was the Captain, stupid.

Rick Bummer: Bummer. I thought it was Claudia.

Roy: You.. called... Claudia... a bitch?!

Rick: H-hey, l-let go that g-gun Roy... I'm s-sorry...

Roy: Too facking late to be sorry.

Rick: B-bumm-mer.

Gunshot.

Roy: Sorry for ruining your uniform, pal... it's all RED MWA-HA-HA-HA!!

THAT NIGHT

NEBRASKA. NEAR THE ROAD

The gang is gathered around a campfire, roasting something. All except Synn Vyle, who's still trying to fix the van.

Minbrein: Mmm-mmm, what's that yummy smell?

Mulron: We're roasting something delicious here!

Min Dollar: How would you like it, Vyle - tender, well done, or extra crispy?.. Oh how silly of me to forget - you're busy fixing the van!

Mulron: I guess you won't be enjoying supper with us tonight... not until you get the job done!

Minbrein: And when you will - it might happend that we ate everything...

Min Dollar: Every last nutritious drop of it!.. Poor, poor Vyle...

Scuzonia: What are you roasting, anyway?

Min Dollar: Well, it's a desert rat.

Synn Vyle: Ah-hah-hah-hah-ha!! Oh thank you, alien woman with a weird name, thank you for making the torture stop! [proceeds to embrace Scuzonia]

Mulron: Hey!

Scuzonia: It's the micronian way of thanking. Now beat it, Mulron.

Synn Vyle: Yes, eat your rat, and allow others to engage in spiritual pleasures! [to Scuzonia] Look at the stars baby... they sing about it... tonight's a night for love... [tries to kiss Scuzonia]

Mulron, pissed off: Now I'm pissed off! You stole my line, bastard! [jerks Scuzonia away from Vyle and tries to kiss her himself]

Scuzonia: I guess today's my lucky day. [sighs] Get your hands off me, Mulron.

Mulron: But why? It's such a romantic night... look at the stars and stuff...

Scuzonia: I know, I know. But my destiny lies elsewhere. Can't argue with fate, Mulron.

Mulron: Duh. Oh well, there's always Minbr... [turns around to see that Minbrein and Vyle have... retired into the van] Crap.

Scuzonia: You're cursed too eh... well, lets just sit here and admire the silent moonlit desert... the whispering will-o-the-wisps... the soft warm breeze... you know, perhaps this is heaven...

Ban Coxon: HEY, DID YOU HEAR THE ONE ABOUT A HOOKER AND AN OLD HAIRDRESSER?! LAUGH YER ASS OFF!!

Mulron: Sounds more like hell to me, Zana.

SDF-1 FLIGHT DECK

Roy Facker paces back and forth across the deck, trying to make an inspirational speech

Roy: Comrades! We've been awarded with a very responsible task! The fack err fate of the Earth is in our hands! And we shall not fack up mmm fail mankind!... hey, hurry up, will ya!

Rick Bummer, washing his uniform: Next time you decide to play paintball, warn me so I can dress in that rubber suit. Helluvalot easier to wash.

Roy: Next time dont facking provoke me into using my paint gun!.. wait. We dont have a rubber suit.

Rick: Well, you know, that stretchy rubber thingy...

Roy: Wha?.. oh, so that's why people talk about The Condom Monster visiting them at night!.. well, so much the better - I have only one psycho on board instead of the whole facking crew going nuts.

Rick: Wow, a psycho. Who is it this time?

Roy: It's you, dumbass.

Rick: Me? I'm perfectly sane. Look, would a madman be washing his clothes when the fate of the Earth is in his hands?

Roy: Would a normal pilot dress in a condom and wander around people's bedrooms every night?

Rick: Not if he's a total whacko... oh. I see your point.

Roy: At last we have a breakthrough.

Rick: Just a sec. Look at this from a different angle. What if you're the Condom Monster, and are trying to frame me by using my favourite rubber suit?

Roy: But I'm not!

Rick: You're just refusing to accept the idea. It's all in the subconsciousness, you see. Have you ever been molested as a child?

Roy: NO!.. I mean, what made you think so?

Rick: Childhood shocks usually have a drastic effect on a person's psyche.

Roy: Erm... listen, Rick... how bout we forget about all this condom stuff, okay?.. Let's just go kick some alien ass!!

Rick: Okay, if you'll finish washing my uniform.

Roy: Doh... all right.

Roy starts washing

Roy: Hmm, I don't remeber using yellow paint...

AT DAWN

A ROAD

The hippie-van, apparently repaired, tries to climb a slope, and fails miserably.

Scuzonia: Let's all cheer for our Repairmaster.

Synn Vyle: Wasn't my fault, I wasted a whole day trying to fix the damn thing.

Scuzonia: You could've wasted the night as well, instead of going out with Minbrein.

Synn Vyle: Shut up, sourpuss.

Scuzonia: How dare you!.. Mulron, aren't you going to kick his ass?..

Mulron: Nope.

Scuzonia: Why?

Mulron: Because he said the truth.

Scuzonia: But you hate the truth!

Mulron: Then because he's stronger and knows martial arts.  [pause] Dont look at me like that, didn't you see his latest movie?

Scuzonia: No, did you?

Mulron: No, but it doesnt make him less dangerous! Now shut up!

Scuzonia: Gah! [to Minbrein] Hey slut, why is everyone so rude around here?

Minbrein, eating pudding: How 'e 'uck 'ould I 'now!? [swallows] Perhaps due to established stereotypes and male superiority complex?

Synn Vyle: Close your pie-hole... shit-for-brains.

Min Dollar: Now, now, Synn, don't be aggressive! After all, they're only inferior females whose sole purpose is childbirth and housecare.

Silence

Mulron: Uhh... you didn't want to say that. You see, my partner here...

Scuzonia: I WILL KILL EVERY MOTHERFUCKING LAST ONE OF YA!!!

Mulron: ...has a slight problem with arrogant males.

Suzonia holds all males at gunpoint

Min D: Why didn't you warn us before, dammit?

Mulron: I can be stupid sometimes. Ever since my head's been hit by a projectile at the age of three.

Synn Vyle: Whoa, you were in Nam?

Mulron: Eh? Uhh, sorta.

Synn Vyle: Did you have a rollercoaster?

Min D: Oh quit bullshitting, Synn. [to Mulron] He knows of Viet Nam from a cartoon.

Mulron: "Cartoon"? well, you must be a specialist then, Synn...

Synn Vyle: Hell yes! I remember we went to the luna-park and sarge...

Scuzonia: HEY pigs, I'm going to execute you now, so quit babbling and meet death with warrior dignity!

Mulron, falling on his knees: No, no, please don't! [whispers] Act pitiful, guys!

Guys start playing chicken

Synn Vyle: We surrender!

Min D: Nicht schiessen! Ne strelyai! Wao mao shao bao!

Synn Vyle: What the hell was that?

Min D: Uh, just a song I like.

Scuzonia: I see you don't deserve to die like warriors.

Mulron: Yes!

Scuzonia: So I will merely shoot off your legs and leave you here to die like maggots. Slow and painful.

Mulron: Damn, I always forget about that part....

Scuzonia starts pulling the trigger... she pulls.... and pulls.... and pullls......

Minbrein: Wait!

Scuzonia: What is it? [tries to fix the trigger]

Minbrein: If you kill them, who will make love to me?.. [looks at Scuzonia] Although I always wanted to experiment a little.... here, let me fix that.

Scuzonia: No, wait...

Minbrein twists the trigger and the blaster goes off. Burning the hippie van.

Synn Vyle: The butthead does it again! Now we're all gonna die!

Scuzonia, slapping Minbrein: Never touch that! Never! Never!

Minbrein: Waaaah!

Scuzonia: SHUT UP! [to the guys] Thank you for showing me that women can be as stupid and ignorant as men.

Min D, smiling: Dont mention it, toots.

Scuzonia: So she wont get any water from my canteen, just like you.

Synn Vyle: Wha?..

Mulron: We're gonna die of thirst. Slow and painful.

Synn Vyle: Whoa, that's a news flash!

COMMERCIAL BREAK

TV BROADCAST STATION

Announcer: ...tman and Robin", AKA The Stupidest Movie Ever, regretfully will be back after these important messages. [switches his mic off] Hit it, guys.

Mulron: Aliens everywhere! Slaying and mu... muu... uhh...  mutilating the noblest, gentlest creatures of Earth - cows!

Scuzonia: You think this guy is nuts? Me too. But, though usually a sceptic [Mulron: A what?] I must admit that 133 glasses of milk every day in front of a TV will give you enough calcium to freeze your joints  so that you will have to watch even the dumbest shows and sickest advertisements! So...

Mulron: Milk Sucks!!

Scuzonia: Right!!

Together: Screw the Mustache!! [background music - ta-da!]

Silence

Announcer:  You get payed for that?

Mulron: No, we work for food. Stuck on Earth, you see.

Announcer: I see.

Scuzonia: It would've been great if only  he read micronian better.

Announcer: Perhaps.

Mulron: We're starving. Like... got milk?

Announcer: Hoo boy.