Tag Archives: Forever Repressed

Forever Repressed: The True Meaning of Flag Day

Scene I
(Outside One Government Center, Downtown Toledo. Monday, 10 A. M., June 9th.)

(Mayor Jack Ford walks up to One Gov’t Center. Ugly Little Harvey sits outside:

Ugly Little Harvey: Mistah Mayah?

Mayor Jack Ford: Yes, little dude, what is it?

Ugly Little Harvey: Um, I have a question.

Mayor Jack Ford: Go for it, big fella.

Ugly Little Harvey: Ok… um… big fella?

Mayor Jack Ford: Yep.

Ugly Little Harvey: But… you said I was a little dude!

Mayor Jack Ford: You sure are!

Ugly Little Harvey: Yeah, ok. Anyways, I was wondering what the true meaning of Flag Day was?

Mayor Jack Ford: Of what?

Ugly Little Harvey: Flag Day.

Mayor Jack Ford: Hmm. (Pauses.) When is that?

Ugly Little Harvey: It’s this Saturday. June 14th.

Mayor Jack Ford: Isn’t that Bastille Day?

Ugly Little Harvey: No, that’s July 14th.

Mayor Jack Ford: Huh. (Walks in.)

Ugly Little Harvey: Stupid new mayor. At least Carty would have indulged me with a nonsensical explanation.

Scene II
(10:30 A. M. Ugly Little Harvey walks down Madison Ave and by an alley.

Voice: Psst. Kid.

Ugly Little Harvey: Um, who is it?

Voice: You have come to find the true meaning of Flag Day.

Ugly Little Harvey: Um, yes…

Voice: Come into the alley.

(Ugly Little Harvey timidly walks in.)

Fragrant Drifter: Kid, you have come in search for the meaning of Flag Day.

Ugly Little Harvey: Oh yes! I want to know what it means.

Fragrant Drifter: Then tell me this… can you guess what cologne I’m wearing?

Ugly Little Harvey: Um.. gosh mistah, I really don’t know.

Fragrant Drifter: Did you say “Tommy?”

Ugly Little Harvey: Um.. sure. That’s what I said.

Fragrant Drifter: Nope. It’s “About Eighty Car Fresheners” by Mr. Goodwrench.

Ugly Little Harvey: Ok, what does this have to do with Flag Day?

Fragrant Drifter: What’d you call me?

Ugly Little Harvey: Um, nothing?

Fragrant Drifter: That’s right nothing. Now, about Arbor Day

Ugly Little Harvey: NO! Flag Day!

Fragrant Drifter: Ah yes. I was told about this day as a kid. Frankly I think people have lost their way when it comes to this fine holiday.

Ugly Little Harvey: But mistah, what does it all mean?

Fragrant Drifter: Well, many people remember Flag Day as the day I lost my arms.

Ugly Little Harvey: But… mistah, your arms are right there.

Fragrant Drifter: That’s right. And I found them on Columbus Day.

Ugly Little Harvey: Observed?

Fragrant Drifter: Yeah, not only did I observe them, I picked them up and sewed them on myself.

Ugly Little Harvey: No, I meant Columbus Day.

Fragrant Drifter: What’s Columbus Day?

Ugly Little Harvey: You have the memory of John Madden. I’m leaving.

Fragrant Drifter: Ok, bring back some more car fresheners. And close the door! You’ll let all the heat out of my foyer!

Scene III
(Year 2093. Ugly Little Harvey is now an ugly old man, reminiscing on his past experiences with Flag Day.)

Ugly Little Harvey: BAH! What a fake holiday. Flag Day is too commercial these days. Ruined by Hallmark and Scary Movie 8. Flag Day brings up too many painful memories, just like Haley Joel Osment’s shooting spree or the Olsen’ twins eight marriages. I never trust holidays again. Especially not this one. The only one I enjoy is Bastille Day. Too bad France isn’t around anymore. They replaced it with a big Wal-Mart. I worked there once. In fact, I still work there, at the door. Good selection of berets. Well, my mailman, George W. Bush IV is here with my erotic literature.

(Ugly Little Harvey falls over, along with curtain.)

Forever Repressed: Zero Fluid Motions

Speed Racer: What a crappy day. I think I’ll go back inside. (Walks inside.)

Mr. Game & Watch: Hey bud, you’re walking like me.

Speed Racer: So?

Mr. Game & Watch: That’s my bit! That’s how I walk in Super Smash Bros. Melee!

(Mr. Game & Watch hits the B Button and flips bacon in Speed Racer’s face)

Speed Racer: Ouch! That’s greasy!

(Speed Racer gets in his Mach 5 car)

Speed Racer: IT’S ON!

(Meanwhile, in Hell…)

One-legged Squirrel: Another play with a car? I’ll sit this one out.

Satan: Hey, I’m not slave-driving you to talk.

(Meanwhile, back in the unspecified setting…)

Mr. Game & Watch: You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry!

(Mr. Game & Watch turns red by hitting the Y button before the match.)

John Tesh: This calls for some quality fightin’ music. You two just get it on, and I’ll take care of the tunes.

(Speed Racer and Mr. Game & Watch stare one another down.)

Speed Racer: Are you ready?

Mr. Game & Watch: Let’s get this over with.

(Speed Racer runs over John Tesh. Mr. Game & Watch makes John Tesh fly off the screen with his smash hammer [B Button].)

Speed Racer: That felt good. Now, I must leave. I have a race.

Mr. Game & Watch: And I’m a guest on Carson Daly’s show.

Forever Repressed: Dog in My Way, Part I

Sophie: You haven’t given me a speaking part in over a year.

Sussman: I haven’t written in over a year.

Sophie: Bullshit. Pet me.

Sussman: Why would I want to do that?

Sophie: Either pet me or I urinate in your shoes.

Sussman: No way, those are my shoes! (Pets Sophie.)

Sophie: Yes, that’s right. That’s where the money is.

(Sussman stops petting Sophie.)

Sophie: What the hell?

Sussman: I want to watch TV.

Sophie: Keep petting me!

Sussman: No, I want to watch some TV.

Sophie: Fine, turn it to American Idol. I love watching that British judge, Simon, make fun of the bad singers.

Sussman: We’re not watching American Idol. We’re watching the NBA Playoffs.

Sophie: That sucks.

Sussman: You suck!

The 2002-03 Cleveland Cavaliers: We suck!

Sophie: Get your candy asses out of here. Come back when you draft LeBron James.

Sussman: That ain’t gonna happen. Memphis is gonna draft LeBron.

Sophie: You callin’ me a liar, bitch?

Sussman: No, I’m callin’ you a BITCH, LIAR!

Sophie: That’s it. Get down on your knees and rub my tummy!

Sussman: Ew, no. I don’t go on the floor. That’s where you live.

Sophie: Come down to my house so I can kick your pasty white ass!

Simon, the British judge: Sophie, I think you have what it takes to be the next order of Chinese food.

Sussman: Exactly as I thought. Take ’em away, Yao.

Yao Ming: (Bumps head on ceiling.)

(Note: No Cavaliers won any basketball games in the making of this film.)

Forever Repressed: Apocalypse Eventually

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: I’m tired. I think I’ll stop working.

Car Battery: Now I can retire. The best years are ahead of me! (Dies.)

Bob Hope: That’s why I’m not retiring.

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: I was driven around by a very hairy kid for three and a half years. Time to rest on the driveway and do nothing.

(Meanwhile…)

One-legged Squirrel: Life isn’t as great with just one leg.

One-legged Starfish: Well, you only lost one leg.

One-legged Squirrel: So?

One-legged Starfish: I lost four of mine to a jet ski.

One-legged Squirrel: Um… can’t you grow legs back?

One-legged Starfish: Yeah, but it’s hard. Plus I’m in a union.

One-legged Squirrel: Ahhh. So you let management worry about it.

One-legged Starfish: Basically. It’s great to be a well paid echinoderm.

One-legged Squirrel: Hey, my best girl is late. Where do you suppose she is?

Flattened Two-legged Female Squirrel: AACK!

One-legged Squirrel: Oh no, my girlfriend! She has two legs, but she’s flattened!

One-legged Starfish: That would make sense, given her name in the script.

One-legged Squirrel: I will not let you be forgotten! Someone must pay!

One-legged Starfish: Yeah, probably the car that ran her over.

One-legged Squirrel: Perhaps, but it’s faster than me, and it’s already gone. I shall take my anger out on a parked car of the same color.

One-legged Starfish: What color was it?

One-legged Squirrel: How should I know? (Looks around frantically.) There’s a white one. Let’s get it.

(One-legged Squirrel meanders its way towards 1994 Pontiac Grand Prix.)

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Do you hear something, garage door?

Garage Door: (Says nothing. It’s just a normal garage door.)

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Oh, of all the inanimate objects to not have a speaking part… it sure is lonely here. And I’m pretty sure

something’s coming up from behind me.

One-legged Squirrel: It’s me! One of your kind ran over my girlfriend! And since he got away, I’m taking this out on you!

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Who’s saying that? I can’t look behind me.

(Ten minutes later…)

One-legged Squirrel: There’s no escape!

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Holy shit, for a raging lunatic of a squirrel, you sure are slow!

One-legged Squirrel: In the land of dead car batteries, the squirrel with one limb is king!

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Well, I didn’t vote for you.

Pat Buchanan: I did.

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: In that case, would you mind giving me a push?

Pat Buchanan: Depends. Will you vote for me in the next election?

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Not on purpose, but hey, you might get lucky again.

Pat Buchanan: Good enough for me.

(Pat Buchanan pushes 1994 Pontiac Grand Prix towards One-legged Squirrel.)

One-legged Squirrel: Uh-oh! Now the car is moving as fast as me, but in the opposite direction! This is one math problem I don’t want to figure out!

Pat Buchanan: Excellent! He’s trying to turn around!

(One-legged Squirrel attempts to turn around, but since he has one leg, it’s really hard.)

One-legged Squirrel: Egads! I will be run over again!

Squirrel in a Wheelchair: Not if I can help it!

(Squirrel in a Wheelchair comes to the rescue, pulls One-legged Squirrel onto his wheelchair.)

One-legged Squirrel: I’m saved!

Squirrel in a Wheelchair: Now we roll to safety!

(Squirrel in a Wheelchair rolls out to the street, only to get run over by a Segway.)

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Keep pushing! We’re almost there!

Pat Buchanan: We already got him.

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: Well I don’t see him.

Pat Buchanan: We went for that Y-shaped twig, right?

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: I don’t think so…

Pat Buchanan: How about that ant hill?

1994 Pontiac Grand Prix: I really don’t know. It could have been. I need to hear it to know for sure.

Pat Buchanan: I’m tired. I better stop pushing. (Stops pushing.)

One-legged Starfish: GET… OFF… ME!!!

Forever Repressed: The Name Game

Nuke Laloosh: The minors blow.

Coco Crisp: Hey, they’re not THAT bad.

Nuke Laloosh: You’d say that. Just look at your name!

Coco Crisp: Whatever you say, “Nuke.” Weren’t you mentored by a guy named Crash?

Nuke Laloosh: Good point.

Stubby Clapp: I once played in a major league game.

Catfish Hunter: Yeah? Well I’m in the Hall of Fame.

Dizzy Dean: And we’re all white.

Coco Crisp: Not me!

Milton Bradley: Or me.

Andruw Jones: The three of us all play center field, we do.

Greg Olson: I was a catcher.

Gregg Olson: I was a pitcher.

Dizzy Dean: Yikes, so many people. This is making me dizzy.

Catfish Hunter: Where’s Yogi?

Yogi Berra: Sorry, this is the earliest I’ve ever been late. (Steals pic-a-nic basket.)

Todd Jones: You guys are all weird.

Forever Repressed: The Last Action Torso

Stanley Steemer: What a dirty carpet. I better get to work.

(Stanley Steemer begins cleaning the carpet.)

(The Farting Mime farts on the carpet)

Stanley Steemer: Oh, come on! I was just done cleaning that!

(The Farting Mime plays the world’s smallest violin)

Stanley Steemer: You’ll never get away with this!

(The Farting Mime points to the Orkin Man, dead as a doornail underneath a parked Kia Spectra)

Stanley Steemer: You ran over the Orkin Man with a Kia Sephia? Man, that’s embarrassing.

Geo Tracker: Well, at least it took the attention away from me.

Stanley Steemer: Only one person can save the day!

(The Farting Mime shakes head in disagreement)

A Voice: I’m here to stop this!

Stanley Steemer: Could it be! It is! It’s Vin Diesel’s Chest!

Vin Diesel’s Chest: That’s right. Now what’s the problem?

(The Farting Mime Lets out a juicy one right on the Oriental rug)

Stanley Steemer: Help us, Vin Diesel’s Chest! He’s farting on the rug that I just cleaned.

Vin Diesel’s Chest: Well, I’ll just have to put a stop to this using my impeccable pecs.

(The Farting Mime Pretends to be trapped in a box)

Vin Diesel’s Chest: Shoot. He’s in a box. How am I going to get to him now?

Geo Tracker: Smoke him out.

Tommy Chong: I’m way ahead of you, man.

(Invisible box fills up with smoke, The Farting Mime busts out of the box.)

Vin Diesel’s Chest: It worked. Now come and get me, you mute freak.

(The Farting Mime Farts right into Vin Diesel’s Chest)

Vin Diesel’s Chest: Do you think that’s going to work? I don’t have a nose.

Tommy Chong: Wow, weird man. He’s like, got no face.

(The Farting Mime Makes a gasping face, then runs away.)

Geo Tracker: I’ll take it from here.

(Geo Tracker Opens driver’s side door)

(The Farting Mime gets in, tries to start the car, but the car explodes.)

Vin Diesel’s Chest: Well, shoot. If I was closer to the explosion, I would jump out of the way just so the camera could get a slo-mo of my massive chest muscles.

Stanley Steemer: You saved the day! But why did the car explode?

Unabomber: I think it was a terrorist.

(Vin Diesel’s Chest floats away heroically, girls faint in their seats.)