Scene 1. A small studio in Northern Hollywood.
Mike: Hey, what's with this? We're supposed to be live in a half hour and what... no cocaine? no weed? We're not even catered?
Kurt: Ze studio ist almost ready. Ve shall take care of ze caterers then.
Abe: Pipe you down, you irritating sheketz. Mike, we've got food coming. I don't have any cocaine, but check this out (opens his palm after rummaging in pocket).
Mike: (doubtful) A day-old chunk of Mexican hashish?
Abe: Eh, don't be meshuggah! It's the best of Mexico. (Goes into bathroom/closet) Help me get this piping loose so we can smoke it!
Mike: OK.
Kurt: Ve haf less zan twenty minutes before ze uplink...
Scene 2. Behind the studio, in a weed-overgrown alley.
Abe: ...and garlic bread, wonderful! What do I owe you?
Delivery person: (stoned, nearly incoherent) "Eighty-seven (mumble) ninety-five"
Abe: Here's $100! Have a good one.
Delivery person: Oh wow gee thanks man this is fab.
Abe: Now help me get this FOOD inside...
Scene 3. Inside the studio.
Kurt: Ve haf less than fife minutes before showtime...
Mike: Goddamnit, I'm at my lowest point yet. My girlfriend's a crack whore, everyone at my day job is a wigger, and man I haven't had a blowjob in six years... and we don't have anything here, no drugs 'cept this Mexican horse turd with hashish in it, and not even a company meal!
Kurt: Ve haf zome 'C-rats' in ze control room... (rummages).. fresh until 1947... vell zey always underestimate ze freshness, eh?
Mike: Gross.
Abe: Mike! Get ready! We have food here.
Mike: FOOD? No way... a real meal.
Abe: Yes. It's on the company.
Delivery person: Wow thanks man this is great, thanks for the tip, see you guys again!
(Door closes.)
Mike: How'd you pay him?
Abe: My uncle has a novelty story in Haifa. I gave him one of the commemorative "Ariel Sharon" $100 bills... he's going to go try to buy weed with it.
(Outside: gunshot.)
Abe: We'll need a new caterer next week. What're we reviewing this week?
Mike: (Reading from CD spines while half-eyeing the food) We've got the new Opeth, and uh the new Vader, and uh the stuff the bosses want us to cover, Slipknot and Hoobastank and the new Korn "Live in Buchenwald" bootleg...
Abe: Give me that! We can't announce this on the air. He flings it back into the rear recesses of the studio, where a crash and a cry is heard.
Mike: What the fuck was that?
Kurt: Ze studio is not makink money, so ve rent ze back room to zome immigrants from Honduras...
(From rear of studio) Voice: Chinga tu madre! Chupa mi chorizo! Tu madre as una 'she-male'!
Abe: Fuck your mother too, lawn-boy.
Kurt: Ze racism is a very bad think... we Germans know zis well. Heil Clinton!
Mike: Shut up you ingrate... Abe, check this out. Real garlic bread! (bites in)
Abe: Yeah, and some of the best pasta sauce in town... hope they find a new delivery guy. What's our script like?
Mike: Script?
Abe: Yeah, you were going to cook one up.
Mike: (mouth full) I was just gunna talk about the CDs, then we've got the advertiser list...
Abe: We should throw in some local news too... about metal or something... and we can put in the bands there that Sterling-McFaddish wants us to run.
Mike: Ooomph! Muuurrggh! (mouthful)
Kurt: Ve haf twenty seconds left...
Abe: Shit, we'd better think of something... look at this melted Mozzarrella!
Mike: This deep dish pizza is my kind of thing. Did they send us Cokes?
Abe: (rummaging under table) Yeah, they're here somewhere...
Kurt: We are life...!
Mike: (pale) Live?
Abe: Crap, this isn't a rebroadcast...
Mike: Welcome to another broadcast of Meal Maniacs... this week, we're going to cover the difference between Opeth and Slipknot.
Abe: What?! You Fag! Cut!!
Kurt: We are life... cannot cut ze scene...
Mike: Anyway, as I was saying, in metal, we're known for having our diversity straight. It's amazing to me that bands like Opeth and Slipknot can coexist in a genre with say, Blood or Pathologist...
Abe: Who? They're not on the advertisers list.
Mike: ...but it seems to happen all the time. This week, we're going to look in depth at some of the new metal out there, and then roll some video clips from our featured bands. First is Opeth, with uh, their new CD, which is a lot like their uh last CD, but has more of a horns section and a flute player.
Abe: Something's wrong.
Mike: Where's the CD?
Abe: They were right here, next to the food... wow, did we eat all of that?
Mike: Yeah. I think I accidentally chewed through the pizza box also...
Abe: Tell me you didn't eat the new Opeth. That was our last promo.
Mike: (turning green)
Kurt: Ze ink ist no goot for your health Mike...
Abe: Shut up ya Kraut. Never forget! Yagh!
Mike: Anyway, we seem to be missing the new Opeth, but we've got the new Slipknot right here. It's called, uhm, shit, I can't read the title.
Abe: What's wrong?
Mike: (attempts to remove pasta sauce from front of CD with a finger)
Abe: It's called the new Slipknot CD.
Mike: Anyway, this one's great, and it's a lot like the last one, just like the Opeth CD is a lot like the last one. And both of them now have the former flute players from Emperor and Dimmu Borgir.
Abe: You okay there Mike? You look a little winded.
Mike: Must...find...bathroom.
(Stumbles into bathroom/closet. An immense shitting noise is heard.)
Abe: OK, that leaves just one of our new CDs before we run the videos... christ, what is this thing called? It's covered in garlic butter and I can't read it. Let's pop it in the player.
Kurt: zat ees not ze best idea...
(CD player begins whirring and smoking.)
Abe: Shit! I fucked up. The garlic butter and pasta sauce on that thing is fucking up the CD player! And I'm not supposed to say "fuck" or "shit" on the air! Shit!
Kurt: no surprise it is destroying ze CD player...
Abe: Shut up you Kraut! Mike! I need your help!
(Bathroom door swings wide to reveal Mike in undershorts with toilet paper trailing out of them, a bottle of Lubriderm in one hand and a "Best of Chickenhawk 1997" magazine in the other.)
Mike: What did you fuck up now, you Kazar?
Abe: It's the CD player... it's...
Mike: Christ. (reaches for flush handle)
Abe: NO!!!!
(Mike presses flush lever, at which point the toilet with a tremendous WHOOOSH! ejects its contents through the trap into the pipe... which had been removed to make an impromptu bong earlier. Blackish, foul water floods the studio and the toilet jams in place, spraying filthy water across the equipment, personnel and walls of the studio.)
Kurt: Disgusting... like ze Allied camps in Zuruch.
Abe: FUCK!!! What do we do now?
Mike: (fighting with smoking CD player) Kurt, roll the videos!
Kurt: Yess, that ist zis button right here--
(Gigantic electrical explosion. Screams are heard from outside the studio, a giant burst of electricity courses through everyone present, and then there is silence and the stench of feces, smoke, and (faintly) garlic bread. The door bursts open.)
Cop #1: What the fuck happened here?
Mike: It was an accident, officer. I swear. I just flushed.
Abe: I'm half dead... (groans)
Cop #2: These drug addicts keep getting heftier everyday. We'd better call for backup or we'll never get these two fatties into the squad car.
Abe: (faints dead away)
Mike: Abe, tell them we're insured... (sees Abe unconscious) Oh.
Kurt: Ze studio is on ze line...
Mike: Gimme.
Voice on phone: That was fucking excellent! The kids love it! It's better than MTV's jackass! You guys are great! When can we get the next episode?
Mike: Wow, cool. Hey, here's someone you need to talk to. Hands phone to Cop #1.
Cop #1: Hello? No, this is not the hair dresser...
Cop #2: So you boys made a bit of a mess.
Mike: It's okay. We're entertainers, like Glen Benton says.
Cop #2: Who? Are you guys in the music biz or something?
Mike: Yeah, we're metalheads.
Cop #2: That explains your size anyway...
Cop #1: I'm not the engineer either... who the hell is this? Oh hello, Mr. McFaddish.
(Radio crackles to life: 'There's a triple homicide involving sex toys at La Cienaga and Main... calling all units...')
Abe: Wha...? (coming to consciousness)
Cop #1: It's for you. (Hands phone to Abe.)
Cop #2: Calling all cars? Crap, that's us. Gotta jet...
Cop #1: We'll catch the forger later.
Mike: Forger?
Cop #2: Yeah, some schmoe's been forging $100 bills and giving them to kids to buy drugs... dealers don't like it. We've got a couple on ice already.
Abe: On... ice?
Cop #1: Yeah, in the morgue. Where the city workers fuck 'em.
Kurt: Ze tape unit is starting to smoke...
(Phone rings. Mike answers.)
Mike: Delivery? No, we ain't got no food delivered here... can you call the fire department?
[ End. ]