Episode: 612- STARFIGHTERS

(transcribed by "T. Edward Abbott, the pop tart thief")

(Crow is in front of his computer. He has a phone next to him and its on speaker, over the phone we hear "on hold for tech service" music. Crow is leaning over the phone.)

Crow: Twenty-four hour technical service?!? It'll take ya' twenty-four hours just to pick up the stupid phone! Jeez! (Goes to the computer and begins to type.)

Crow: Allright, let's try a couple of things here...

(He mumbles to himself as he types. After about seven seconds of typing he begins to sway to the elevator music playing on the phone, catching himself doing this, he walks over to the phone.)

Crow: Come on, come on. Pick up! One... two... three... pick up! Pick up! I know you're there. Put down the donut, put down the coffee, and pick up the phone! Pick it up, and help me, help me please! Come on. Come on. Come on. (He begins to wine.) I'm going to be a very (inaudible)-

(An automated voice picks up on the customer service line)

Voice: Hello, and thank you for calling technical support.

Crow (Excited): Oh, hi! Nice to talk to a real person. Listen I'm trying to get on-

Voice (interrupting): Your call is very important to us and will be answered in the order that it was received. (Crow begins to sob.)

Crow: No, no please, don't hang up. I wanna get on the information superhighway!

(Cut to Deep 13, where Dr. F. and Frank have their heads connected by wires.)

Dr. F: Yo-ho boobies! Lookie what we got! We got cranial ports. You know, the future belongs to those-

(Cut back to the SOL and a tight shot on Mike's face, holding up a bottle of sauce with the label; "BOLD Cowboy Mike's RICOCHET BARBECUE SAUCE" Zoom out to see Tom, Crow, and Mike all wearing cowboy hats and Crow sporting a handle bar moustache.)

Mike: Now, hold on there partner! 'Cause we got sauce. Barbecue sauce!

Crow: Yes siree! It Cowboy Mike's own, original, red-hot, Richoche-e-e-e-t (sound of gunshots and Tom's hat flies off his head) Barbecue Sauce!

(Cut to Deep 13)

Dr. F: Barbecue Sauce? But look what we've got. (He points to the cranial ports. Frank runs up to Clay.)

Frank: But Clay, do think it might be...bold? (Both appear excited at the prospect)

(Cut to SOL)

Mike: Bold!?! Well, hell yes, it's bold! It's Cowboy Mike's own, original, red-hot, ricoche-e-t (again, sound of gunshot, and this time Crow's hat flies off.) Barbecue sauce!

Tom: It's mighty bold! How bold is it? It's bold enough to bulldog your taste buds and hog-tie your tongue!

Crow: That's how bold this stuff is, ya little priss ant! I say it's bo-o-o-o-old!

(Cut to Deep 13; Frank and Dr. F are clearly excited at the prospect of bold sauce.)

Frank: Well, how 'bout it Clay? Can we try some?

Dr. F: Well, I don't know...

Frank: They say it's bold.

(Cut to SOL)

Mike: I'll tell you what, you hair dressing little cowpokes, you check the umbiliport and you'll find yourself a free sample of Cowboy Mike's Own, Original, red-hot (gunshots again and all of their hats fly off) Richoche-e-e-e-t Barbecue Sauce.

Crow: It's bold!

(Cut to Deep 13. Dr F. has bottle of sauce, Frank's leering over him.)

Dr. F: Hmm, it looks, somewhat bold. Speaking of which, saucy ones, your movie today is called Starfighters, a bold airforce epic. (tastes sauce)

Frank: Well, how 'bout it, Clay? Is it bold?

Dr. F: It's (look disappointed) actually it's not that bold.

Frank: It's not?!?

Dr. F: No.

Frank: It's not bold!

Dr. F: Decidedly unbold. (To Mike) Hey, what's the deal with this stuff not being bold?

(Cut to SOL)

Mike: Now available in new EXTRA BOLD!!

Tom: Ohh, this is really bold. So bold it is not recommended for human consumption.

Crow: There is no known antidote for new....

Tom, Mike and Crow (in unison): Cowboy Mike's own, original, red-hot richoche-e-e-e-et (gunfire, and everyone's hats fly off) Barbecue Sauce!

(Movie sign lights and klaxons go off)

All: Movie sign!