<> <> [OPEN ON: Theater, the gang contiues riffing.] >Hannibal mumbled thoughtfully. > SCRATCH (Muttly): Murgle-burgle-gurgle Rick Rastardly! >"I mean, I'll feel like I'm at a damn cattle call. GYPSY: Nonsense! Now stop griping and chew your cud. >We're nothing but beef on the hoof to them. PEARL: Did somebody say, mass bovicide? >Mere hunks of flesh for these horny old >broads to feast their eyes upon." > >"Sorta like a beauty pageant, huh, Face?" MADGE: Well, they're not dangling thousand dollar college scholarships as bait for the skanktrap, but... > >"Exactly. It's humiliating." > >All the while Face was complaining. SCRATCH: Oh really? I hadn't noticed. > Hannibal had been scrutinizing the >clientele as it entered and had decided that the benefits of this >unusual job just might outweigh the drawbacks. PEARL (Hannibal): I can expose myself to women, and they'll scream for a good reason! > Several of the ladies >were extremely attractive. "I don't know, Face. Maybe this job isn't >so bad after all. MADGE (Hannibal): This could be a gateway to a lucrative career in gold digging! > Men have been ogling women for centuries. >Why shouldn't the ladies get a turn?" SCRATCH (warily raising a claw): Um... because treating another human being as nothing more than an empty vessel upon which to project our own sexual needs is wrong regardless of gender? PEARL (resentfully to Scratch): Shut up! >"You can't be serious." > >The colonel locked eyes with an attractive brunette as she passed by >and followed her progress to his assigned station. GYPSY: She won't touch you, Hannibal. You're dirt. > "I think I have a >customer, Face." He grinned. "Hand me my tray." SCRATCH: Careful with that tray, Eugene! > >"Hannibal!" But the shout went unheeded. PEARL: (Hannibal, singing to himself): I'm your private dancer... dancer for money- hey! > Tom shoved a tray into the >younger man's hands and nudged him toward his assigned group of tables. GYPSY (Tom): Get out there and push those novelty drinks! Remember! They get to keep the glass! >"Ohhhh," he moaned as he moved hesitantly toward his first table. SCRATCH (Popeye): This, is embaraskin'. >"First one who laughs at me, gets it," he muttered. MADGE (Face): I'll just... stamp my foot and... and pout really hard! > >With a gulp, he approached the three woman at the end table. "Can I >get you something?" > >The redhead looked up and smiled, her eyes traveling down the length of >his body and back again before she answered. "Yes. A Tom Collins." GYPSY (introductions): Tom Collins, Rob Roy. Johnnie Walker, Harvey Wallbanger. > >Face jotted the request down and turned to the plump brunette beside >her. > >"I'd like a Pina Colada. MADGE (patron): And getting caught in the rain. I'm not much into health food. Could I get a Korbel chaser? > What's your name?" > >"Uh, Templeton Peck." > >The women erupted with squeals of delight. ALL: Wah-wah-waaaah! SCRATCH (Face, crying/whining): Go ahead, squeal! You're just lucky you're not laughing at me! > "You're the one we were told to ask for," the plump one announced. > >The redhead's eyes made the journey along his body again. "Now I see >why." PEARL (redhead): I could probably take you without taking off my heels! C'mon, get your arm up here, mama's boy! Wrassle! C'mon! > >Face squirmed, "What about you, Miss?" he asked the third member of >the group, a gray-haired woman of about fifty. > >"Just you, blue eyes. MADGE (Face): Well, blue irises, actually. The majority of my eye is the white sclera. > God, look at that chest. I just love a hairy chest, don't you, >Diane?" PEARL (woman to Face): Oh, but yours is fine too, sweetie! Don't feel bad! > >Face swallowed awkwardly, praying for a hole to open up in the floor to >claim him, or, better yet, SCRATCH: -a horde of rabid land-walking pirhanas to consume every last character in a satanic fury of gnashing teeth! > a timely entrance from Colonel Decker. SCRATCH: Eh. I like mine better. > "There's a two drink minimum," he managed to squeak out. > >"Then bring me two Vodka Gimlets," the older woman smiled. > >"Right." > >"Oh, Diane," the plump one said, "let's have our picture taken with our >waiter." PEARL: You know- establish your (cough) alibi? While your husband has that (cough) meeting? With Nick (cough) "The Plumber"? > >"Oh, no," Face started to say, but before he could back off, Diane had >clutched his arm and a camera had appeared from somewhere. MADGE: Face, relax. With a name like "Templeton Peck", you were bound to wind up here eventually anyway. SCRATCH: Here, or in a video called "The Blowed and the Beautiful". > >"Put your arm around her, gorgeous. God, wait till your husband sees >this." > >Face cringed. "Husband? No, wait...uh...uh..." > >"Come on, Templeton. Isn't that a sexy name? GYPSY: It's the rat from "Charlotte's Web"! MADGE (laughs): That's what I would have thought. > Just a quick picture. The girls back in Omaha will never believe >I've been here if I don't have a picture." SCRATCH: That indicates some underlying trust issues in your relationship, that intensive counseling could probably... not do very much about. > >Since Diane held his arm with the force of a vice grip, Face could only >agree, praying fervently that no one would ever see the shots. > >"Now smile, gorgeous." PEARL (photographer, at Face): Not you, her! >The picture session seemed to last an eternity, but somehow Face >managed to hide his discomfort and smile to placate the three women. MADGE (Face, whining): Eh, if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk to my real 80's girlfriend, Victoria Principal! She makes clothing for Sears, and has like a million billion dollars, and loves me just for being me, she does! >Mission accomplished, he grabbed the tray and made a hasty retreat for >the bar, out of sight of most of the gawking females. GYPSY (Face): OK! I need two... um, vodka Hamlets, and a Tim Robbins, and some sort of pin that's been collated. > >Safe at last, he leaned against the bar and looked at a fellow waiter >beside him. He'd only me the other man briefly at the chorus line >rehearsal, but he thought the guy's name was Mat. [All chuckle.] SCRATCH: From the way the other waiters walked all over him? PEARL: Beatty's got real name issues going on here. GYPSY: What's his first name, Foto? > "How do you stand this?" he whined. > MADGE (Matt): Well your teammates suggested I think pleasant thoughts while your mincing little voice washes past my ears like static. >Matt looked at him and smiled. "You get used to it. They're all >harmless enough. PEARL: Oh, so women aren't a threat? They're controllable, insignificant, is that what you're saying? > They want to come here and fantasize for a few >hours." > SCRATCH (Matt): Although one word from you may cure them of that. >"Fantasize?" The implications sent a new rush of color to Face's >cheeks. [All laugh.] MADGE: Whiny, stupid... Face was custom-built for the twentieth century! SCRATCH: Yeah, if Face had landed on Plymouth Rock, Squanto would have had such a great time watching him starve! > He was grateful for the low lighting. > >"Yeah. Besides I worked hard for these," he said, indicating his well >muscled torso. "This job gives me a chance to show it off." PEARL (standing, trying to rub Matt's tummy): Oooo... six-pack. Yeah, come to Pearl, Matty. GYPSY: Pearl? You realize, in real life, nobody acts like this. PEARL: Shut up, Shop Vac! MADGE: No, it's true. Public sexual posturing like this exists only within the odd world of exploitation fiction, known on the Internet as "lemons"! SCRATCH: Yup! These ridiculous interludes are created as ersatz stimulation for those sad, lonely individuals too hideously repulsive to engage in a healthy physical- (Pearl grabs Scratch by the throat) ach! PEARL: You were saying? SCRATCH (choking): Ach- it seems to have slipped my mind. PEARL (dropping Scratch): Yeah. I thought it might. > >Face nodded, a sickly grin on his face. "Wonderful." The bartender >placed the three drinks on his tray, GYPSY: But they ordered four! Well they did! Read it! >and Face was filled with dread as >he realized he'd have to face Diane and her cronies again. > MADGE (Diane Chambers): Sam. They're not cronies! They're some of the finest performance artists to be denied government funding in Boston! >Across the small but crowded club, Hannibal Smith was busy with his >own band of admirers. Once the shock of the club's true status had >worn off, and it had worn off rapidly, Hannibal had attacked his job >with gusto. SCRATCH: "Gusto" being a small Italian semi-automatic used in urban combat. > He oozed charm like a 1940's matinee idol, PEARL: But was really just a washed-up character actor. >smiling, laughing, and complimenting the ladies on >everything from their eyes to their choice of handbags. MADGE: When he started asking to try on their shoes, however, the police had to escort him off the premises. >All the undisguised admiration gave a boost to his male ego >that was akin to a heavy dose of the jazz. GYPSY (sighing): Well, we've just gone one metaphor too many here. > Hannibal was having a terrific time. > >He smiled at the two blondes he was serving. "I'll prepare your >drinks with my own hands," he drawled, seductively, and was rewarded >with delighted, appreciative smiles in return. PEARL (Hannibal, mixing drinks): OK, that's a handful of scotch, a handful of soda, splash bitters on my finger and use it to stir the drink. (licks finger) Mm, nummy! > >Sauntering back to the bar, he found a jittery Templeton Peck waiting >for him. "Hi ya, Face." SCRATCH (Face, startled): Dah- I wasn't drinkin' grenadine from the bottle! > >"Hannibal, that woman just pinched my ass." >"Really?" Hannibal said, looking back into the crowd. > MADGE: Hm. Must be near-sighted. >"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Face groused. > >The colonel shrugged. "She must like your buns." GYPSY (shudders): Ergh. This whole fanfic is like being at an adult party, and the host's ten year old kid walks in and starts telling off-color jokes, and Lori thinks it's SO cute. > With a smile worthy >of the Cheshire Cat himself, he picked up his tray leaving a miserable >Face behind. > >"I hate this job. I hate this club, I hate this costume, PEARL (Face): I hate yogurt, I hate flossing, I hate the second law of thermodynamics for not hurrying up and destroying the universe already! >I hate women...well, not all women. Just these!" Face groaned. > >"Peck," Tom called. "Put down your tray. I've got another job for >you." > >Face beamed happily. MADGE (Face): All right! Something NEW to grouse gratingly about! > "Oh, good, 'cause you know, I'm not really suited much to serving >drinks. I keep forgetting what they ordered and I never remember how >much to charge, and I'm clumsy. Real clumsy. Oh, yeah. PEARL (John Henson): It's true! SCRATCH: I've heard Urkel works endless hours refining his craft, so that one day, he might be this pathetic. > I've >dribbled so much liquor on the carpet you'll have to call Stanley >Steamer first thing in the morning." MADGE: Stanley Steamer, the wise-cracking chain-smoking clam! > >Tom wasn't moved by Face's diatribe. "You'll be selling souvenirs >until show time." > >"Souvenirs?" > >"Yeah." PEARL: So that they'll always remember this night they took the implicit bond of trust between themselves and their loved ones, and wiped their bottoms with it! GYPSY: OK, can we calm down with the attacks on the strip club patrons now? MADGE (pouting): Beatty started it. GYPSY: Well you're bigger than she is. > He placed a heavy tray in Peck's arms. "We sell T-shirts, >calendars, and G strings." SCRATCH: And short-term life insurance, for some reason. > >Face stiffened. "G strings?" > MADGE: You'd be surprised the number of busted Strats the ladies bring in. >"Red satin with little rhinestones. We take Mastercard, >Visa and American Express. GYPSY: What, no Diners Club? I thought this was a class establishment! >Now hurry. The show starts in 30 minutes." SCRATCH: Which was nearly an hour ago. > >Bemused and feeling worse than when he'd served drinks, >Face began to wind his way among the crowd. Over the PA system, he >heard Tom announcing the items that "Templeton" would be displaying >for purchase. PEARL: Skittles, ring pops, pixie stix... you know, girl candy! >Face turned a shade of green not usually associated with human beings. > MADGE: Oh, that'll be good for business. GYPSY (customer): Please, I'll give you this ten if you'll use it to see a doctor! >At 8:00, the waiters were all signaled (very subtly, to be >sure) SCRATCH (Face): Huh? What are those fireworks spelling out? A-L-L, W-A-I-T-E-R-S... >to return to the bar and take their places for the short >intro-dance that marked the beginning of the floor show. PEARL (sings Men Without Hats): We can dance if we wannooo... >Templeton Peck approached his leader with a stunned look, >dropping his nearly empty tray of souvenirs on the counter. >"These women are disgusting." GYPSY (Face): They proposed selling Chrysler stock short and spreading rumors about a government ban on SUV's! > >"How so, Face?" Hannibal asked with a look of sincere interest. > >"They should all be locked up. Imprisoned in a tower someplace. MADGE (Face): Made to do public relations for an HMO! > Do >you know how many red satin G strings I've sold tonight?" SCRATCH (Face): I'm got half a mind to run them in on a 308, "criminal possession of tasteless underwear"! >"No. How many?" the colonel asked, always ready to play the straight >man. GYPSY (daring): Anybody got any comments about that? Pearl, Madge, and Scratch mutter but let it lie. GYPSY: Good. >Face made a few unintelligible sounds. PEARL: For him, that's an improvement! > "Well, I don't know >exactly, but a lot, believe me. And most of them were sold >to married women. Do you believe that?" SCRATCH: That you checked the ring fingers of your customers? > >Hannibal nodded. "Imagine that. I'd have thought married women would >have forgotten about sex." GYPSY: Oh, they've just discovered more exciting forms of entertainment. Like "Providence"! > >Face was too upset to grasp the content of the colonel's jibe. "They >should be spanked. [All snicker.] > No wife of mine would be allowed to come to a place like this. SCRATCH: No wife of yours would be allowed to hold sharp objects! > No >sirree. She'd be home where she belonged." > >Hannibal's blue eyes twinkled, PEARL: Uh-huh. More twinkling. Right. >but his expression was serious. >"Barefoot and pregnant, right, Face?" MADGE: Well slipper-socks are a possible option, if a neutral color like grey, with slip-resistance soles. > > Face nodded emphatically at first, then frowned. "Well..." > >"Keep the little women in the kitchen, toiling over a pot of homemade >stew. PEARL (Face): What, you expect me eat that Dinty Moore crap? > She'd be there to greet you each night at the door holding your >slippers and pipe, a crisp, frilly apron tied around her girlish >waist." SCRATCH: Uh-huh. So women have two choices: hedonistic debauchery, or humiliating indentured servitude. PEARL: Well, yeah. Seems simple enough to me. What's your problem? > > Face looked a bit sheepish now, GYPSY: They're cloning him? ALL: NOOOOOOO! SCRATCH (crying): Oh please, Pearl! Make it stop! PEARL: Nope, look at it, poopy! Embrace the pain! Get stronger! [Scratch cries.] > realizing how his remarks had >sounded. "Well, not exactly like that, MADGE: She's also need a pair of enormous tah-tahs. >but..." he hedged. > >"Face," Hannibal laughed loudly, "You're a chauvinist at >heart. GYPSY: You know, I could meet a fish on a LeMond training for the Tour de France before I met a woman who needed this story. >Frankly, I think this whole set up is refreshing. >Shows me that women have a lot more passion, drive and >moxie than we men ever gave them credit for. PEARL: Huh. Amelia Earhart, Jackie Joyner, Florence Nightingale, they make no impression. Show him a couple of dozen boozed up women with hotflashes, however... > Come on, kid. It's time to dance." SCRATCH (sings): Now IIIIII've, haaad, the time of my li-i-ife! And I've neeeever felt this way- MADGE (laughs): No. > >"Dance? Oh, no. I don't think I can." SCRATCH: Now that's GOT to be a woman speaking! > Face started to >back away. Now that the moment was at hand, he had a >severe case of cold feet. PEARL: Oh, come on! You can't have cold feet for something you never wanted to do in the first place! > >"Come on, Face. It's only a few steps. ALL (sings from Rankin Bass's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"): You put ONE foot in FRONT OF the OTHER! MADGE (same): I wish they were walking out that door! SCRATCH: Ha! Cool! Let's do "Heatmeister" next! GYPSY: No. We've still got- SCRATCH: Aw, no! More fanfic? Damn it, we don't care anymore! End already! >I mean, it's not like you'll >be out there all alone, doing some sort of strip tease or something. >There's ten other guys with you." PEARL: See, it's a gang strip! That's a totally different thing. > >Face looked ill. "I can't go out there and...and...gyrate the way >they expect." GYPSY (Face): They're all Twyla Tharp. I'm Ballenshine to the bone. MADGE (vamp from "Bad to the Bone"): Da-da DA da-da DA! SCRATCH: Bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-Ballenshine! >Suddenly a firm hand fell upon the lieutenant's >shoulder. PEARL (Southern sheriff): Kid? You got a wussin' license on ya? You don't wants ta be wussin' up my county without a wussin' license. > >"Face, as I see it, you have two choices. MADGE (Hannibal): And they both involve me beating the snot out of you. > Either you go >out there and don't move, in which case you'll stand out >like a K-Mart suit on Dynasty, GYPSY: Would the A-Team really be plugging another network's show here? > or you blend in with the rest of us and no one will notice >you at all." PEARL: Ha! Not unless the other nine are doing some really good Eeyore impressions! > >"Some choice. Either way I feel like a fool." SCRATCH (Hannibal): Well at least you look the part. And stop fidgeting with your zipper! It's bad enough your area's in plain sight without you drawing attention to it! > >Hannibal favored his lieutenant with a serious expression. "No one >said being on the A-Team was going to be easy, kid." The look of >disgust the remark earned him put a broad smile on Hannibal's face. MADGE (Hannibal): Ha! I've taken a sad man and depressed him! My work here is done! GYPSY: OK, they walk together out of the shot as another waiter comes to the bar, nodding and grinning as he watches them leave, but it's the mysterious doctor in disguise! PEARL: Musical sting! And, commercial! > >Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, [All groan and growl.] SCRATCH: End. MADGE: End! PEARL: Show us the nude studs already! GYPSY: Oo, it can't be much longer, guys. Just be patient. SCRATCH: Screw patience! END! > Templeton Peck took his >place in the line and moved out onto the polished dance floor that >served as a stage. SCRATCH (Face): Why is my mark a tape outline of a lifeless body sprawled on the floor? > He caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored >wall that formed the back of the stage and cringed. MADGE (Face): Oh, no! You can see my cellulite! > The thunderous >applause and the squeals of delight from the women did little to >alleviate his discomfort. It was going to be a long, LONG night. GYPSY (morosely): Tell us about it. > >In the far corner of the club, near the end of the bar, B.A. Baracus >watched his two friends on the dance floor and giggled gleefully. PEARL (B.A.): Hoo-hoo! What a mischievous rogue am I! Someone call God, I'm too naughty to live! > He >figured this sight was worth at least two year's worth of harassment, >and he fully intended to bring it up to the colonel and the lieutenant >as often as possible. SCRATCH: So you think Lori went on to do wacky satires of such ripe targets as prostitution, or the kiddie porn industry? MADGE: Come to think of it, her fingerprints are all over "The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer". > >The strains of "The Chippendale's Song" MADGE (sings): We're Chip! GYPSY (same): And Dale! MADGE and GYPSY: A most audacious corporation! We are Chip and...! > faded away and the ten >"symbols" of Chippendales jogged easily off the floor. PEARL: Well! Beatty has devoted myriad paragraphs to highway directions, van parking, and octogenarian apparel-donning procedures, but the payoff to the "Face can't dance" subplot? THAT happens off-camera. SCRATCH (whispering): EndendendendEND! > B.A. was >waiting with a smug expression when Hannibal and Face joined him. > [Gypsy, Scratch, and Pearl rise to leave.] SCRATCH: My uncle invented those, you know. He'd say, "You will not get my treasure, Hobbit!", and that would be his- PEARL: A SMUG expression, dummy! Not a SMAUG expression! SCRATCH: Oh, well, sure. Now. PEARL (grumbling): Come on, you. / * \... = 2 =...> 3 <... [ 4 ]... ( 5 )... | 6 |... [OPEN ON: . Pearl is dressed in a collared shirt with big blue and beige horizontal stripes. Her expressions are all big, exaggerated.] PEARL: Hey, kids! It's time to find Bleu's Cues! [Scratch, blue dog ears taped to his horns, pops up next to Pearl.] SCRATCH: "Cue", meaning a prompt, or hint, leading the viewer to draw conclusions. Pearl throws Scratch a quick threatening look. SCRATCH: Dah- I mean, "Arf." "Bark." PEARL: What's that, Bleu? You want to show us something? SCRATCH: If you would arf so bark. PEARL (bringing up pages): Why, look, boys and girls! Excerpts from a crappy fanfic! Can you read what the story says? > He was only too aware of the large amounts of money the club brought >in... he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was so great about >one small club in a place like Culver City. PEARL: Oh, the poor man! Do you think Bleu wants us to help figure out what's so special about this teeny tiny night club? SCRATCH: It's a strip joint. PEARL: Let's read some more and see if we can figure it out! SCRATCH: But I just-! >"Well, seems Paramount Pictures is casting for Chorus Line and >hired away two of my dancers and four of my waiters." PEARL: A night club that has dancers? What kind of a night club would have dancers, boys and girls? A comedy club? A karaoke bar? SCRATCH: Oh, please. The strippers call themselves dancers to divert attention from the morally shaky underpinning of their business! Like when Tom Green calls his show "entertainment"! > >"The rest of you can pick up your...uniforms on Thursday. PEARL: Oo! What kind of uniforms could they be, boys and girls? Maybe a policeman's uniform! SCRATCH: Yeah, more like six inches of silk and some nipple-obscuring Vaseline! >"Okay, follow me and I'll get you measured for your costumes." PEARL: Oh, they're costumes, kids! Wouldn't it be fun wearing a costume to work? I'd go as a big, proud, dancing bear! (Pearl twirls clumsily on her toes.) SCRATCH (sighing): OK, kiddies! Listen up. Professionals wear suits. Grunts wear uniforms. MONKEYS wear costumes! Write it down, put it in your pocket, read it before you head for a job interview! >"Put those on," he gestured toward the clothing, "no underwear..." > >Hannibal... held up the shimmering black pants... They looked more like >satin long johns to him... Face, in the meantime, had discovered the >rest of their so-called costume. He held up three small bands of >white. "What are these?" he asked. > >"Your collar and cuffs. Pearl's eyes have glazed over in lust. PEARL(entranced): Bare chests... tight, shimmering pants... no underwear? SCRATCH: The light may be starting to dawn. Scratch exits, ANGLE ON Pearl as she stands transfixed thinking about the hot hunks of beefcake gyrating just for her. PEARL: Kids? Auntie Pearl needs some... personal time in the thinking chair. Why don't you go, oh, look through that cabinet under the kitchen sink or something. We'll be right back. (Pearl darts off screen. After a few beats of holding on the empty bridge, we hear her off-screen.) Where's my pillow?! --- Logo, Commercials Ceep kirculating the feedback! peasporridgecold@hotmail.com